Our Non-sticky Sticky Stuff

 

 

It was well past 4 am. It often is.

 

I love the night. Such a sumptuous stillness. And it has this, this loud/quiet call thing going on. Like a sweetly rude interruption. Leaves me feeling like it must be heard.

 

Practically, it's where my knots get tackled and unravelled. Often. (Or sometimes made worse and ignored, if I'm honest).

 

But that's kind of okay. Because at night, I'm learning how to think and how to see. And I love learning. So night time's winsome ‘wow-ness’ is still – winning.

 

Still feels a bit of a guilty pleasure, though, sometimes. So that night, I wanted to get my head down, but hadn't, though felt I should of (things to do; people to see; family to keep…).

 

Awake in the wee small hours, I might feel recharged in so many ways, but that's not the point. You have to bring energy to your relationships. You can't consume it all on yourself. And no matter how much of a buzz My Secret Place offers, sleep does mean that at home, the Wonderpups get intentional, creative interactions, rather than ones which appear to take them for granted, or seem to go through the motions when I'm a tad jaded and not quite at the top of my game.

 

This particular night in question I was, as ever, alone. That was okay. But I felt incredibly vulnerable, too. Way, way too vulnerable. And that wasn't okay. Because when I'm feeling vulnerable, it usually means the family are, too. And that really, really isn't okay with me…

 

My vulnerability had been highlighted by a half-digested muse I’d had earlier that day. It came from my daily reading, which was taken from Leviticus. (I say 'daily', but I was behind, so I was catching up).

 

In the passage, Leviticus 26, God was promising His charges all kinds of stuff, if only they stuck at it, stuck with it and stuck with Him. Juicy covenant stuff. Outrageously generous grace, favour and mercy, in exchange for fidelity. On offer was the kind of stuff I really could have done with right there and then. And longed for.

 

So, much later, I was trying to get to bed and then it hit me: an insight that quickly slipped into the bathroom as I brushed my teeth, filled the room, and insisted – with its demanding, whispering, promising lilt – on being heard. It was so compelling, so promising, that I felt I had to write it down.

 

I quickly ducked out of the bathroom back down the stairs, listening as it told me off – nicely, without making me feel like an idiot, and while making me feel lighter at the same time…

 

I keep thinking over and over how I need to fix things. That my knots are my fault, or my responsibility. That I need to fix this. Sort that. Deal with the other. And that God isn't breaking through 'cos I'm not doing a great enough job at keeping my side of the bargain; sticking at it, sticking with it. Or sticking with Him.

 

So this galloping reflection that slapped me all up sideways was the reminder of something I had been learning, and to my shame hadn't fully grasped, but was so, so urgent that night to reapply, and way, way too important to mislay again.

 

The truth is, we can't – I can't – stick at or with anything in and of ourselves. It's impossible. No matter how well-intentioned, well-meaning and resolute we are, we will fail. We need to be like super glue, but we’re more like Post-It^® notes.

 

But this is why the glorious message of the New Covenant is so, so glorious: because our lack of stickiness isn't the issue anymore! Those juicy covenant rewards are ours not because we are faithful, but because Christ was! And now, complete in Him, hidden in Him, all the promises of God to us are Yes and Amen!

 

 

And there was more. I clearly felt in desperate need of grace and mercy. But I realised that its free flow is mine not as I get out of the way, but as I stop believing that it's all down to me with His help. I'm now hoping I can be hardwired instead to understand that 'He is my help,' with me working alongside Him.

 

You see, God's favour isn't contingent on my faithfulness, or lack thereof, but flows towards me as I believe in and trust wholeheartedly in Christ alone. The truth is, it's all down to Him, not me.

 

Did you get it? It's like my church leader said recently; "God doesn't give wages, He gives gifts."

 

Therefore, the good news is that because of His amazing favour towards me in Christ, He can now safely look to me to partner with Him. And so He calls me to join in with His redemptive, reformative, regenerative acts AS I rest in Him – on His terms, not mine. Then, but only then, can I stop blocking His torrent of favour, grace and mercy. And then to let its flow do its thing – as and when – as I stand underneath its deluge "and, having done all, stand" in Him.

 

My narrow path, then, is punctured with 'Stop!' signs. 'Stop' using your wits to earn the respite and the 'everything as it should be' that God invites me to help Him establish and increase forever and ever with Him.

 

I realised as I was mulling all this over that sure, me and my family were still technically incredibly vulnerable. And my manilla brown responsibilities and duties were all still addressed to me. And, ironically, trying to stop doing something I shouldn't is also doomed to failure!

 

But nevertheless, I still felt comforted. The heartening realisation was that principally, my rest, our rest – me and my house – didn't lie in how well I performed my duties. Nor did it rely on how intensely, deeply, passionately I cared about my family's security. My rest, our rest is in Christ alone, what my Saviour has fully finished and what the Father fantastically, amazingly covenants to do now.

 

How? As I dare to abide in Christ – surrendering, putting Him first and foremost, above all else. Even above my colossal duty drive. Even above my love for my family…

 

By the way, I should point out that the real reason I was feeling so vulnerable was because there was this threat, this looming possibility that I simply wasn't ready to fully trust Him with. It felt like a price too high to pay. I didn't want it, nor did I feel we could survive it.

 

Once I engaged the prospect of conflict and stopped running away from it, that’s when the peace came. Because all He wanted me to do was realise that I could trust Him with my family – even if my worst fears did come true…

 

"Take up your cross and follow Me."

"It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me."

"Guard your heart as carefully as you possibly can, for out of it flow the issues of life" [my paraphrase]

"If you abide in Me and My words abide in you, you shall ask what you will and it will be done to you."

"As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the Sons of God" [emphasis mine].

 

What other verses can you think of that would support – or you feel appear to contradict – the above?

 

We will all face big questions like this – what am I really most committed to? And what price would I pay to preserve it? – at some point in our walk with God. Is God asking such questions of you today?

 

 

With

Or without;

Secure insecurity,

To be secure in that…

Everything is up for grabs

And nothing is.

Entirely out of harm's way

But not at all safe:

Prisoner of hope

Hemmed in

Yet unpicked;

Both frayed and free.

Brought way too low

Lifted way too high

Far too often

Not often enough…

Not me

No, Me

Yes, You

Yes, you!

What??

No, Who

How?!

Why whenever, of course!

Whenever You're ready, then…

Wherever

There, ever

Ever ready

Ready and willing…

All is Mine

All Mine is yours.

All mine is Yours

All is mine.

All for One

Us too

We Three,

All in all

My all in All

My All in all

All… in.