My husband’s grandfather passed away last week.  He was a sweet, diminutive man who loved the Braves.  My husband was named after him.  He was a World War II vet.

At his funeral, the local VFW (I assume) came to pay their respects.  They formed a procession in salute as his casket passed by with flag draped.

I tried to speak to many of them and I found I had trouble keeping my composure when doing so.  The first man I approached, I shook his hand and told him “Thank you for helping to secure my freedoms” through stifled tears.

In this day when I begin to feel my freedoms slipping through thoughtless, inactive, and trusting hands, I have become more acutely aware of the beauty of those freedoms to which I have so long become accustomed.  Someone didn’t sit on the sidelines.  Someone paid for that.  Someone wasn’t thoughtless, inactive, selfish or trusting.  This wasn’t free.

As I shook their hands and found myself overwhelmed with thanksgiving that they had done more, I flashed forward to a time yet future when I might have the opportunity to repeat the words of thanks.

These elderly men still saluting their comrades enabled me freedoms I’m so calloused to that I let them slip away without noticing their being stolen.  They fought so that I could live here with this ease and opportunity.  They helped supply the freedoms of this life.  And my sense of gratitude in that moment completely overwhelmed me.

There is One whose efforts secured for me far greater freedoms than they.

What will I do when the moment comes to shake His hand and express my thanks?

This life isn’t free.  Eternity isn’t free.  Relationships aren’t free.  Forgiveness isn’t free.   Freedom isn’t free.  Someone paid for this.

So often I neglect to notice the value of that which has been purchased for me on this earth.  Regrettably, so often I neglect to notice the value of that which has been purchased for me for eternity.

Where might I be without the sacrifice of others?  What ‘necessities’ might I be enduring life without?  What hope might I cling to then?

Thank a vet.  Then fall on your knees before God and practice the moment when we might thank a Savior just as personally.

Often we, like Moses, stand before a task of greatness and feel as though there must be someone more suited to the task than we ourselves.  We must be the most unlikely to do the job sufficiently, to be called to such greatness.  What began for Moses with a lisp and many doubts progressed with such clarity and correctness; he was clearly the man for the job.

Moses happens to be my favorite biblical character.  Knowing so much as we do about him and his life and ministry, I find it so easy to see why God would have called him to the life and purposes that He did.  But that’s not the way Moses saw it.  He saw himself as unlikely.  As clear as the bush aflame before him, he knew what he was being called to do, but even so he doubted that the calling was properly placed.  It is only in hindsight and from an outward perspective that the calling seems so well suited.

Today we lack creativity and we have an overabundance of good old common sense.  The combination has stifled the blaze of many a burning bush.  We feel a stirring over a ministry need, the Lord is brewing something.  It could be the beginnings of the miraculous, the calling to great things.  But.  But we lack the ability to dream in God-sized paint strokes.  But we aren’t the ‘right’ one for such a task as this, this one needs a decorator or an administrator or an accountant or just someone who has more time on their hands.  And we take the water bottle and we coat the flames of calling, gather our sheep, and move to the next hillside.

Moses was a murderous shepherd, David was an adultering little brother, the first witnesses were untrustworthy women, Christ’s mortician was from the enemy camp, His right hand man was an uneducated hot head.  They were all unlikely and yet so perfectly suited to the tasks before them.  Do you think they saw it that way?  Do you think that a single one of them looked at the life to which they were being called and said, “I totally get that!  I’m perfect for this job, I know just how to get started!” They felt ill-equipped and unlikely, they surely felt too small for the task and certain they must have heard things wrong.  The reality is that God probably wouldn’t have called them to it if they were sure from the outset that they could get it done.  There would be no need for them to depend on Him if they could carry the load alone.

He’s looking for the unlikely.  He’s used them all along.  Yesterday, today, and forever.

From history long past, God has, in His infinite, sovereign, and mysterious wisdom, partnered with mankind to bring about His will.  While He could, doubtless, do all things Himself without even having to stand, He chooses to use us, to intervene in the lives of men through the vehicles of men themselves; God-sized works through man-sized receptacles.  What man could possibly be big enough to house that load?  What mere human could ever feel up to the challenge of carrying a God-sized burden?  None.  None ever did and you will not be the first.

Take courage, He’s done this before.  You aren’t a test case.  You are a proven plan.  While the vessel hasn’t carried such precious cargo before, the manufacturer has filled many of these in His time– with beautiful results.  The world awaits the cargo you bear, they need the miracle that you are called to deliver.  You don’t have to be the one to create the thing, you just have to be willing to take it where it needs to go.

