Life In The Word

As I stare into the tube, my heart aches for you.  It's as though a hidden force is holding my body still, to waste away in make believe lives instead of drinking in LIFE, your life, the life you chose to give to me.  And what a gift it is, this never-waning fount.  It washes over me, makes me white as snow, pardons me from myself, from the punishment of my transgressions: those putrid pills of self-fulfillment that leave me pruning in the fire.  Light me up, Lord, with your fire!  Burn my flesh to make it pure, prove me righteous -- not my own; consume me with your righteous Son.  For you, my God, are everything.  You are my hope of glory.

Ever have a moment that makes you feel like you are literally two people?  One of those moments where your mind physically argues with itself over something?  When it comes to picking up my Bible, I'm often caught in one of these inward arguments.

"I haven't read in three days.  I should just turn off the tv right now and pick it up."

"But there's only eight minutes left in this episode.  If I turn it off now, I probably won't come back to it later and then I'll have to wait until next season to find out if Andrea was able to kill Milton before he turned."

"Ok, when the show is over, I'm going to spend a few minutes reading."

"If I don't get started on the dishes when the show is over, I know I'll end up leaving them until tomorrow.  I really need to be more diligent when it comes to keeping the kitchen clean."

"But seriously, first thing tomorrow morning I'm blocking out half an hour to read."

Now one could argue that sticking to a quiet time regimin for the sake of box checking doesn't do a bit of good.  And while I would disagree that it's futile altogether -- God says in Isaiah 55 that every word that goes out from His mouth will achieve the purpose for which He spoke it -- I would agree that doing for the sake of doing has never quenched my thirst.  But oh!  When I open those pages for the sake of wanting to curl into my Father's lap and listen to His voice...what marvelous work those words do every time!  It's like diving into a pool of perfect 83º water, then rising up from the bottom to feel the warmth of the sun on your face as cool droplets trickle down your cheeks (can you tell I'm craving a summer swim?).

When I read scripture, regardless of what book it is, no matter how many times I've read a particular passage, and despite my often short attention span, I see life in the ink on the page.  A sentence jumps off the page at me like a bullfrog playing Ants on an iPhone (seriously, YouTube it, you'll thank me later), and I'm instantly submerged into deeper understanding.  My heart's little flicker of yellow flame is ignited with the force of a thousand Duraflame lighters, and I catch myself contorting the muscles of my face into an upward grin that does not flatter me, but feels so beautifully right.  My eyes see, my ears hear, my tongue shouts, "How glorious You are, Lord!"  Ok, well usually my tongue doesn't actually shout that, but I can picture myself shouting, so that counts, right?

This is no dead thing, my faith in the God of Creation.  And though there are more distractions than attractors, if you're counting by numbers, the futile work of this world can never win the war in my heart.  I've been purchased, adopted, grafted in, and called heir.  And when my God calls, He finishes the good works He starts.  Good thing, because although my kitchen didn't win the battle for my time, the need to know the ending to the season finale definitely did.  Sigh.