Why prayer? Why does God work through the prayers of His people? Why doesn't He just do what He desires to do?
Because He wants to accomplish it in and through and with US!
Stop and think about this for a minute...If God just did all He means to do in this earth, without having His people pray and believe for it, would He get the credit? Would the praise and glory He deserves ever be given to Him?
Clarification: God is not a man. As human beings, we are meant to live not for the glory of ourselves, but of God. We were created for His praise and glory (see Isaiah 43:7, 21). God, however, is God. He is the central theme of the universe and everything within it. It all revolves around Him. When you were little, did you ever have a parent, teacher, or some other adult in your life have to remind you that "The world (or the universe) does not revolve around you"? Guess what? It revolves around God! It is all about Him.
So, back to what I was saying--think about it. If God did everything without us...well, it would be completely contrary to the way He works. But why? Because He gets glory when His people know it is Him doing it. When it is God who leads someone to pray according to what He intends to do, He gets glory. He gets glory because that person then has to trust Him to accomplish what He has promised. He gets glory because then even when everything and everyone around that person seems to say it's not going to happen, that person is driven to his knees to ask God, not whether or not He is really going to do it, but instead for the faith to trust Him more, to believe He is who He says He is and that He will do what He has said He will do.
God has an agenda. He has a plan and a vision for this world and for all of us in it. Hearts will not be changed unless they behold the Living God, and our God's design is that He works in and through His people--His Body.
He wants us to be part of it.
Did you hear that? Okay, you're reading, but did that sentence sink into your soul? This is the God of the universe, the Almighty King of Kings, the One who is bigger and greater and more magnificent than we can even comprehend. And He desires to allow us to be a part of what He is doing in this earth. Are we in any way worthy of such an honor? Not in the slightest. But He still not only allows it, but desires it.
We were created to know our Creator, to live in a relationship that goes beyond words' ability to describe in its depth and intimacy. And we were created to be indwelt by Him, by His very Spirit, to be so thoroughly one with Him that there is not a part of our lives that can be separated from Him and who we are in Him. In Him we are--we exist--to live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28). In and through us, He is to lvie and move and have His way. When we give our lives to Him who gave His life for us, and allow Him to overtake our very beings (we were made for this!), it sets the stage for the greatest mystery this world has ever known to unfold before our very eyes.
And that is why God works through prayer. It's not that He doesn't already know what He has promised. It's not that we can tell Him what to do. Instead, it's so that we may know what His will is (which comes by getting to know Him in the first place), and may see Him do it. It is so that we may behold the marvelous way in which our God chooses to work, that we may be part of the grand adventure of seeing His Kingdom come to this earth as it is in Heaven.
May God Most High receive the glory due His Name in and through His people, whom He has purchased with His own blood! And may we yeild ourselves to be so consumed with His heart and so pursuant of His glory that we willingly offer our lives before the One who is worthy, that all the world may behold that our God is Lord of all!
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Gospel
So, there's this one thought that's been running through my head quite often over the last week or so: "You can't have too much of the Gospel in your day." It's funny, but that same thought (and the fact I have been thinking it) has also reminded me of how many times growing up I heard people say how important it is to always remember the Cross in our daily life, to think on it, to keep it central in our focus. And, I didn't get it. For many years, thinking about the Cross and Jesus' sacrifice was a painful and sorrowful thing--not that it's not still. But as God has opened my eyes and made real to me in the past several years what His death truly meant and what it purchased and made possible, the Cross has likewise taken on a new relevance to me.
Jesus did not die for nothing; He gave His life to destroy the barrier of sin that stood between man and God--for a holy God cannot tolerate the presence of sin; light and darkness cannot coinhabit any place. What we as Christians often emphasize here is the fact He purchased forgiveness, which is a valid point, for without forgiveness we would still be separated from God. But how often do we stop there? How often do we focus so much on the fact we are forgiven, that we fail to look beyond that point and realize that Jesus did not just make a way for us to be able to come to Him--He also made a way for Himself to come to us, to dwell inside us. The Cross purchased more than forgiveness: it purchased eternal life...and that life starts now. We do not have to wait till we're dead to see sin defeated and erased from our lives: sanctification starts now. Will we be perfect this side of heaven? No. But is that a reason to settle for remaining as we are, when our lives could be infinitely better? Eternal life is the Life of the One who is eternal. For us to have eternal life, we must have Christ, for there is no life apart from Him.
