And What If The Sun Didn't Rise?

It's a corner of the neighborhood that I don't spend much time in.
Some folk endure worst case scenario whether or not it is an accurate reflection of reality. (It usually isn't.)

You know, "what if...?"

Well, I'm going to step out of character momentarily, and ask you to dwell on a what if for a moment. Really go there.

What if the sun didn't rise tomorrow?




I know, I know. But enter in with me. I have a reason.

You keep looking at your watch, your computer, every clock in the house, for they surely must be wrong. But hours tick by and the stars don't move. The moon doesn't seem to move either. Truth be told, the earth has stopped spinning.
Oh, and panic strikes. And crime spikes. And governments crack down to try to control fear so deep it abolishes reason. But their fears run deep too, and they can't help themselves, much less their citizens. Power plants churn out the megawatts at max capacity, to fuel a world which is accustomed to sleeping at night. And people sit huddled in their houses, trying to get cable. But every satellite in the heavens kept spinning when we stopped. So there's no telecom. Every flight in the air, and every ship in the sea wanders till there's no fuel to wander farther. Because there's no GPS either.
After a week, those who have survived fear's urges to self-destruction start counting the days until the sun will rise. --In six months, when we get around to the other side of the sun.
Oh, but we'll never get there. It's already so cold. So cold. The middle of this night is becoming like a wind-swept antarctic. Every green leaf is withering, and with it a planet's life-giving supply of oxygen. We'll run out of air, and then freeze white through, before the sun shines again.

What if the sun didn't rise tomorrow?

Those in eternal noon fare little better. Over there it's oh, so hot. They can breathe this steamy atmosphere, but they are broiling alive. And the steamy part will only last so long...

Stop there.

I take it for granted that the sun will rise tomorrow. And I don't have the foggiest idea of all that would ensue if it didn't. I live in full confidence of the fact.

The sun will rise. That's what matters.

And something else will happen too, something even more certain.
In the morning when you rise, God will be awake, waiting for you to stir.

He always is.

But let me ask you another question.

What if He wasn't there tomorrow?

I'm not even going to go there. That apocalypse would make my above description seem like yogurt for breakfast. Utterly routine.

He's always there. That's what matters.

But wait, really? 
Is that really all that matters?

We rise and run into our day, shoot something that is supposed to be gratitude His way, while taking Him utterly for granted.

Perhaps partly because we've never stopped to consider what would be, if He disappeared.

If some morning He failed to knock on your heart's door when you woke up, would you even miss Him?
Or did you skip Him this morning anyway, so it wouldn't make a difference?

And what did you say would happen if the sun didn't rise...?


He's there. He's promised always to be.
Always reaching His beautiful hand towards a stirring creation.

So, one more question:

Am I?

This I Can Do

Meander is a good word.
I've gone to answer a silent call unmistakable. Over two fences and down a sandy draw.
Wherever my gaze wanders, my feet follow. From rock to creek to giant anthill and back.
These are the best hours of the day, and they belong to God...

But you know, it is most often in the very cradle of these moments, --these hours that slip away into eternity leaving behind them a quiet deep and peace so sweet-- it is in these selfsame that I experience the worst agitations, and the deepest discontent.

Because on the heels of every happiness comes the agony that is the reality of another's pain.
Someone said love and pain go together. How right they were.

Every time I taste the sweeter sweet, I suddenly start up, all taken by this wild desire to distribute.
And that wouldn't be so bad, if every starving soul would actually take it!!


Maybe that's why I pace. From creek to anthill and back.
From joy to yearning and back.

Finally, this:

The very best you can do to bring the beautiful hungry to realize the fullness of joy that is in Christ,
is to be constantly realizing that joy yourself. 

You seek. They'll find. 

The Key

Once again the truth is pressed home hard on my consciousness.


I shuffle. As if through stacks of mental paperwork on the desk of my mind, searching for the keys. Keys apparently hidden somewhere in the fine print ten thousand words long?

No, not there. The key is here.

Here in plain sight. Written in plain english.

"I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life."

The road, the destination, and the journey on that road, to that destination.

Everything.

There you have it.
The key lies in Jesus being everything.

Words With the Father

That moment when the endless empty makes you realize how small you are, how big the world is, (much less the universe.) and how unreasonably kind God is for still having eyes for me.

"Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!

If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.

If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,'

even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!

If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.

Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!

And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!"

(Psalms 139:7-12, 17-18, 23-24. ESV)

Two Secrets

"We fill our lives with what we love most."

I was recently asked how it is a life comes to be full of God.
Well I am no expert. But I do have this confidence.
I have an insatiable appetite for holy joy, adamant hopefulness, and unshakable confidence. And I know where these come from.
So, this is my defense.

- - -

Failure is no stranger to me. And there is altogether too much in my soul that competes for God's place. 

But this I can say: with ever passing day I want less of the world, and more of Christ. 

And this transformation is not hard work, it is a simple gift, which He bestows to all who long to love Him first. 

I will tell you two secrets though-- Two secrets that I am learning form the basis of every success I have ever attained. And two things that certainly involve consistent and tenacious effort. 

1. Love does the footwork. God does the rest. I make the room.

The heart will follow what it loves. Love God, and following Him is no struggle. Love the world, and you will forever have to fight to give God anything.
Good news: We were wired to love God. There's no complicated formula.
Bad news: We're prone to re-wiring. And the world is only too eager to help. Pleasure, convenience, compromise, popularity, lust, excitement, even friends?… These glitter like gold because they parade as substitutes for God. And we too often fall for it.

In order to learn to love God, God must live in the heart. We come to love best what we hold closest. (No, it's true. We're duped into holding close what is actually entirely unlovely, and  so come to love our worst enemy best of all.) The reciprocal is also true.

So, the thing to remember is that I only have one heart to give away. I can't sprinkle God on top of pleasure. Guilty pleasure gets a foothold by kicking God out. I give God a foothold by kicking guilty pleasure out. (And that's work.)

2. My happiness is proportional to the abandon with which I relinquish my right to myself.

This is undiluted joy. It matters very little how much effort it requires. 

So I repeatedly relinquish my "right" to myself.
That is, my right to direct my own steps, seek my own pleasure, pursue my own glory, fulfill my own dreams...
 

Because I've proven to myself (by repeated failure) that choosing pleasure over principle never, never, never, never leads to happiness in the end. 

And I'm thoroughly tired of being disappointed. 

Now when faced with a choice, I am gently reminded that I have given myself to the Almighty, and that whether or not I understand Him, I can draw contentment from allegiance. 

Then, I no longer sit there forever begging for power. (I used to.) I get up and go. Because He's already given us enough power to actuate obedience. And He never gives again power we already possess. 

Thus He adds another block to the empire He's building in the souls of His servants, and I'm perfectly satisfied.

So satisfied, that I become daily more likely to chose Him over any substitute.

And as long as I keep allowing Him to crowd out of my life everything unlike Himself, I get happier. 

The moment I refuse Him, He is crowded off His rightful throne, and I'm at the mercy of a selfish rottenness that has power only because I give it such.

Which power all the host of heroes on white horses defies.

For what it's worth... I'm sticking with them.