DebraBee

I have given much time and thought to “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction”. Lacking maturity, I once thought fear of the Lord to mean how He would smite me for the sake of my nature to be sinful. In my foolishness, I did despise this fear and ran as far as I could get from learning anything about Him or what His word said. I have since learned the word fear was not only what I knew it to mean, but so much more. Fear also means to have reverential awe of.

As I am changed day by day, my “fear of the Lord” becomes more a wonder at His goodness. I am awestruck at His very heart for someone like me. I am in wonder at how patient He is with me to learn and grow. I am amazed by the depth of His love for me. I tremble in the revelation He has every right to pour out His justice, but chooses instead to show mercy and compassion.

My fear now is redefined, it is how lost I would be without Him. How hopeless my life would be living in the empty vanity of humanistic wisdom.

Scripture Pro 1:7

“I am mistaken…” These words I spoke, but they weren’t easy. I knew I would look foolish, but truth was of greater value than my foolishness. I have wondered at the value of such candidness in our society as of late. Taking the path of least resistance is often what we do to prevent confrontation. I admire the peacemakers and try to live my life as such, but I wonder at the history lessons we may be ignoring. Will we compromise truth to keep the peace? Will we fail to admit we’ve made a mistake because we fear looking foolish more than we fear being truthful?

If we are fortunate to be open to it, there comes a place in our lives where we begin to discover who we really are, and just as importantly, who we are not. Identity is a tricky thing in our culture because it’s the condition of being oneself and not another.

Our culture sends mixed messages about the importance of identity. On the one hand they are always promoting those who seem like the maverick or innovative one, but then they conjure up endless ways to promote duplication of the very thing which made them different in the first place.

Identity in truth never sends a mixed message. Walking in that identity however can be daunting to look at, especially when you are meant to start walking it alone. I was reminded today of how Abram was told, “Get out of your country, from your family and from your father’s house, to a land that I will show you.” Of course Abram took someone with him. I can only imagine because he did not want to be alone on the journey.

Peter was desirous to do the same thing. He was told by Jesus, “Then feed My sheep. I tell you the truth, when you were young, you were able to do as you liked; you dressed yourself and went wherever you wanted to go. But when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and others will dress you and take you where you don’t want to go.” Peter looked at the other guy walking with them and asked Jesus, “What about him, Lord?” Jesus replied, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? As for you, follow Me.”

That last sentence is the one which will make all the difference in any life….“As for you, follow Me”. My own identity will always be wrapped up in the truth of that sentence. As I am obedient to follow, step by step, I find my identity. I find my character.

Scriptures Gen 12:1, John 21:17-19

We’d let our back yard alone for a long season. There were reasons we never discussed but I knew my own heart about it. It was time to move forward though and I set about the task. At one point I found myself turning up dry and lifeless dirt filled with weeds. My hands, feet and every muscle began to ache with the effort, but I loved seeing the underlying soil.

Eventually I stopped for a bit and just rested my eyes on the truth of what I was seeing. What looked so hard, so forgotten, so overrun with ugliness was nothing permanent, it just hadn’t been tended to. Beneath the surface there was soft and fertile ground we could plant into.

I lay aside my tools and looked down at myself. I was covered in dirt from my head to my toes but I just didn’t mind. As I worked in my yard digging into the deeper soil, I knew my Father was doing the same in my heart. I was His garden to be made over.

Eze 36:26  And I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart.

I heard her say many things were lost in material possessions and I loved her peace of mind about it. We all try to hold onto our things, embracing this false sense of security. When she went on to say “we lost some church friends” I knew exactly what she was talking about. To really love Jesus means to lose our religion.

Gal 1:10 (NLT)  Obviously, I’m not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant.

Father, where are we going?
To a new place daughter
Father, I don’t recognize this place
Trust me young one
Father, it looks so different
I Am taking you into a new place

In the light of the candles
I see more than just the flames
In a room full of people
I see more than just their names

In the sound of the guitar
I hear more than just the strings
In the voices of the music
All of heaven joins to sing

In the words being spoken
I hear more than what is said
In the hearts of His people
By the Spirit we are being led

My bare feet felt the wetness in the grass. Looking around, the streets and sidewalks were completely dry. Life giving moisture in this water was not poured out on anything man-made, only that which was grown by the Lord Himself. I enjoyed this wetness touching my feet, wanting so much more of it.

I sat in the comfort of my home. I was surrounded by my bibles, notes, computers and aids to look deep into God’s Word. I had even written in my precious journal about “having a heart of love, a heart without compromise for my Lord Jesus”. I even enjoyed my worship music quietly playing, and then it happened. My cell phone rang with a phone number I didn’t recognize.

It was a friend I had helped a couple of times before. Her life was messy to be honest. It looked nothing like mine. She was often homeless and needing more than I ever thought I had to give. Her request was simple today and it was something I felt I could do without interrupting my life too much; drive her to an appointment.

We talked some more and eventually I prayed for her. As she began talking about her life, she shared with me her desire to have a bicycle to get around more. She mentioned a pastor’s name who said he’d try to help. I shared back other church names that had services that could help her as well…but then it hit me!

So quietly, so tender, so gentle to prick my heart in truth; it wasn’t organizations who were meant to help her. It was the one she reached out to, calling for help…it was me. I had bicycles in my garage hanging on hooks for the couple times in years I had used them. My heart was wounded for how I had been so blind to think it was someone else’s job to answer her need. I quickly responded to the prick of my heart to tell her I had a bike for her. Her words of gratitude felt bitter to my ears, but they corrected my steps once more.

After getting off the phone, I looked at my bible, my notes, my journal and the comfortable environment I was given to enjoy them. An ache pounded in my chest for how easy it was to get so far away from the very words I was reading. I added to my journal, “thank You, to show me what You really mean by love without compromise, keep it coming Lord!”