Remember

I admit it.

I’ve forgotten. I’ve lost my focus. I’ve been spending the bulk of my time worrying about having my spiritual ducks in a row (an attainment I should know by now will never be reached via my own harried attempts), rather than being present in the world where God has placed me, filled with Spirit and life, affecting the others who are made in the same image I’m made in but haven’t yet chosen to drink deeply from the fountain in which I swim.

Forgive me, Father. Forgive me, prodigals.

It happens so quickly, so effortlessly, so subtly…

I am embarrassingly selfish at times. When I love “God” without loving my neighbor, the “God” I end up loving is no god at all – just a little Paper Mache reconstruction I erect on a plastic throne to make myself feel spiritually acceptable.

Oh God, I’ve looked down my nose at the people I’m surrounded by in this busy culture you’ve made me incarnate within; I’ve seen them en masse rather than one by one, by name, by life. I’ve judged them for not embracing the truth I’m holding behind my back and behind the walls of my closed lips, anchored to the rock of the sin of self-infatuation buried in my heart. I’ve written the struggling off as sub-par and the seeking off as too slow, too undecided to be worthy of You.

I’ve gotten in Your way again.

I’m sorry.

We’re so cozy, us “Christians;” so oddly happy with our dysfunctional view of the world, so easily pacified with our own spiritual experiences, so weirdly willing to let Satan’s be the loudest voice our neighbors and friends and coworkers hear.

We think the universe revolves around us. We think we know You because we come to Your house for dinner on Sundays. Doesn’t it strike us as strange that Your table is so large and yet so empty? Aren’t we bothered by the unoccupied chairs around us? More, aren’t we concerned that You seem a little halfhearted about serving us, week after week, month after month, until we can quote the menu by heart? It’s not that You don’t love us, perfectly, passionately… but that You can’t help but reveal, if we look at the features of Your face with more than just a passing glance, a little of Your disappointment that it’s just us; again.

And I am the chief of sinners.

I forget.

I lose track.

I forget.

I want You to wash me. I want You to forgive me. I want you to give me another chance to be something more than a “Christian.” I want to follow You; and I have this feeling that You’re not walking where I like to walk. I want to stop seeing this world as just a place I’m passing through as quickly as I can on my way to the relief of heaven (although God, You know I’m looking forward to it)… I want to see it as my place of being. I want to re-embrace my responsibility to influence, to be salt and light that flavors and brightens the dark places here. I want to say “no” to the devil and his relentless push to desensitize me to the questions and cries of the searching.

I want to remember.

I want to remember that Jesus, You didn’t come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. I want to remember how thoroughly unimpressed You are with religious people – in fact, You’re not just unimpressed; You’re disgusted. And I’ve been one lately.

But I’m starting over. For the millionth time; but I’m doing it. I’m going to be here, in this world, and I’m going to push down those selfish demands that seek to consume me. I’m going back into the world You placed me in to do what You came to do. To seek; to save.

Because when You come back, I’m pretty sure You’re not going to ask me how many verses I memorized or how many sermons I heard or how “Christian” I was able to become; but how many people I brought to dinner with me.

Oh, You want me to be holy – but the holier I try to become through religious self-programming, the less holy I end up being. Holiness is invisible until it has reached out for the unholy. We never saw You, God, until You came as Jesus. Then, holiness showed up in the midst of the darkness; and all of the sudden, You, a holy God, were visible – we could see You and touch You. My holiness is invisible – and useless – until I walk slowly through the culture and let unholy people touch me… and touch them back.

So I’m going to remember. And I’m going to be here. I’m going to matter to the people who matter to You.

I’m going to remember.

Comments

[Brian Johnson]

Hello Mark,

thought you might be interested to know I created a website on HOLINESS recently, with many audio resources on the Holiness of God and other items on holiness. The URL is
http://www.holiness.org.uk

[Dan Ponjican]

This moved me Mark... I'm feeling the same these days. I referenced this post in my blog. I hope you don't mind. It flowed well with what I was saying this week.

Thanks.

[Jennifer]

Thanks for being transparent. I think it's so important for us to admit when we haven't just been "up to par." I posted something similar on my blog about something I'd been hiding away for a long time and just got real about.

Somehow when we remove ourselves from the expectation of perfection, then we can truly be real and raw and let God shape us - and it's okay to be imperfect.

Thanks for sharing your heart.

Jenny Miller
Time2TalkAboutIt.com