All that to say, there is now a short film produced by some very dear friends of mine, which enunciates the message of the Gospel in a way that is hard to describe. (You'll just have to watch it for yourself!) Does this video portray every last detail, every inch and intricate truth of the Gospel? No--that discovery is the adventure of a lifetime and must be unlocked step by step by the Holy Spirit. However, this video is a powerful, straightforward enunciation of the Gospel, and in a fuller measure than we often encounter preached in the modern American church. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has had His hand on this from the very beginning and even before, leading the speaker (Eric Ludy), the composer (Steve Rosen), and the director (Josh Kinabrew)--all of whom I know personally and can vouch for both their sincerity and surrender to the Lord--every step of the way. It has been saturated in prayer from beginning to end (and beyond), forged in the furnace of surrender, and inspired in the secret place of communion with the Most High.
He has done, is doing, and will continue to do great and mighty things through this film. And so, without further ado, I urge you to take eleven minutes of your time and sit down to watch it! Just click on the link below. =)
The Gospel
For the King and His glory,
Kala
Jesus did not die for nothing; He gave His life to destroy the barrier of sin that stood between man and God--for a holy God cannot tolerate the presence of sin; light and darkness cannot coinhabit any place. What we as Christians often emphasize here is the fact He purchased forgiveness, which is a valid point, for without forgiveness we would still be separated from God. But how often do we stop there? How often do we focus so much on the fact we are forgiven, that we fail to look beyond that point and realize that Jesus did not just make a way for us to be able to come to Him--He also made a way for Himself to come to us, to dwell inside us. The Cross purchased more than forgiveness: it purchased eternal life...and that life starts now. We do not have to wait till we're dead to see sin defeated and erased from our lives: sanctification starts now. Will we be perfect this side of heaven? No. But is that a reason to settle for remaining as we are, when our lives could be infinitely better? Eternal life is the Life of the One who is eternal. For us to have eternal life, we must have Christ, for there is no life apart from Him.
All that to say, there is now a short film produced by some very dear friends of mine, which enunciates the message of the Gospel in a way that is hard to describe. (You'll just have to watch it for yourself!) Does this video portray every last detail, every inch and intricate truth of the Gospel? No--that discovery is the adventure of a lifetime and must be unlocked step by step by the Holy Spirit. However, this video is a powerful, straightforward enunciation of the Gospel, and in a fuller measure than we often encounter preached in the modern American church. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has had His hand on this from the very beginning and even before, leading the speaker (Eric Ludy), the composer (Steve Rosen), and the director (Josh Kinabrew)--all of whom I know personally and can vouch for both their sincerity and surrender to the Lord--every step of the way. It has been saturated in prayer from beginning to end (and beyond), forged in the furnace of surrender, and inspired in the secret place of communion with the Most High.
He has done, is doing, and will continue to do great and mighty things through this film. And so, without further ado, I urge you to take eleven minutes of your time and sit down to watch it! Just click on the link below. =)
The Gospel
For the King and His glory,
Kala
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Pet Rocks and the Call to Let Go
Pebbles
Pebble number one is labeled "My Pride."
It's the one that likes to pretend that it's a priceless gem,
But really it's nothing more than a pebble,
Covered in sand.
And pebble number two is all I planned to do.
I worked hard on that one,
Weighing all the pros and cons, the ends and the means.
Yet still it seems, it's just a pebble.
But my King said,
"Give me your pebbles. Empty your hands.
Then watch Me fill them with My priceless gems.
Let go of your pebbles and behold,
In Me are riches untold.
If you will let go of all that you have known,
I will fill you with more than you can hold.
So let go."
Pebble number three is what I like to do, the things I enjoy.
And pebble number four can talk.
It's always asking, "What will everyone think?"
All these pebbles and more, I've clutched in my hands
For so long.
But my King said,
"Give me your pebbles. Empty your hands.
Then watch Me fill them with My priceless gems.
Let go of your pebbles and behold,
In Me are riches untold.
If you will let go of all that you have known,
I will fill you with more than you can hold.
So let go."
All this time I've held these pebbles, and treated them as gold.
I couldn't understand why He would ask me to let go.
But then one day I finally beheld the One Who is more precious still.
And in His light, at last I could see
That my treasures were but pebbles, and that He was worth far more.
He asked me to let go, and at last I could obey.
I cast all my pebbles at His feet, and there they shall remain.
It's a mystery, this Grace, that takes our worthless pebbles
And instead gives us priceless jewels.
For my King said,
"Give me your pebbles. Empty your hands.
Then watch Me fill them with My priceless gems.
