I spent much of my day balancing on a rickety ladder, stuffed up a skylight, with the brilliant sun shining in my eyes and paint dripping on my head. The result was two neatly painted skylight chutes, a happy Papa and a relieved me.
Overnight the clouds dissipated and the morning dawned glowing with the warmth of the sun. In my Bible reading this morning, I read about the man born blind, whom Jesus healed. I love the sunshine, and I can’t imagine how anyone could not love it’s warmth and light, or how anyone could possibly not see the light, or at least see the colors in the world, and know the sun is shining. But Jesus said people are blind to the light. Only He can heal them. But I should be bringing them to the light—pointing them to the light so that it can pierce the darkness in their souls and Jesus can heal them.
The DVD last night talked about the people we know who don’t know Jesus—especially our loved ones. Someone's been on my mind lately. Today the Lord brought her up again, reminding me of ways I could reach out, truths to share and the perils of remaining quiet. I spent an hour on my knees in prayer for her.
Then I got up, went back to my chores and did nothing the rest of the day.
How is it, I can read the Bible, burn with conviction and then get up and walk away is if nothing happened? I spent hours in the Word today, poring over it, yet my heart is still cold and hard and I am slow to obey. “Tomorrow,” I say. “Tomorrow I will step up and obey the Lord. I will have more time tomorrow. Today I’ll just prepare myself by praying about it while I do other things.”
It’s like the men who came to Jesus offering to follow Him and He gave them tasks. And they said, “Me first.” Jesus asked me to share His truth with Aunt Helen and I said, “I will Lord, but permit ME FIRST to go and paint that skylight.”
But I’m torn. My father asked me to paint the skylight. My father asked me to weed the yard. My father asked me to have supper on time. My father asked me to e-mail pictures to a co-worker. All those things got done—those temporal things. And the spiritual thing did not. Am I blaming my father for my lack of devotion? For my disobedience? The Lord won’t fall for that one. Especially since I now sit here detailing my day (in which I feel like I accomplished absolutely nothing) and still not writing that e-mail.
I don’t know what to say.
“Now the word of Yahweh came to me saying,
“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you,
And before you were born I consecrated you;
I have appointed you a prophet to the nations.”
Then I said, “Alas, Lord Yahweh!
Behold, I do not know how to speak,
Because I am a youth.”
But Yahweh said to me,
“Do not say, ‘I am a youth,’
Because everywhere I send you, you shall go,
And all that I command you, you shall speak.
Do not be afraid of them,
For I am with you to deliver you,” declares Yahweh.
Then Yahweh stretched out His hand and touched my mouth, and Yahweh said to me,
“Behold, I have put My words in your mouth.
See? I have appointed you this day over the nations and over the kingdoms,
To pluck up and to break down,
To destroy and to overthrow,
To build and to plant.”
It’s not about whether or not I’m wise and learned and clever with words. It’s about my obedience—to go where the Lord sends and to say what He says. He says, “Don’t feed me that ‘I’m too young’ junk.” After all, I’ve just got to point the way to the Ancient of Days.
Lord, Thou asked a difficult thing
Since I have owned Thee as my King.
Thou asked that I would share Thy truth
Despite my fear—in spite my youth.
So Lord, I choose to speak Thy word,
May it be, in my hand, a sword
To separate the heart and mind
And lose the lost for Thee to find.