Take courage.  Though you may feel the most unlikely of candidates for the job to which you have been called, He knows what He’s doing and, if He chose you for it, you’re the perfect person for the job.

So put down the water bottle, look for the blaze of fire, concede to your own unlikeliness, and let Him do something grand.

(I apologize for my absence of late.  Satan is crafty with electronics and he’s nastily wiped out mine.  My husband’s computer will surely be his next target as it’s the last resort at which I now type.)

The Lord delights in those who fear Him, who put their hope in His unfailing love.                                                     Psalm 147:11

Remember those old, yucky, long-dead flowers a few months ago? (See The Gardener’s Way) I pruned with fear and prayed I wasn’t killing them. I realized that it was God’s way to cut out the old and useless, pruning away that which was no longer of value.

From the death that was put away came this awe striking beauty of my flower beds.

The day I pruned them, they grew. They became stronger and more healthy. The pruning itself had value and added value. Today we see the second phase of the pruning, the new life that is possible because it was done.

There is mercy and then there is grace.

You see, mercy is taking the old, dead, and ugly away. Grace is having the breathtaking replace it.

He takes away the sorrow AND replaces it with joy. He ends the tears AND ushers in the dancing.

To get to the breathtaking part, we must first be willing to lay down the ugly, we have to concede to its being pruned, lifted, cut out, and burned. The sick truth is that sin and Satan and this world have so jaded our vision that we look upon the hideous and somehow believe that nothing could be more beautiful. Why would we trade this lovely disaster for a promise of some other show of greatness? Because our eyes are broken, we accepted the blinders, and true beauty is beyond our comprehension. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t real and that it isn’t all true.

So often we look at the trash heaps of our lives and refuse to lay them down because we find them too valuable–or just too familiar–to possibly have a worthy replacement. We can’t imagine any greater reality (or maybe we can’t believe we could be deserving of it).

There is something infinitely more amazing available. But you can’t get there if you’re weighted down with yesterday’s garbage.

There are tell-tale signs of the greatness beyond; that hint that something is broken, that taste of death and incompleteness, that faint breath of the life aching to be fed.

Mercy says you are no longer a creature of brokenness and depravity. Grace says you are a masterpiece of delights.

Back to the flowers. My garden was a mess of death and need. Now I have a garden of delights. I pruned and the earth shot forth something new and healthy and all together lovely on its cleaned slate.

Look back at those flowers. Beautiful, huh?

It’s you. When God walks through His garden of delights–which He has a history of liking to do–His favorite spot of earth is right in front of a blossoming you.

Thank God for the mercy and flourish in the grace.

I offer myself as a mound of putty into the Great Master’s hands
In hopes that He might make of me His grand design.
As He picks up the lump which is me, I say from the mass,
“Watch out for the shards of glass.”
I thought they might keep me safe or enhance the beauty of His work.
I thought they might contribute in some way to the overall appeal, beauty, and passion of the finished piece.
So, do what you will with this putty in waiting, but you might beware of the glass.

How terribly often I pray for His will and wince as His hands go to form it.

I want more, Lord.  I don’t want a steak snack with a side of reluctant milk, I want the mammoth 40 ounce monster that people get their pictures on wood paneled walls for having knocked back.  There are these snapshots of fantastical dreams that play over the corners of my mind, seen almost as the color blind or the legally blind, traces of what’s there without really knowing much at all about what it is that is in front of me.  There are promises etched on my spirit.  

And life has crinkled the edges and splattered doubt and hurt over their surfaces.

I have relegated You to ‘Him who could start a fire in a bush if it were dry enough and He had matches,’ when the name You possess is so far greater:  Him who dwelt in the burning bush.  (Deuteronomy 33:16)

You planned greatness.  When long ago, before time was measured or planets swirled, you made me, you planned great fullness and fruit. You planned victories and growth, you planned work and emotion, you planned stories and influence, you planned a ministry-for my good and your glory.  Life and sin and Satan and sorrows put dents in the plan.  And at some points along the way, I have doubted that the plan would still fly.  

But thanks be to my great God, your plans don’t exist in our crumbling masses of flesh and heartbreak.  They exist in an eternity of grace and calling and love, hope, and opportunity.  They exist because your promises are lasting and true.  They exist because there once was a time when you wrote my name on the palm of your hand and spoke life into my soul.  They exist because by design and by purchase, you claimed the right to have your way.  

