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- Written by: Don Goulding
Who is this coming up from the desert
like a column of smoke,
like a fragrant billow of myrrh and frankincense,
every kind of fragrant powder of the traveling merchants? (Song of Songs 3:6)
Life under Adam’s curse sometimes grows wearisome. There is much the Christian must attend to—honor God, love others, cling to grace, remain humble, maintain purity, practice discipline, study the word, yada, yada, yada. It’s like firing round after round through the barrel of a gun. Every shot must be on target, but each one leaves a microscopic residue inside the bore that leads to misfires. Eventually, the whole rifle must be dismantled and cleaned back to gleaming perfection.
What cleans my heart is passion. Not all the time, but occasionally my inner being needs to be taken apart and wiped down with ecstasy over Jesus. I have to experience him as more than an historical entity or future Savior. I need to freeze in my tracks and gasp at him thundering across the desert to my rescue, eyes inflamed with zeal, smiting enemies on every side, and smelling of Hawaiian ginger. This is my Jesus, the champion of my soul, and as fierce upon his enemies as he is joyful over my love.
It’s good, from time to time, to remember who I serve. There is a rhythm to life. At the bottom of each cycle, I must be cleaned and remade by the passion of my faith. It puts me back into service, ready to fire exacting shots of purity, discipline, and generosity.
A soldier serving out of obligatory fear is a draining threat to his battalion. A warrior driven by passion, and filled by the Spirit of God, is an unstoppable army unto himself. He is like his own passionate King.
Prayer: Jesus my King and my Savior, I am rapt in awe of you.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are the people who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:29)
The space around them suffused with a presence of holy goodness so tangible that it felt like liquid, rather than air. An intoxicating radiance danced through their bodies, and goosebumps waved over their skin. Moses in the cleft of the rock, Solomon in the glory filled temple, the apostles atop the Mount of Transfiguration, John deep in an apocalyptic trance–encounters with the glory of God that forged spiritual giants from clay mortals.
Now here I come, as common a duffer as any who lived. Yet, Jesus offers me a blessing in faith that can exceed what Moses and Elijah received. He says it comes of believing without seeing. What those who behold undeniable miracles have is not faith but experience, and yet, faith is what pleases God (Heb. 11:6). He desires that we love him and not his pyrotechnic miracles.
I spoke with the Lord on this theme as I performed one of those unspectacular but precious life tasks—walking my seventeen-month-old grandson in the park. Jesus showed me that, as I love Jaden, God loves me. He demonstrated how I could engage as much of his glory in that small moment as in any Mount Carmel fire from heaven extravaganza. It’s beside the calm waters of a simple life where whispers of God’s truth are heard the loudest.
God’s desire is that my heart would look for encounters with him in each bite of daily bread. By this means, a faith more precious than that of our Bible heroes may yet grow.
Prayer: Lord, give me heroic faith through small things.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
For I delight in the law of God in my inner being. But I see a different law in my members waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that is in my members. (Romans 7:22, 23)
Spiritual growth only comes to me with bloody violence. My old Mr. Sin Nature is a wily beast. One of his tricks is showy enthusiasm for biblical head knowledge. He encourages me to study and memorize scripture, but his slimy goal is preoccupation from living out the truth.
Another Mr. Sin Nature tactic is to read the Bible too quickly. He won’t hold still under the stinging poultice of a few chosen words, and instead, prefers entertainment by the storyline. These, and other ploys, force me to sit on the urchin.
I begin in a place where I can be alone with Jesus. I ask what heart work needs the most attention, then read no more than a chapter of Scripture. How I choose where to read matters little as God maneuvers any method to get me where he wants. I find he consistently points me to what I need.
Next, I let the Spirit highlight the handful of words on which I’m to focus. Then I wrestle with my squirming old nature, and pin him under those words until he squeals, “I give.” Repentant prayer and brief journaling knock the final wind out of the monster.
I have to repeat this process each morning because, after years of letting the sin nature run wild, he thinks he can poke his nose into every good thought. Only when I’m methodical and strong handed is he containable. For now, I have to cohabit with the rascal, but I have another guest who forces him to sit in the corner. I need Jesus in my house every hour. Not only does he pardon my keeping the sin brat, but he also helps me babysit the wretch.
Prayer: Lion of Judah, this is war. Help me overcome myself.