The church I belong to – Grace Community Church – has taken this season of Lent to look at some of the traditions we as believers follow. Why do we follow them? What do they particularly mean? How do they apply?
Each week we focus on a specific practice. We will address six in all:
In conjunction with the sermon series, there have been classes which focus deeper on each of these aspects, taught by members of the body who have specific ties, gifts, and/or knowledge in these arenas.
Furthermore, our Communications team had the wonderful idea to provide a devotional
to accompany theses weeks. They asked a few people to contribute by writing one or a few for the series overall.
I am legitimately humbled to be one of those asked. The opportunity forced me (in the best way) to sit – be still- LISTEN to what God wanted to say. It gave me food to nourish a waning section of myself that I neglect fervently – for a reason I can never pinpoint. But I did – sit. I was able to write. And if you are or know of a writer – particularly in the field of faith – perhaps you have heard the true statement that regardless of whose name is credited to paragraphs…these words come from another source entirely.
At least that’s the only way I know how to describe it.
It may sound trite to you, or fake, or hot air (or fill in your own adjective) – but I 100% know, for a fact, that in the best of times, I have no idea what I’m saying. If I write, it’s more often than not something that I really needed to hear – not someone else. I need a dose of that reality, or reminder of truth, or kick in the pants.
I bring all of this up, because when I read the Stewardship
post for March 30th, I read each word as if a voice was screaming: “This is for YOU! Get it through your head and start paying attention to how things really are and how they should be.” It was only at the end of this day’s writing that I was reminded…my name was at the bottom. I typed those words. That’s when it was confirmed that I don’t know what I say over half the time – except that He knows what I need to hear for myself. And maybe – just maybe – He wants me to share it with others. Maybe
something in my life and journey can be relatable to someone else.
He provides the syllable and syntax. He quite literally gave my hands – function, my brain – analysis, my lungs – breath. How can I claim production to anything at all? I cannot function without the given tools to do so. Trust me – I’ve seen myself in times of plenty and in times of want. I know the different levels of “being” – and I know the difference from when I try to go at it alone, and when He is the leader of each inch I crawl and each wobbly step I attempt.
There is nothing more I can add to what I am working through, pondering, unpacking, wrestling with or questioning. This is all it comes down to – all I can rest upon – and where it all stops mattering:
“The steps of a man are established by the LORD, and He delights in his way. When he falls he will not be hurled headlong, because the LORD is the One who holds his hand” (Psalm 37:23-24, NASB).
There is, however, more unveiling of that verse – and astoundingly beautiful discovery of just what those words are saying. I’ll leave that for another time. Because for now – I just need to rest in the FACT that I will not be lost to my inability to control (“hurled headlong”). I will not be devastated beyond repair. Because He is the One who holds/grasps/clings to my hand.