So life then is yours to make beautiful.

If I will but hand over the bumps and bruises, if I will but entrust this mass of flesh and sorrow into Your capable hands of love and grace, you will make me beautiful.  You will redeem that which life has worn out of me.  You will regrow that which I have allowed to die.  You will put onto course that which has been left abandoned by the wayside.  

Give me faith to dip my toes in the waters, Lord.  Give me the heart to dream that the God who parted the seas is the same God who sits perched, waiting, hoping that today is the day I take Him at His Word.  Let me encounter a lifetime of that which is not possible.  Let me walk in boldness right into the midst of all that simply can’t be done.  Teach me how to do that, Lord.  

Make me willing putty in the hands of Him who desires to mold me into greatness for His glory.

Well I’ve been gone awhile.  Good to go off and see the world, great to come home again.

The cloud of thoughts that hover over the tired surface of my brain are a mix of wonder and awe, sadness and confusion, longing and praise.  I have beheld immaculate beauty recently.  I have walked streets teeming with lostness.  I have seen religion doing it’s sad little victory dance.  I have seen hope overflowing the borders of despair.  And these were not mission trips!  God is good and present and working every where we go and for whatever reason we might find for going there.

I’m sure that my thoughts will find focus on certain particulars over the coming days and weeks, but today I’m at a crossroad.  While I was traveling, I read two books:  Miracles by Eric Metaxas and The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson.  The two weren’t planned to go together–not by myself anyway.  I believe they were very much in God’s plan though.  

And now two truths for the last few weeks of my life:  Our God has made one heck of a glorious planet here! And there are depths of lostness so old and so deep and so profound they steal hope and make one wonder, “Is my God big enough to beat THAT?”

If you haven’t traveled much, you should.  This country and this world are amazing testaments to the grandeur and creativity of the God we call Father and Friend.  The diversity and the vastness, the color and vibrance, the grace and awe are overwhelming and mystifying.  Go see the Grand Canyon, go take a look at the sulfur springs in Yellowstone.  Find a tree ladder somewhere in the tropics and see what the world looks like from the sky. Walk down brick streets in an ancient city.  Look down on the Caribbean from an airplane.  Stand on a mountain somewhere and behold the view.  Dip your feet in an ocean of wonder and delight.  Let your eyes be intoxicated by the colors of nature, flowers, trees in bloom, birds and animals.  Find a monkey in a jungle somewhere and watch in giddy rapture.  

If God can do all that with the mere Word of His lips, what might He do with you?

Yet life is this blessed tension of optimism and despair.  For the wonder of an emotional high, there is an equal and opposite oppression of defeat.  I believe there is a scientific Law about that.  

There is one city that haunts me.  I’m sure I’ll write about it in depth soon enough.  It is beautiful and OLD and steeped in history and tradition and built up in every way around an ancient church.  And so very very misguided.  Religion is more than strong there.  But Christ is conspicuously absent.  

After literally thousands of years of building Law around Love, can God win back the city?  Is my God big enough for THAT?

For some, we do things for so long, our parents did things for so long, our culture has done things for so long, we think we must be getting it super right by now because we’ve been perfecting it for years, right?  It seemed to work for the last generation, and we’re even more staunch than they.  We ‘tradition’ and we ‘serve’ and we ‘follow’ and we ‘work’ so blooming hard, it has to be enough, doesn’t it?

One of the things that breaks me down faster and more completely than anything else is seeing people work themselves to the bone for something they needn’t have worked for at all.  

Grace is free.  And the minute you start thinking you might have done enough to have earned it is the minute one ought to know for sure how terribly terribly far you have to go.  

How sad and despairing to see whole cultures put their stock in that which will not and does not deliver.  It’s just not how He meant for ‘religion’ to go.  At some point it is supposed to become painstakingly obvious that no amount of work will get us there.  But what for the ones who never see that?  What for those who have no hope for something greater?  What for those whose hearts have lost their visionary gene?  For those whose hearts have been altered so as to no longer dream?

Is my God big enough to fix all that?

Can He win back that which has so long been lost?

Can He make that distorted wreck of deceit into the beauty of the sunset dropping into the Haitian shoreline? Can my God do that?

Lord, make us dreamers.  Let us not live in contented slumber sadly believing that the realities of today are the heights of the greatness you offer us.  May we live in the knowledge that eternity has already begun and Heaven is not merely a permanent residence awaiting us, but a reality begging our attention and notice presently.  

Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.                     Ephesians 5:14

Mold us into believers who take you at your Word and stand firm in exultant anticipation of the fulfillment of your Promises.  Make us bold in our prayers and firm in our faith.  Make us miracle recipients and hope-filled servants.  Make us full.  Make us relentless and powerful, consumed by the Power of a God who is ABLE.  I don’t want to hedge my bets or play it safe.  I want to live in the fullness of one who is utterly and gloriously available.  

May we, every day, find ourselves faced with situations, people, and obstacles that beckon the question, “Is my God big enough for that?” and may we, every day, stand firm in our knowledge and belief in the resounding “YES!” that He has promised.  (2 Corinthians 1:20)

We all know not to follow the crowd, but aim to be different.  Unique is good.  Peer pressure is the devil.  We know.  But are there not exceptions?

Then Satan entered Judas, called Iscariot, one of the Twelve.  And Judas went to the chief priests and the officers of the temple guard and discussed with them how he might betray Jesus.  They were delighted and agreed to give him money.  He consented, and watched for an opportunity to hand Jesus over to them when no crowd was present.                                    Luke 22:3-6

I have often wondered, just as did Jesus Himself, why it all had to go down as it did, why did they have to sneak out in the night to arrest Him.  Jesus even asked them, “Wasn’t I teaching in the Temple every day and yet you come out to arrest me with armed guards in the dark of night?”  His executioners knew where to find Him every day, why did they need a betrayer, why was Judas worth paying?  They stood before Him at the Temple every day that week and yet needed to find Him at night.  Why make it so difficult?

There is a lesson in the answers.  It’s actually there twice in this one little passage.

It has everything to do with the crowd.

The chief priests couldn’t seize Him during the day because of the crowd.  The crowd loved and adored Him and kept Him safe by day.  It was only at night, in the dark, in solitude with His chosen few that He was vulnerable.  There was a problem there though, it was dark.  There were no street lights spaced throughout the Garden, there was no residence to sneak in the back door of.  It wasn’t easy to find Him without an His enormous entourage and it wasn’t easy to find Him without the sunlight!

The people were the level head.  The second that the priests and officers escaped the eye of the grounded and loving crowd, they sank into the depths of their own insipid desires.

Then there’s Judas.  Judas too had a crowd to keep him grounded.  As long as he stayed with the Twelve, he was safe from the voices that called him wayward. There was safety in numbers, but alone, he was defenseless, vulnerable to attack.

Most crowds these days probably don’t keep us in check.  Most may not be beneficial for our ‘keeping the faith.’  There’s a good chance that most crowds today will contribute to our downfall rather than our upholding.  But not every crowd is ‘most.’

When we feel we must step away from believers before we answer the call or carry out the habit or conversation or action or vent the angst, anger, or grief, then we may be walking away from the one crowd that could keep us from being vulnerable to attack.  That crowd may keep us grounded.  That crowd may be there to keep us safe.

What if Judas had refused to leave the table that night?  He and Jesus both knew what he had in mind.  What if he refused to go it alone, refused to step away from those who helped to hold him up, what if he didn’t leave the faithful crowd for the darkness outside?

The plan would have still happened, it was necessary.  But he might have been able to rewrite his lines.

Perhaps there would be no cemetery at Potter’s Field.

Chose your crowd wisely.  Find strength in numbers.  Don’t walk life alone.

Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.                   Ecclesiastes 4:12

The whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen:  “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”                                                                     Luke 19:37-38

But with loud shouts they insistently demanded that he be crucified, and their shouts prevailed.                                                               Luke 23:23

Same crowd.  Perhaps even some of the exact same fickle souls played party to both crowds, lifted their ‘loud voices’ in both sets of cries.  How on earth could this happen?  How could just a few days change so very much?

There are some days in our own lives that change everything.  A loved one dies, a dream dies, a child arrives, a debt is relieved, a job is lost, some things alter the course of our lives instantly for the better or worse.  This crowd didn’t necessarily experience any of that.  They didn’t necessarily experience a crisis of faith a midst a struggle in life.  They were just plain fickle.

And yet Luke called them disciples.

And they appeared, by all that we see, to have recognized this Man as King of Kings.  They praised the Lord.  They laid down their coats in submission.  They knew not just with their heads, but with their hearts that this Man was someone more.  And they acted on it.

What were they missing, where is the flaw, because the praise died and the death cries rose and the tide turned and the people fell away so far and so fast.  What went wrong?