Let go of your pebbles and behold,
In Me are riches untold.
If you will let go of all that you have known,
I will fill you with more than you can hold.
So let go."
[By the way, I can't take credit for the pebbles-and-jewels concept--I got it from someone else, and I'm not sure now exactly where it traces back to.]
This song is a sort of allegory of something very real I've experienced somewhat gradually in the past year or so, but at the same time I can look back and pinpoint one day in particular where this exchange took place. See, for most of my life I've had the head-knowledge that Jesus is worth more than all else, and that He is worthy of all we have to give--all we are--and more. But sometimes it sort of seems like--as with other areas of head-knowledge--to an extent, this incredible truth was kept back in some dusty, far corner of my brain and only consulted (to be brutally honest) in order to judge another's actions. (In case you're wondering, yes, my pride [a.k.a. "pebble #1"] is now smarting quite a bit after that remark.) And at the same time, for so many years, I thought I had this concept down, and believed I had truly surrendered myself completely unto God.
That is, until the day God asked me for everything.
The memory is vivid for me, and yet it is extremely hard to put into words. It could be partially because my memory tends to work more in snapshots and scenes than videos, if that makes any sense. But another part of why it is so hard to articulate is simply that, frankly, encounters with the Creator of the universe tend to just be extremely hard to put into mere words. Nonetheless, I will try to relay to you as best I can what took place that summer morning in Colorado.
It was Wednesday, June 16, 2010--a day that has special significance to anyone who was at Ellerslie during that day and the ones that followed soon after it.
But before I share about that day in particular, let me backtrack to something I just came across in my journal when I was looking for details to help me try to express what happened on the 16th. I had forgotten about this, which is part of why it's so handy to keep a journal sometimes (though I'm not always the best at it). On Tuesday, June 15th, I recorded in my journal a prayer asking God to change something that had once been true of my life. In a way, I asked that my life would no longer be marked by milestones--that I would no longer look back upon single nights and specific experiences where I had seen God anew, but instead that my life would be spent looking forward. Not that I wanted to forget those special times, but as I wrote that day, "God, don't let them be punctuation marks in my life anymore. Let it be an everyday experience to see You in a new light, to draw dramatically closer to Your heart, to have a new revelation of all that You are and all that You have purposed. It will never grow old. Let me not live off old experiences, but be ever-presently listening for Your voice and seeking and finding You; at the same time, let me always remember all You have done, not only to bolster my faith, but to be ever thankful for all You have done, are doing, and will do in me and in this world." In wrapping up the same journal entry, I asked expectantly that God would press us all deeper into His heart, saying, "Be our hearts' desire from this day forth, God, and help us never waver, never hesitate, to pursue Your heart and will with everything that is within us." And it's interesting to look back on that now, because it was the very next day that God would test me on how willing I was to allow Him to make such things a reality in my life.
Now, for June 16, 2010...
Since it was a Wednesday, by 5:30 a.m. I was up and waiting on the semicircular slab of concrete, ready for one of Ellerslie's thrice-weekly morning prayer times to start up. (These prayer sessions were optional, but God had been pretty clear with me that He wanted me to be there.) I don't remember specifically what took place that particular morning, other than a general impression in which I felt a predominant burden and pressure in my soul. I remember, when Eric dismissed us, having the distinct and unavoidable knowledge that I needed to find somewhere to be alone with God. It was time for a heart-to-heart unlike any I had ever experienced before.
That morning, as I found a secluded spot on campus where I felt hidden away from all eyes but God's, it was as if my King were standing right before me, His gaze penetrating but at the same time filled with limitless compassion. It was time. A decision I thought had been made long ago was laid before me afresh, and I was aware as if for the first time of its full weight.
He was asking me to surrender.
Here is why I had thought this issue had been settled long before: for the previous four or five years of my life up to that point, God had set before me specific scenarios on various occasions and asked me to choose which I would follow--my desire, or His. True, sometimes I had resisted, but it always came to the point where I could resist no longer, and I would submit.
That morning, as the King stood before me and asked me to lay down everything at His feet--to truly surrender every area of my life to Him--there was a desperate battle being waged within my soul. At the time, it was harder to distinguish exactly what was going on, but in hindsight it is much easier to identify the opposing forces. Part of me, that part in which the Spirit of God was working, was desperately pleading for God to take me deeper and to show me what it truly means to let go of all else and cling to Him only. And yet, something was struggling against this desire, fighting against it with such force that to a large extent I felt incapable of doing what my King was asking. I felt as though there were a paper-thin barrier between me and God, between me and what God wanted to do in me--and yet, even though the barrier was so thin, I lacked the strength and the ability to break through. So, I went to my knees and pleaded earnestly for my God to come through on my behalf and to destroy this barrier.
