Musings
"What are you doing here, Elijah?"
The past month or so on many, many nights I while I worked on the plans for the house that I am to build, I can barely keep my eyes open by 3AM. There are instances when I just lay beside my wife tired and fall asleep, unable to even turn off the computer. But plenty still are those nights when my spirit cannot stay silent, and I become guilty before God. Spending the greater part of my time for something so noble as to provide shelter for the family, I was in the process, neglecting my ministry: not to the public proclamation of the word, but towards the Lord himself. Grief-stricken in my soul, I would lay on the cold floor face down worshiping, adoring the Lord for the Holy God that He is till daybreak before my body retires by itself.
I do not have any excuse so as to neglect worship. What can I truly give to the Lord that would make Him wonder, or what can I say that would take Him by surprise? What can I conceive in my heart that the Lord does not already know? I can only worship. My prayers have been void of words, the Lord has exchanged grief and sorrow for eloquence, but in doing so has given me instead beauty for ashes, I can only worship. My heart is infested with sin, I am helpless, I can only worship. His mercy endures forever.
The house I will build will have 21 piers or supports, elevating the structure two feet upward above the ground. "Too many," one might say, but unless the weight is evenly distributed among many, less support will drive the few piers into the ground, and just one, will surely break under all the pressure. Hence, Elijah's cry. He thought he was all that was left, and that everything rested on His shoulders. The fear was too great, and his humanity drove him far from the fields of labor, and into hiding. But the Lord did not abandon him to his self-pity. I have withdrawn from fellowship for the whole of May, solely to break the routine and draw my heart once again back into worship. There were again, thoughts of isolation, of shying away from Sunday services and its repetitive practices. Disillusioned, disenchanted. Full of Self.
Am I here to bring results to expectations? To gather likes? To speak my mind and seek affirmation? To settle into a niche of like-minded brethren who labor tirelessly in the work of the Lord? If I do so, I would only be standing on just one end of the scale. Laboring for people tires me. Elijah wanted to die. There is no fulfillment in laboring for people. There is, however, an inherent stash of joy when the Master says, 'Well done, good and faithful servant.' How I crave and yearn for days of undisturbed silence before the throne of grace instead, to "be with the Lord". I fear going back to the world for I know sin crouches at the door, and the only place of solace was at the foot of the cross. But if I do so, I would merely be standing on the opposite end of the scale. An effort in futility. I cannot choose sides. I am to stand in the gap, or die. I am laboring for the Lord, and I am invincible till my work is done.
Am I here to bring results to expectations? To gather likes? To speak my mind and seek affirmation? To settle into a niche of like-minded brethren who labor tirelessly in the work of the Lord? If I do so, I would only be standing on just one end of the scale. Laboring for people tires me. Elijah wanted to die. There is no fulfillment in laboring for people. There is, however, an inherent stash of joy when the Master says, 'Well done, good and faithful servant.' How I crave and yearn for days of undisturbed silence before the throne of grace instead, to "be with the Lord". I fear going back to the world for I know sin crouches at the door, and the only place of solace was at the foot of the cross. But if I do so, I would merely be standing on the opposite end of the scale. An effort in futility. I cannot choose sides. I am to stand in the gap, or die. I am laboring for the Lord, and I am invincible till my work is done.
Yet, how often have I found myself in this dark place? Unable and unwanting to move for fear of making mistakes. For fear of accumulating more hatred. Like watching a passing train up close in a blur. Straining so much towards laboring, in turn, exacts a most grievous toll on my soul and the secret place of prayer is always unoccupied. This is sin. I may labor. I may teach. I may preach, and press on even but without anointing! I have seen dead men do it! But to what purpose is laboring in the Lord's vineyard if not for this one thing; God's anointing? The world does not need me nor my opinion, it needs Christ and his gospel. I cannot minister one-sided to the people neglecting Christ, and I cannot minister to Christ one-sided neglecting the people.
Oh, what dire place is this indeed. Does every Christian see, feel, and carry this burden? Is being a Christian a mere worldly title? Do I know how it truly is to be embodied by the power and slaying presence of the thrice-holy God? Pulling down strongholds, conquering kingdoms, working righteousness, obtaining promises, quenching fires, escaping death, out of weakness being made strong, stopping the mouths of lions, receiving our dead children raised back to life? Have I ever dropped as dead before His presence? Am I prepared to die in the faith without seeing the Lord's promise? Not accepting deliverance in spite of the weight? Blessed be the LORD, my God, who strengthens my weak and feeble knees.
I need to take my zeal for earthly labor and thrust it all in faith unto the Lord. There are times when God will withdraw himself and make me feel as though I'm dropping into the nethermost hell. He'll leave me alone and reveal to me how I really struggle in my own eloquence and ability and not after His anointing. Oh, soul, return oft to the spring from which eternal life springs forth for the journey ahead is too great for you. Strive to see the Lord. I must see Jesus. What a tremendous blessing it is when he mercifully unplugs our hearts and drains all the dross of our unbelief leaving us dry and desolate, gasping for divine anointing, till we cry out for His presence, and He answers!
"Oh, Lord," Samson mightily pleaded, "strengthen me just this once, then let me die."
Oh, what dire place is this indeed. Does every Christian see, feel, and carry this burden? Is being a Christian a mere worldly title? Do I know how it truly is to be embodied by the power and slaying presence of the thrice-holy God? Pulling down strongholds, conquering kingdoms, working righteousness, obtaining promises, quenching fires, escaping death, out of weakness being made strong, stopping the mouths of lions, receiving our dead children raised back to life? Have I ever dropped as dead before His presence? Am I prepared to die in the faith without seeing the Lord's promise? Not accepting deliverance in spite of the weight? Blessed be the LORD, my God, who strengthens my weak and feeble knees.
I need to take my zeal for earthly labor and thrust it all in faith unto the Lord. There are times when God will withdraw himself and make me feel as though I'm dropping into the nethermost hell. He'll leave me alone and reveal to me how I really struggle in my own eloquence and ability and not after His anointing. Oh, soul, return oft to the spring from which eternal life springs forth for the journey ahead is too great for you. Strive to see the Lord. I must see Jesus. What a tremendous blessing it is when he mercifully unplugs our hearts and drains all the dross of our unbelief leaving us dry and desolate, gasping for divine anointing, till we cry out for His presence, and He answers!
"Oh, Lord," Samson mightily pleaded, "strengthen me just this once, then let me die."
Looking back and reflecting on these, I realized one thing: all I needed, was a cave where I can be with the Lord for weeks on end. A rice field would also be appropriate. But for now, the cold floor will do.
Comments
Post a Comment