Painting Pictures of Egypt

I have had a string of conversations over the past couple of days that on the surface were unrelated. In fact, during them I did not even see the connect. In an even broader sense the past few months have all been veiled in similar themes. It was not until late yesterday that I was able to see this single thread that has continued to be woven in the fabric of my life for several months now. This thread had been gently tugging on me. No rash, violent yanks but a firm, consistent tugging in a certain direction. Thankfully, I think I have finally been able to catch up with the tug in this area.

For me these goings on paint a beautiful picture of one of the qualities of God that I often times overlook and discount; His patience. There is a lot of talk on the waiting and longsuffering that we experience in our lives for God to do or reveal that right something, but to really sit and think about all of the times that I keep God waiting on me, wow, I am embarrassed.

Unfortunately for us, we have a disgustingly skewed picture of waiting. I know I think of and often time embody pacing, a flushed face and possibly a few grunts when I have to wait on someone/something. That type of waiting is not in His character. He waits, and when His justice should rightly prevail putting an end to His wait, His mercy steps in. We cannot understand His waiting. It is hard for me to grasp, with all that is going on that three months is worth His wait. It was, and with the same intent and enthusiasm at day one, His three month wait for me in this area has ended. He waits. For you. For me.


Take a minute to read and think about the following Lyrics by Sara Groves, they adequately speak to a place I am right now:

I don’t want to leave here
I don’t want to stay
It feels like pinching to me either way
The places I long for the most
Are the places where I’ve been
They are calling after me like a long lost friend

It’s not about losing faith
It’s not about trust
It’s all about comfortable
When you move so much
The place I was wasn’t perfect
But I had found a way to live
It wasn’t milk or honey
But then neither is this

I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacked
The future seems so hard
And I want to go back
But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I"ve learned
And those roads closed off to me
While my back was turned

The past is so tangible
I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy to discard
I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go
Caught between the promise
And the things I know

If it comes too quick
I may not recognize it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
If it comes too quick
I may not appreciate it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?

Vice

Over the past few months, I have been bombarded over and over again by similar situations, conversations and places where I have had to stop and genuinely reflect on my inward attitude and outward expression of that attitude. The main issue of all the incendiary writhing of the spirit, Pride.

When asked to describe myself about a month ago during a Bible Study, the first thing that came to my head was “frank to a fault”. That is not necessarily good. While most times my observations and following commentary could not be more valid, a little mercy should obviously be shown. I too often make snap judgments and I fear I have missed out on a lot by not taking time to “wait and see” about whom or whatever it was I wrote off in the first 30 seconds of staring them down.

A couple weeks ago, Thanksgiving morning actually, some of the College and Career from Sherwood Baptist Church got together to cook and serve breakfast to the men downtown on the Drey Line. When we had finished and met back at the church to debrief, the man who heads up the weakly Drey Line effort thanked us and made a few remarks. One of the last things he said (and I paraphrase), “We cannot judge these men based on what we think they might do, we don’t know their hearts”. He went on to tell a story about a lady in our church whom 16 years ago, when he began this ministry, asked him why he helps them; specifically, give them money. She said all they are going to is buy beer. Quick on his feet, he responded: What’s your beer? To this day, that woman makes a weekly donation to the Drey Line ministry.

It’s so true though. We all have our vices. Carl Gustav Jung says “Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism.” For me it is pride. I think that regardless of what it is, whether alcohol, tobacco, food, or even another person, if we become so immersed in it that we loose all self control and can no longer be responsible for our person, we have crossed the line. Our vices are our abused, overindulged, misplaced desires. James says “each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire” (1:14). When we succumb to that temptation, when that “whatever it is” takes the place of God in our life, we have gone too far. That is sin.

I have seen God move in so many unlikely places and circumstances. Places and situations that the pompous, closed minded and dead in our faith would cringe to even think about. If all we do is sit around with our fellow seat warmers, crocheting seat markers for “our seat” and commenting on the hair and makeup of “that woman” on TBN, we have lost the vision. We may have never had it to begin with. We cannot be light when we are trapped behind our choir robes 24/7 and more focused on what others think of us than the hearts and souls of men.

I struggle with this on a daily basis. Constantly praying for a breakdown of the ideas and walls I have built over the past two decades, things I thought were necessary to live a holy life. Things that I can know identify as PRIDE. The essential action of Christ’s outpouring through our lives to the needs of others, to the needs of everyone else, is not easy, but it is not supposed to be easy. If we are truly going to be diplomats for Christ we have to be willing to deny anything and everything about us. I have to rip the rags, the façade of Jonathan, off and clothe myself in Him. Clothed in such a way that I am not seen.

Pray for me as I rely on strength from and fight along side Christ in these battles I face against my misplaced desires.

#550. Surviving church as a single.

#550. Surviving church as a single.

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