Critical Mass

I've learned something important about myself this summer: I don't want God nearly as much as I say I do. During the school semester, it was easy enough to fool myself, since I had more responsibilities and less time. That way, when I spent a certain amount of my time with God, I didn't notice how scant it was, or how poorly focused I was because, naturally, my time and attention was divided. But now, during this summer, as I have nothing else to do, practically every day has come down to a decision; will I spend my time with God, or not?

Of course I want to spend x amount of time in prayer and Bible reading. But I also want to do things that the flesh enjoys; Facebook and TV. So much time is wasted... and so when it nears 11 o clock or so, every night, I say, "Enough." I then spend however much time with God. But as a result, I'm going to sleep later... waking up later... and basically, the flesh and the spirit are trying to expand in my life, and there are only 24 hours in the day. My life is reaching critical mass.

Day after day, I waste so much time pandering to the flesh, away from God. Sometimes I feel like I'm running away from the prayer closet, running away from God's people that need prayer, running away from issues that God may be desiring to deal with in me. And as each minute is wasted, it's becoming more and more obvious that I really do not live up to the grandiose confessions of how deeply I wanted to know God that I made in the past. It's dumb because I know, at least in my head, that there is nothing more worthy than to be cast completely upon God, to live to Him and to none other. Yet when it comes to the minute-by-minute way that I spend my time... it's clear that that knowledge has yet to reach my heart and will.

I need God. Now, more than ever, as I face a lifetime in the shallows of the things of God, I need the Holy Spirit. I can (probably erroneously) assume that eventually, down the road I will shape up if I continue like this now. And then I'd come before God with the knowledge that I could have known Him, pleased Him, served Him so much more. Oh, God forbid it, please....

God, I feel like my situation is hopeless. I feel like this flesh will always be weighing me down, and that I'll never really break out to love, serve, and know You with all that's in me. Forgive me for all the times I deceived myself, and thought I could deceive You. I can't do anything without You; I can't love You, want You, know You, serve You; nothing. Oh Jesus, help me. Your Word says that Your love reaches to the heavens... so I plead that love, that You might hear my prayer and work out in me everything You purposed to do.

In Jesus' Name.

what the brother forgot.

We don't have to be prodigal to be a son. Eventually, in our spiritual walk, we pass the point of constantly returning to the Father's house after a season of rebelliousness. Eventually, we become faithful residents- sons, in fact, in His house. We begin to take up the responsibilities and callings of a Christian, as it were. But God forbid that we take on any further likeness to the elder brother!

I don't believe Jesus is saying that corruption and pride are inevitable in God's service. Surely, we have to deal with and expunge those things from our lives, but it will not remain forever; not when He perfects us. The great thing to remember, and the thing I believe the prodigal son's brother forgot, is sonship. We don't need to have the weight and guilt of open sin in order to run into the Father's arms. Every day (and, on THAT Day), when we rise and when we rest, we can run into the Father's arms and find acceptance, forgiveness, love, peace, and Jesus Himself, just like the prodigal son did. It is irrelevant how much work we have done, or have not done; it is irrelevant how hard we have stumbled, or how strong we have walked. In other words, God's grace, attention and love are exclusive to neither the longsuffering faithful nor the recently repentant. If only we would run into the Father's arms with a heart of meekness and surrender, God, by the blood of the Lamb, will not turn us away.

oh, for the strength of the elder, but the heart of the younger!