That day was a day of anguish for me, for as the morning went on I could not shake the urgency within my soul. Something had to be made right within me, this barrier of parchment had to be removed, and though I lacked the power, I knew my God was strong enough. So I continued to plead for Him to pull me through, and in the process, the burden became not so much a desperate need for myself, but a desperate need to have the strength to extend to my brothers and sisters--to be made right so that I would be in a position to be able to help pull others through. (If you are reading this now and were one of the ones present at Ellerslie during the days that followed, you know exactly what God was leading up to then.)
At several times throughout that day, I found myself doing something I rarely, if ever, did. I asked people to pray for me. I explained to them the feeling of this parchment-thin barrier, though at first I didn't know what that barrier was. Then, someone asked me to be more specific, asked if I could identify what it was standing in the way. And suddenly, my vision cleared. The barrier had begun to crack earlier in the day, after the first time I had asked a few people to pray for me, and it was as if light streamed in through the cracks, giving me hope. And in that instant, I knew what the barrier was: my pride. I hadn't realized it at the time, but all along, it had been my selfish pride vying for the throne of my life--though it knew just as well as I did that that throne rightfully belongs to Another. And throughout that day, as I pleaded with God and recognized my own inability to break through, as I humbled myself by admitting to my brothers and sisters that I was not as I should be and needed them to join with me in prayer--slowly but surely, my pride was being attacked again and again, worn down, and cracked.
June 16, 2010 was a day of reckoning for my soul. It was a day of surrender deeper than any I had experienced before. That afternoon, I stood nearly waist-deep in the waters of the Lake at Ellerslie, and stood before my entire class, and, in a spiritual sense, before all the powers of both Heaven and Hell, and declared with a perspective and a confidence I had not known before that my Self and my Pride were truly dead and buried with Christ, that my life was no longer my own, and that it was no longer I who live, but Christ in me. I don't remember my exact phrasing, but that's the gist of it. And as I stood in that water, I knew the barrier was about to fall.
Sure enough, as I came up out of that water, it was gone--vanished.
Now, I'm not saying I have never struggled with my pride since that day. Strangely enough, the pesky thing tends to forget it's dead, crucified with Christ. No, the Christian life is a daily death (1 Corinthians 15:31). It is a daily reckoning with the truth and reminding ourselves Whose we are and Who it is that rules our lives--that our lives are not our own, but have been bought with a price (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). I'm not perfect. But day by day, God is transforming me, sanctifying me, molding me more into His likeness. And let me assure you, I have never once regretted the decision I made afresh that day. Just as the song says, in exchange for the worthless pebbles I had been clinging to for so long, my King has filled me to overflowing with the priceless treasures that stem directly from knowing Him: unfailing love, true compassion, conquering peace, unending joy...the list goes on and on.
So, that is my exceptionally long-winded explanation on the story behind the song... =) I hope it challenges you to look down at your own hands and see if there is anything you are holding onto even as your King asks you to let go. He does not ask out of greed or selfishness, for why would He want your worthless pebbles when He has riches in abundance and to spare? No, He asks for that which is rightfully His in the first place, for those who have called themselves by His Name to reckon it as so and to truly surrender themselves to His call, to follow Him with reckless abandon.
This is the choice that is left to us, to
But before I share about that day in particular, let me backtrack to something I just came across in my journal when I was looking for details to help me try to express what happened on the 16th. I had forgotten about this, which is part of why it's so handy to keep a journal sometimes (though I'm not always the best at it). On Tuesday, June 15th, I recorded in my journal a prayer asking God to change something that had once been true of my life. In a way, I asked that my life would no longer be marked by milestones--that I would no longer look back upon single nights and specific experiences where I had seen God anew, but instead that my life would be spent looking forward. Not that I wanted to forget those special times, but as I wrote that day, "God, don't let them be punctuation marks in my life anymore. Let it be an everyday experience to see You in a new light, to draw dramatically closer to Your heart, to have a new revelation of all that You are and all that You have purposed. It will never grow old. Let me not live off old experiences, but be ever-presently listening for Your voice and seeking and finding You; at the same time, let me always remember all You have done, not only to bolster my faith, but to be ever thankful for all You have done, are doing, and will do in me and in this world." In wrapping up the same journal entry, I asked expectantly that God would press us all deeper into His heart, saying, "Be our hearts' desire from this day forth, God, and help us never waver, never hesitate, to pursue Your heart and will with everything that is within us." And it's interesting to look back on that now, because it was the very next day that God would test me on how willing I was to allow Him to make such things a reality in my life.
