Wednesday, March 12, 2014

I'm going to dibble and dabble and interfere this morning.

I'm going to suggest a new pattern for your mornings: something profoundly more important than eggs and bacon, toast and jelly.

I'm going to suggest a new method for your morning madness.

This morning I'm going to suggest a ritual that won't carve off pounds, but instead actually will add something -- a few dozen, er, moments to your calendar.

In other words, you will live longer -- or even if you don't live longer, at the worst you will live better.

This morning, the fog burned off the damp ground like a cloth wipes wetness from countertops -- dabbing hither and yon. As the sun slowly climbed the stairway to heaven, I watched it explore the height of God's roller-coaster of warm, cold, warm, cold, and finally delightfully spring-like warm.

The writer filled in blanks of love and adoration ..."How lovely is Your tabernacle, O Lord of hosts! My soul longs, yes, even faints for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God."  Psalm 84: 1-2

Longs.
Faints.
Cries out.
Desires.
Wants.

He loves us so much that despite his power, he caresses us. His grip, the finger-strength of which carved canyons as deep as the Grand one out of solid mountains, is as gentle as an infant's caress, a Downey supernatural softener, a puff of beauty, a wisp of wow.

God waits for us, gathering himself for us, watching for us. My goodness, or rather, HIS goodness garners a moment of His time, and the majesty of all majesties calls the miraculous into being -- every single darn morning. He waits for us, and eventually we cry out for him.

This particular morning, as I walked from parsonage to office, those 45 steps from "home" to heavenly as it were, I thought about how I've begun to I lift his name routinely. I thought about how I've learned to love to sing his praises. I thought how I have become used to receiving his blessings. I thought about how my morning time with him has become what I do, or rather, who I am.

And by the time I arrived, I was ready to start something new, anything new, maybe even something substantial with Him, God had already begun with me. In other words, He is continually ahead of me.

So, here's the thing...

I suggest this, friends. Try a new weight-loss plan: take the weight, the suffering, the worry, the stuff we carry around with us all too willingly, and turn it over to Him every single morning. Let Him carry it away, like so much fiber.

He loves us so much he holds us on his lap and takes away the weight.

In the middle of the battle, it's time to enjoy the thrill of victory.

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