All That You Are

     This morning I was reminded of a quick transition that I had made a couple of weekends ago during worship. Our youth praise band led our combined service today, our Commitment Sunday with the theme “All In”. They were wonderful and sharing their heart for worship always makes a Sunday morning worship time special for me.

     However, I want to dial back and share my thoughts about the transition I went through during the same song that started off our service this morning. It wasn’t anything major and nor was it a lengthy process, it took the blink of God’s eye and was over and we moved on.

     The last line of “This is Amazing Grace” is “Jesus, I sing for All that You’ve done for me”. My first thought when singing through those words was ‘shouldn’t we be singing for all that He is?’  I shook it off pretty quickly because I was there to glorify God and not to knit-pick; knit-picking being a manifestation of my judgmental heart/spirit. I made it through the rest of the song in good shape just as this morning I rose to the occasion and praised Him.

    The full chorus:

“This is amazing grace

This is unfailing love

That You would take my place

That You would bear my cross

You would lay down Your life

That I would be set free

Jesus, I sing for

All that You’ve done for me”

     Later after that first time through the song as I over analyzed, as I am so likely to do, I did come to an interesting conclusion about this little knit that I had picked. When I thought about it I had to believe that really, Jesus is all He does. He is known as the Prince of Peace because He brings peace. He is the Lamb who was slain because He is. He is known as our Savior because he does and because he made the sacrifice for us. So to sing for all that He’s done for us is just fine because He is all that He’s done and more than we can comprehend.

     Even with this innocent realization I have to take pause. If Jesus is all that He’s done, am I not all that I’ve done and do? Sobering. And therefore if I am of God’s Kingdom, should I not do those things that are found in the Kingdom, and behave as though I am saved? The realization of this gives me leverage. I don’t have to knit-pick because I am His and I can put that judgment aside and move on.

     I love the verse that follows the first chorus:

“Who brings our chaos back into order

Who makes the orphan a son and daughter

The King of Glory, the King above all kings”

In His grip, jerry

Sneaky Freedom

     Liberation has a way of sneaking up on you, even when you don’t particularly deserve it. Freedom’s agents appear in disguise – in persons and things that we might not suspect – and do their work on our hearts with a laser surgeon’s skill. We must be vigilant against their schemes lest we let loose of our favorite binding chains.

     Take today for instance, I’d had a long day of riding and walking before heading down to the bi-annual Phantom of the Auction, our church’s biggest fundraising night for our youth groups. I was somewhat determined to go down, bid on a few silent auction items, and finish the evening in the back of the courtyard during the live auction, arms crossed and checkbook firmly in my back pocket. My release from the comfortable bondage of some long-held bitterness actually began in my own home and by my own daughter; how could she do that to me? A few words, a little hug, and liberation began to seep in. Then when we got down there and I saw all the work some loving people had done on the behalf of the children I needed to wrap the chains a little tighter for fear of losing them all together. The breaker though were the kids themselves. Jr. High and High School kids wandered around, smiles on their faces while they carried around trays of goodies while they watched as tens of tens of adults meandered around the floor like a stream though a meadow while opening their purses and taking out their wallets. The ones not loaded down with trays hugged me.

     Those little varmints were infectious. Soon, a significant link of my favorite chain fell away. When I looked into the outbox of my soul I saw that the chain link was moldy and my nose wrinkled up at the stench; I knew that it was of my own doing. I left it in the outbox and as I did a couple of recent decisions that I’d made seemed more right than ever. I felt lighthearted for the rest of the night and a joy that I recognized took the place of my old familiar bonds.

     I shouldn’t really hold the church kids or the loving adults at the auction completely to blame for this, not really even my own wife and kids. I set myself up really. The night before I’d written a scene in my story that was an outtake from my own life; that very first Mission Arizona for me where a bunch of Junior High kids and advisors healed me of a long standing and deeply rooted bitterness towards God. I began seeing a certain grudge I’d been holding onto was poisoning me, making me far less the man God wants of me. I followed that late night’s writing with a day spent with riding friends at the motorcycle show; their camaraderie was infectious; the writing and the companionship hastened the rusting out of the crucial link of chain.

     It has amazed me how liberating it is to have a revelation of my own culpability in the bondage of my spirit. I feel sheepish and glad-hearted all at the same time.

     Resistance to the forces of freedom is foolish, they can sneak up on you when you least expect it. Don’t fight it; embrace it and get on with living.

In His grip, jerry