Now, for June 16, 2010...
Since it was a Wednesday, by 5:30 a.m. I was up and waiting on the semicircular slab of concrete, ready for one of Ellerslie's thrice-weekly morning prayer times to start up. (These prayer sessions were optional, but God had been pretty clear with me that He wanted me to be there.) I don't remember specifically what took place that particular morning, other than a general impression in which I felt a predominant burden and pressure in my soul. I remember, when Eric dismissed us, having the distinct and unavoidable knowledge that I needed to find somewhere to be alone with God. It was time for a heart-to-heart unlike any I had ever experienced before.
That morning, as I found a secluded spot on campus where I felt hidden away from all eyes but God's, it was as if my King were standing right before me, His gaze penetrating but at the same time filled with limitless compassion. It was time. A decision I thought had been made long ago was laid before me afresh, and I was aware as if for the first time of its full weight.
He was asking me to surrender.
Here is why I had thought this issue had been settled long before: for the previous four or five years of my life up to that point, God had set before me specific scenarios on various occasions and asked me to choose which I would follow--my desire, or His. True, sometimes I had resisted, but it always came to the point where I could resist no longer, and I would submit.
That morning, as the King stood before me and asked me to lay down everything at His feet--to truly surrender every area of my life to Him--there was a desperate battle being waged within my soul. At the time, it was harder to distinguish exactly what was going on, but in hindsight it is much easier to identify the opposing forces. Part of me, that part in which the Spirit of God was working, was desperately pleading for God to take me deeper and to show me what it truly means to let go of all else and cling to Him only. And yet, something was struggling against this desire, fighting against it with such force that to a large extent I felt incapable of doing what my King was asking. I felt as though there were a paper-thin barrier between me and God, between me and what God wanted to do in me--and yet, even though the barrier was so thin, I lacked the strength and the ability to break through. So, I went to my knees and pleaded earnestly for my God to come through on my behalf and to destroy this barrier.
That day was a day of anguish for me, for as the morning went on I could not shake the urgency within my soul. Something had to be made right within me, this barrier of parchment had to be removed, and though I lacked the power, I knew my God was strong enough. So I continued to plead for Him to pull me through, and in the process, the burden became not so much a desperate need for myself, but a desperate need to have the strength to extend to my brothers and sisters--to be made right so that I would be in a position to be able to help pull others through. (If you are reading this now and were one of the ones present at Ellerslie during the days that followed, you know exactly what God was leading up to then.)
At several times throughout that day, I found myself doing something I rarely, if ever, did. I asked people to pray for me. I explained to them the feeling of this parchment-thin barrier, though at first I didn't know what that barrier was. Then, someone asked me to be more specific, asked if I could identify what it was standing in the way. And suddenly, my vision cleared. The barrier had begun to crack earlier in the day, after the first time I had asked a few people to pray for me, and it was as if light streamed in through the cracks, giving me hope. And in that instant, I knew what the barrier was: my pride. I hadn't realized it at the time, but all along, it had been my selfish pride vying for the throne of my life--though it knew just as well as I did that that throne rightfully belongs to Another. And throughout that day, as I pleaded with God and recognized my own inability to break through, as I humbled myself by admitting to my brothers and sisters that I was not as I should be and needed them to join with me in prayer--slowly but surely, my pride was being attacked again and again, worn down, and cracked.
June 16, 2010 was a day of reckoning for my soul. It was a day of surrender deeper than any I had experienced before. That afternoon, I stood nearly waist-deep in the waters of the Lake at Ellerslie, and stood before my entire class, and, in a spiritual sense, before all the powers of both Heaven and Hell, and declared with a perspective and a confidence I had not known before that my Self and my Pride were truly dead and buried with Christ, that my life was no longer my own, and that it was no longer I who live, but Christ in me. I don't remember my exact phrasing, but that's the gist of it. And as I stood in that water, I knew the barrier was about to fall.
Sure enough, as I came up out of that water, it was gone--vanished.
