I am growing so fond of the name of Jesus.
Don't get me wrong, I love my sweet Savior. And am so thankful. I just felt that saying "Jesus" was a little cliche, maybe, or babyish even. I stuck with "the Lord" in conversation and when it came to praying, "Heavenly Father." I wasn't fully comfortable with the Holy Spirit either. In theory... yes. Real life, the nitty-gritty ins & outs of day to day living, not on mission trips or in soup kitchens... not so much. I thought I believed. I said I believed. But I sure didn't live belief. I did not "hold unswervingly the the hope I profess."
It made for a hardened and bitter me, trying to keep up the Christian act by drawing strength from the depths of my sinful heart, "walking the walk" simply for the praise and approval.
Hallelujah, thank you, Father for being in the business of sanctification! For redeeming me from the pit. Ever pursuant, ever patient, ever purging me of my sinful default mode.
I've loved Baylor, and I've loved my major, and I've loved my professors profusely since day one.
January 22nd changed everything, though.
Brought a lot to the surface.
Dr. Whipple introduced Abhi, and I had known that Dr. Whipple had led mission trips to India a couple times, so I assumed that the Indian man that stood before me would share how speech pathology could be used for missions. But no, he simply shared his testimony. A full, precious lecture day, devoted to making Jesus famous.
Jesus, the name prayed over a dead woman. The name that stirred the breath in her lungs and brought forth coughing and sneezing in front of a village gathered to mourn her loss. Abhi's mother.
That's right, I'm not recounting a long-ago Bible story. Evidence of a living & active God.
The day after the miracle took place in his mother, Abhi went to the home of the woman who uttered that saving prayer, desiring to learn the mantra that did the deed. For months his family had been "attacked by spirits," and so they had diligently been paying, and I mean paying, visits to their guru to adopt his mantras in hopes of driving these spirits out. He began asking questions of the woman, and she finally cut him short and explained that her offering was a prayer in the name of Jesus, not a mantra.
Without hesitation, Abhi committed to learning about and following this Jesus.
Hello, Holy Spirit.
For two years, he continued asking questions of the woman, who was illiterate and simply shared what little knowledge she had. One day, she told Abhi she had no more answers, but gave him an address that she claimed could offer him more.
And so, as this sweet man who claimed not to speak English put it:
"One fine morning, before the sun could show its face..." Abhi boarded a train to Delhi. At 17 years old, with no concept of electricity or education or much at all outside of his poor, isolated village, Abhi had no idea that the train would cost money. So for 28 hours, and the price of 450 of the 500 rupee (less than $10) he had in his pocket, he stood, hiding away in the restroom to rest his legs occasionally. And then 5 hours on a bus. He arrived at the destination written on that card: a Bible college.
But the college meant more money that he didn't have. 33 hours from home, no way to contact family or get back on a train to return.
I leaned forward in my seat. Lightbulb. I finally figured out the phrase "a tug on your heartstrings." A physiological feeling, propelling my chin and shoulders up and out, the upward suspension of my stomach and lungs as I held my breath.
Abhi declared "Lord, You are my help and my stay. I have come just for You." Joyously, He enrolled in the college and made arrangements to work at night to pay his tuition. He spoke of sitting on the rooftop at night as the other students slept...
...surely he was about to complain, to give in to frustration or feelings of unfairness that he worked so hard and was so tired...
he sat on the rooftop weeping with gratitude for the Lord's goodness & faithfulness.
Oh my. My own tears are often negative feelings toward school and tiredness.
Abhi has since returned to his village & brought the light & love of Jesus with him. He was initially received with threats of death. But he has been obedient to the Lord, and doors have been opened for him, as he is firm in the belief that "education plus God equals transformation."
Abhi shared about the Israelites between Egypt and the Promised Land. Between the parting of the Red Sea and the crossing of the River Jordan. The 40 years in the wilderness, the midst, daily life. He proposed, "If there is no trouble in the wilderness, then where will the trouble be?"
Umm. Here this man stands, in front of a lot of girls and iPhones and designer totes and planners and stupid hairties that cost more than a train ride to Delhi in a classroom for which we pay thousands of dollars just to be physically present, and he's comforting us about our troubles?!?! Not bitter. Not condescending. Not guilt-tripping. Just sharing with fellow believers about his life in Christ. Proclaiming truth. Accepting of his portion.
"How do you make an ice cube an ice ball?
Really? How do you? Can you chisel it?
No.
You must melt and refreeze and shape the ice.
The Lord does so with us to shape us"
Sometimes the melting hurts. Refining fires to unfreeze my hardened heart, to call those still molecules back to life.
Sometimes the melting isn't pretty. I stay in the fluid state, uncontrolled and spread thin for longer than I please.
"We are not of ourselves, we are of Him, and so we are for Him."
I'll pass through the fires. I'll relax in His hands to be remolded. Because I sure believe in a living, active, Triune God.
Father, Holy Spirit, even Jesus.