Again, Luke hides gems.  I don’t know the motivations of mens’ hearts and I don’t know why history has played out in this way, but I think Luke felt he had some idea of why this crowd was so quick to turn.

The whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen…

Did you see it?  Their praises looked right and genuine and well founded and secure and informed, but where did their motivations lie? In the miracles.

Between the two previous verses, 19:38 and 23:23, Luke records not one single miracle.  Yet he twice points out that Jesus taught daily in the temple (19:47 and 21:37).  When the miracles took a back seat to the serious study of His Word, when the emphasis fell away from what can He do for me and toward what might I do for Him, the tide began to turn.  The people’s actions revealed the truth that lay deep in their hearts:  they didn’t love Him, they loved what He did for them.

I’ve so often wondered how, in just one tragic week, such inexplicable and drastic swings could happen among such a chosen and treasured people.  The ultimate answer is that it was the plan.  It had to be.  For my own eternal standing, praise God it was the plan.  But men’s hearts, lives, emotions… I’m lost to see how they could fall so tragically and so lightening fast.  From publicly professed devotion to cries of execution, that is a fierce jump.  And to make both shouts with such vigor as to be repeatedly professed as “loud shouts,” they cried for both with conviction.

When the miracles stop, when it becomes harder to see what’s in it for you, that’s when the heart reveals all that is within.  When you are left with nothing more under the tree, no gift waiting to be opened, does your heart still soar as others continue to unwrap their treasures?  When there is only the giving to be done, when you feel as though there’s nothing left for you, it is then that you see what rests within you.  And for so many called disciples that week, they found selfishness rested below the surface.

This nasty test has been known to reveal all manner of latent evil.  When you lose all your possessions, do you, like Job, praise the Lord who gives and takes away? When you receive great and public praise, does your heart relish the attention with an inward pride?  When great reward finds it’s way into your coffers, do you rationalize how very well deserved it really is?  When tragedy strikes, what dormant sin arises?  When glory shines, what sleeping transgression awakes?

I’ve been staring down this parable for days.  Read it yourself and let’s wallow in the reaches of it: Luke 19:11-27.

(Really, take a minute and read it)

Dum,da,dum,da dum…let me know when you’re done.

You see what I mean!  Luke tells stories we’ve heard from others, but with his own little spin, his own nuances that make you read it a second time and think, “You sneaky fella, you sure packed a lot into one little story.”

Let’s start at the beginning.  Jesus is headed into Jerusalem and apparently everyone expects Him to somehow take a throne there and rule them in power–as evidenced by His “triumphal entry.”  So He tells them this story to help them to realize it isn’t time for that yet.  He has to go away and return and this is how they are to spend that interim time.  And thus He tells the story.

A man of noble birth went to a distant country to have himself appointed king and then to return.

He is not among us, but He is King and He is coming back.

“Put this money to work,” he said, “until I come back.”

He was quite clear they were not to sit and await His return idly, they had work to do.

And then this part really gets me:

“We don’t want this man to be our king.” He was made king, however…

His being King doesn’t have a thing in the world to do with whether or not I or you or anyone else wants Him to be.  He just IS.  For goodness sakes, He is known as the I AM.  And He is when I feel like it and when I don’t.  He is whether I acknowledge it, defame it, embrace it, deny it, or ignore it.  He is for the saint and for the sinner.  He is for the nun and for the atheist.  He is for Billy Graham and He was for Charles Darwin.  He is for Barack Obama and He was for Charles Manson.  He is not because of what we believe, but because of who He is.

He is King and I am not and the less I fight Him for the position, the sooner I can get to the heart of this earthly living business.

This Master doles out His gifts as He will and goes on to His distant country. When He returns, He calls His servants to account: What have you done with what you’ve been given?

Some worked quite diligently.  Others not so much.  But here is the truth that overwhelms me: the last servant didn’t do anything wrong.  He just didn’t do anything right.

He didn’t refuse to give back the mina.  He didn’t steal it or gamble it away or use it for personal gain.  He did nothing bad.  He just didn’t do anything good.  He gave back what was given him, an even trade.  And that was not what his Master had in mind.

When Christ returns, He’s gonna ask me how I GREW what He invested in me.  If I look and live and talk and serve and study and worship the same today as I did last month or last year, then I’m not growing anything!  I don’t want that kind of tongue lashing!  I’m not interested in seeing the tough side of this love!