Now, I'm not saying I have never struggled with my pride since that day. Strangely enough, the pesky thing tends to forget it's dead, crucified with Christ. No, the Christian life is a daily death (1 Corinthians 15:31). It is a daily reckoning with the truth and reminding ourselves Whose we are and Who it is that rules our lives--that our lives are not our own, but have been bought with a price (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). I'm not perfect. But day by day, God is transforming me, sanctifying me, molding me more into His likeness. And let me assure you, I have never once regretted the decision I made afresh that day. Just as the song says, in exchange for the worthless pebbles I had been clinging to for so long, my King has filled me to overflowing with the priceless treasures that stem directly from knowing Him: unfailing love, true compassion, conquering peace, unending joy...the list goes on and on.
So, that is my exceptionally long-winded explanation on the story behind the song... =) I hope it challenges you to look down at your own hands and see if there is anything you are holding onto even as your King asks you to let go. He does not ask out of greed or selfishness, for why would He want your worthless pebbles when He has riches in abundance and to spare? No, He asks for that which is rightfully His in the first place, for those who have called themselves by His Name to reckon it as so and to truly surrender themselves to His call, to follow Him with reckless abandon.
This is the choice that is left to us, to
"Choose ye this day whom ye shall serve..."
-Joshua 24:15
Sunday, April 3, 2011
The Marriage We Were Made For
"Mawwaige. Mawwaige is what bwings us togedder today..."
Okay, no, this really has nothing to do with The Princess Bride. But today a visiting pastor at my church gave a message about marriage, and it got me thinking about something I'll let you in on in just a minute. The pastor's sermon was geared toward the kind of marriage you'd typically think of right off the bat when hearing the word: the kind involving rings and a formal ceremony, leading to a family, etc. But he made a comment early on in his preaching that sent my mind down a completely different track. Don't get me wrong, I still paid attention to the rest of the sermon, but here's what I was thinking about in the back of my mind and afterward. The comment I'm referring to was that, for the vast majority, marriage is inevitable. The pastor did make mention that there are some called to lifelong singleness (celibacy), but the main thrust of his message was, as I've already said, about marriage. So here's the "rabbit trail" of sorts my mind went off on:
I'm not married, but I'm married. Confusing enough? Okay, let me explain... No, I have no wedding ring; I'm not married in that sense. But at the same time, in a spiritual sense, I am married. I am in a covenant relationship with Jesus Christ, and am part of the Bride of Christ--His Church (see Ephesians). Even as I wrote that sentence, I was struck by the fact that my relationship with Jesus is more than just a marriage, but for now I'll stick to the topic I started with.
There's a reason the Bible refers to the Church as the Bride of Christ, and to Christ as our Bridegroom. Marriage itself is meant to be a picture of Jesus' relationship with His Church. I could go on for pages to try to explain that, and I'll likely get more in-depth with it in future posts, but as for short, sweet, and to the point--this is the marriage we are all called to, and the most important marriage of all. This is the relationship that affects all others. And this is the only relationship which can truly fulfill us and make our lives truly count.
Okay, no, this really has nothing to do with The Princess Bride. But today a visiting pastor at my church gave a message about marriage, and it got me thinking about something I'll let you in on in just a minute. The pastor's sermon was geared toward the kind of marriage you'd typically think of right off the bat when hearing the word: the kind involving rings and a formal ceremony, leading to a family, etc. But he made a comment early on in his preaching that sent my mind down a completely different track. Don't get me wrong, I still paid attention to the rest of the sermon, but here's what I was thinking about in the back of my mind and afterward. The comment I'm referring to was that, for the vast majority, marriage is inevitable. The pastor did make mention that there are some called to lifelong singleness (celibacy), but the main thrust of his message was, as I've already said, about marriage. So here's the "rabbit trail" of sorts my mind went off on:
I'm not married, but I'm married. Confusing enough? Okay, let me explain... No, I have no wedding ring; I'm not married in that sense. But at the same time, in a spiritual sense, I am married. I am in a covenant relationship with Jesus Christ, and am part of the Bride of Christ--His Church (see Ephesians). Even as I wrote that sentence, I was struck by the fact that my relationship with Jesus is more than just a marriage, but for now I'll stick to the topic I started with.
There's a reason the Bible refers to the Church as the Bride of Christ, and to Christ as our Bridegroom. Marriage itself is meant to be a picture of Jesus' relationship with His Church. I could go on for pages to try to explain that, and I'll likely get more in-depth with it in future posts, but as for short, sweet, and to the point--this is the marriage we are all called to, and the most important marriage of all. This is the relationship that affects all others. And this is the only relationship which can truly fulfill us and make our lives truly count.
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