I'll be honest, it hasn't always been this way. Not fully. I used to roll my eyes, or at least have that attitude of heart, if someone used it one too many times. Come on, you know the type. The Sunday School yuppies. With the smile that made you feel guilty that you were tired & confused & sometimes "Jesus" didn't explain death&rejection&tragedy&acne.
Don't get me wrong, I love my sweet Savior. And am so thankful. I just felt that saying "Jesus" was a little cliche, maybe, or babyish even. I stuck with "the Lord" in conversation and when it came to praying, "Heavenly Father." I wasn't fully comfortable with the Holy Spirit either. In theory... yes. Real life, the nitty-gritty ins & outs of day to day living, not on mission trips or in soup kitchens... not so much. I thought I believed. I said I believed. But I sure didn't live belief. I did not "hold unswervingly the the hope I profess."
It made for a hardened and bitter me, trying to keep up the Christian act by drawing strength from the depths of my sinful heart, "walking the walk" simply for the praise and approval.
Hallelujah, thank you, Father for being in the business of sanctification! For redeeming me from the pit. Ever pursuant, ever patient, ever purging me of my sinful default mode.
I've loved Baylor, and I've loved my major, and I've loved my professors profusely since day one.
January 22nd changed everything, though.
Brought a lot to the surface.
Dr. Whipple introduced Abhi, and I had known that Dr. Whipple had led mission trips to India a couple times, so I assumed that the Indian man that stood before me would share how speech pathology could be used for missions. But no, he simply shared his testimony. A full, precious lecture day, devoted to making Jesus famous.
Jesus, the name prayed over a dead woman. The name that stirred the breath in her lungs and brought forth coughing and sneezing in front of a village gathered to mourn her loss. Abhi's mother.
That's right, I'm not recounting a long-ago Bible story. Evidence of a living & active God.
The day after the miracle took place in his mother, Abhi went to the home of the woman who uttered that saving prayer, desiring to learn the mantra that did the deed. For months his family had been "attacked by spirits," and so they had diligently been paying, and I mean paying, visits to their guru to adopt his mantras in hopes of driving these spirits out. He began asking questions of the woman, and she finally cut him short and explained that her offering was a prayer in the name of Jesus, not a mantra.
Without hesitation, Abhi committed to learning about and following this Jesus.
Hello, Holy Spirit.
For two years, he continued asking questions of the woman, who was illiterate and simply shared what little knowledge she had. One day, she told Abhi she had no more answers, but gave him an address that she claimed could offer him more.
And so, as this sweet man who claimed not to speak English put it:
"One fine morning, before the sun could show its face..." Abhi boarded a train to Delhi. At 17 years old, with no concept of electricity or education or much at all outside of his poor, isolated village, Abhi had no idea that the train would cost money. So for 28 hours, and the price of 450 of the 500 rupee (less than $10) he had in his pocket, he stood, hiding away in the restroom to rest his legs occasionally. And then 5 hours on a bus. He arrived at the destination written on that card: a Bible college.
But the college meant more money that he didn't have. 33 hours from home, no way to contact family or get back on a train to return.
I leaned forward in my seat. Lightbulb. I finally figured out the phrase "a tug on your heartstrings." A physiological feeling, propelling my chin and shoulders up and out, the upward suspension of my stomach and lungs as I held my breath.
Abhi declared "Lord, You are my help and my stay. I have come just for You." Joyously, He enrolled in the college and made arrangements to work at night to pay his tuition. He spoke of sitting on the rooftop at night as the other students slept...
...surely he was about to complain, to give in to frustration or feelings of unfairness that he worked so hard and was so tired...
he sat on the rooftop weeping with gratitude for the Lord's goodness & faithfulness.
Oh my. My own tears are often negative feelings toward school and tiredness.
Abhi has since returned to his village & brought the light & love of Jesus with him. He was initially received with threats of death. But he has been obedient to the Lord, and doors have been opened for him, as he is firm in the belief that "education plus God equals transformation."
Abhi shared about the Israelites between Egypt and the Promised Land. Between the parting of the Red Sea and the crossing of the River Jordan. The 40 years in the wilderness, the midst, daily life. He proposed, "If there is no trouble in the wilderness, then where will the trouble be?"
Umm. Here this man stands, in front of a lot of girls and iPhones and designer totes and planners and stupid hairties that cost more than a train ride to Delhi in a classroom for which we pay thousands of dollars just to be physically present, and he's comforting us about our troubles?!?! Not bitter. Not condescending. Not guilt-tripping. Just sharing with fellow believers about his life in Christ. Proclaiming truth. Accepting of his portion.
"How do you make an ice cube an ice ball?
Really? How do you? Can you chisel it?
No.
You must melt and refreeze and shape the ice.
The Lord does so with us to shape us"
Sometimes the melting hurts. Refining fires to unfreeze my hardened heart, to call those still molecules back to life.
Sometimes the melting isn't pretty. I stay in the fluid state, uncontrolled and spread thin for longer than I please.
"We are not of ourselves, we are of Him, and so we are for Him."
I'll pass through the fires. I'll relax in His hands to be remolded. Because I sure believe in a living, active, Triune God.
Father, Holy Spirit, even Jesus.
Comments
Post a Comment