And that’s the final mine where I’ve found myself rolling around these last few days.  The Master gave to him who was blessed, more blessings.  And from he who had nothing, He took all there was.

“Sir,” they said, “he already has ten!”

People didn’t like that much.  I often don’t like that much.

It is the King’s right to dispense of His belongings as He sees fit.  And sometimes I’m not going to like how things shake out. The King is free to give and take rewards and hardships, lessons and blessings, talents and troubles, in whatever way He might chose.

And there will be times when I and others don’t think it’s quite fair.

Finally, the same Master who piles blessings onto one man, powerfully strikes fear into another.  I serve a great and mighty God who is rightfully Ruler of my life and powerfully King of this planet.

He’s given me a work to do and I don’t like the idea of having to look into His face and not see the kind eyes of a Savior Friend who took my place.  I’ve no interest in presenting myself on my own merit.  I know how very far that would fall from sufficient.  And the wrath due me is too much for me to bear.

Our King awaits!  There’s work to do, because to those who beg it on and to those who deny it’s coming, the King will return!

I visited a cathedral in a prominent European country not long ago.  It was breathtaking.  I received something of a ‘gift’ there, a disposable skirt.  You see, they believe in modesty and were prepared to enforce modesty on those who visit their church.

I don’t disagree with the practice.  I think that the unrelenting display of flesh that parades through our churches and streets today is both sinful of itself and a stumbling block to others.  Thinking on it now, it would be a fantastic idea within our churches!  Every woman who walks through the door gets a dress that covers up all the things she is so quick to display.  Out go the wrong motivations for coming and dressing, out go the ad nauseum bouncing of the eyes.  Out go the competitive one-upping in fashion and fitness.  The idea does have it’s benefits.

But then there’s the draw back.  It leads one to believe that it is acceptable to be one thing within the walls of a particular building and something altogether different without it.

It’s a sad reality that propriety and modesty need to be policed wherever they might.  But it is dangerous to let the policing be the solution rather than a turning of hearts to lives that no longer require such mandates.  Simply put, our aim should be to live lives everywhere as though they were being lived in the very Throne Room of our Father (because they are certainly visible there!)

The skirt that I was given displays my point tragically well.  I received a disposable skirt, like what you get in the hospital only missing the top part.  You were given one at the door if your legs were uncovered and were encouraged to drop it in a bin by the exit as you left.

Our desire to live lives of holiness simply isn’t something that can be dropped at the door.  Our relationships with the God who made us, the Creator who sustains us, the Savior who bought us, the Spirit who empowers us, it isn’t something that can be put on in one room and cast aside upon entering the next.  Religion can be put on and taken off.  A relationship cannot.

That beautiful cathedral was impressive.  It was gold and elaborate and pristine and expensive and clean and orderly.  Then there was the bin and the open doors. Outside was sunshine and life and babies crying and litter.

Praise the Lord my life is somewhere in the space between the perfect quiet of a cathedral and the chaotic whirl of a city street.  Some moments I find rest in the quiet and some moments I can only hang on through the tumble of regiments and responsibilities.

My life with this Man is not meant to be taken up and put down depending on which one I find myself in today.

Let us rejoice and be glad and give Him glory!  For the wedding has come, and His bride has made herself ready.  Fine linen, bright and clean, was given her to wear.                                                                                                   Revelation 19:7-8

I’m not meant to don a hastily tied throw-away.  I’ve been given something not only beautiful–like the most elaborately ornamented wedding gown of all time– but it’s eternal.  It’s not a one-use-only disposable skirt, it’s a once in a lifetime treasure.

You’ve likely heard of the idea of your heart as a house with many doors.  True surrender, total acceptance of the life to which your God calls you, is a house full of open doors.  For most of us, however, there are a few rooms still kept behind not only closed, but locked doors.

Are there rooms into which you walk only after having dropped your disposable skirt?  You might want to keep in mind that it was given to you ‘bright and clean’ and is meant to last forever.

The attire to which we are called and equipped, the lives that we are both intended and demanded to live, they are not disposable.  They cannot be cast aside as one strolls back out into the sunshine of a ignorantly, blissful life devoid of purpose, conviction, and calling.  There are no bins.  There are no areas into which our Almighty might call us that would require that we dispose of our relationship, our eternal attire in order to enter.

We have been clothed in beauty, eternal and flawless.  And there is no need to ever change your clothes.  This dress is not disposable.  It’s meant to last.  And it’s perfect for every occasion.