Skip to main content

Unashamedly bragging



I've been thinking a lot about today. Today, 2000 years ago. The entire center and source of all things, all the purposes of time and history and existence culminating in one Man's abused and slaughtered body hanging on a Roman cross. There is no god like mine!

All the religions of the world acknowledge that there's something wrong with us humans.  And they all give their prescription for making us better, which like Propaganda said is like spraying perfume on a corpse and pretending it doesn't still stink.  But for all the religions and the good ideas man has come up with for how we can be pleasing to God or just be better people, none of them propose what my God has done in Christ.

So maybe you scrap religion altogether.  It's a crutch that weak man needs, but you're too intelligent for that.  God, if he (or she) exists is just a nice concept to help us be better people.  Ignoring problems never solves them.  If we're all just godless products of chance and time why do we even care?  But I digress, that's another blog post.

There's no answer like the answer found in Christ.

The perfect One, swallowing up the sure judgement coming against me because I'm not right.  I'm made to image God, but I don't, and He has a right to scrap His creation turned against Him.  But He doesn't.  Instead, He stands in my place.  Stands between me and the place of my sure judgement.

Only my God redeems.  Only my God does not count my wrongs against me and promises me a new heart.  Only my God is working to conform me to the image of His Son.  Only my God came, not to be served, but to serve and give His life as a ransom for many.  Only my God became a man and knows what its like to bear the weight of my fallenness.  Only my God bends down to lift me up.  Only my God gives not just a way for me to live right, but the power to live that way by His very life living in me.

There is no god like mine!


What love is this.  
To send His own.  
To die for sin.  
And take us home.  
Got me feelin' good.  
Forget my feelin's.  
When you heard a story bout the hero dying for the villain?

- Trip Lee 

So we are Christ's ambassadors; God is making his appeal through us. We speak for Christ when we plead, "Come back to God!" For God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ. - 2 Corinthians 5:20-21

 Quieted,
Sheila

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

eyes on the Author- the every morning struggle to walk by faith

I don't wake up full of vision and motivation.  Actually, what motivates me most is the idea that my french press and single-origin coffee from Guatemala are just minutes away from awaking my senses with it's warm, toasty aroma.  And on those days when I get my stiff, puffy-eyed body out of bed and make my way to the cabinet to prep the press with my favorite coffee and find we're out, I feel great motivation to get dressed and drive to the local store so I can hurry up and get back home before too much time has passed and get my coffee going.

Basically, coffee motivates me to get up in the morning.

Mixed in the grogginess between eyes open and that first cup of coffee I remember who I am.

I am not my own.  I am a Christian.  The weight of meaning in that word falls on me like gravity on the fledgling attempts of a young eagle to fly every morning.

I feel myself falling.  Falling. Squawking out a cry, "Help!  Help Lord!  I am yours. Let me hear your loving kindness…

An Unlikely 23 Years

Wedding Day- Sept.4, 1993
Connor's birthday- April 1, 2003
During our first separation and pregnancy with Ryland- November 2004
Seeking a new start in Arizona all together- October 2005
 Second separation March 2010
Still together on a desert trail- Spring 2015
Today has been a tough day, emotionally.

Twenty three years ago today I made a vow before God and about 100 family and friends to take James as my husband, to have and to hold from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death do us part.

Those are some serious promises.  Better, worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health have all been part of these 23 years.  Honestly, most of it has been hard.  We weren't a very likely match at 19 and 21.  He from the big city, me from a small town.  His dad a pharmacist, mine a log truck driver.  We met in a child development class, taking pre-reqs for nursing.  He hated it.  I loved it.  He had long hair and torn jeans and l…

Burned chicken, my story and Israel

It's been an interesting day.



 I'm sitting here trying to get a hold on how I nearly burned down the covered patio by barbecuing bone-in chicken breasts while I planned and prepped other things in the kitchen. I know time can get away from me sometimes, but I tell ya I was in here for 30 minutes and I set the burners on low!

I probably shouldn't post today's attempt at making something real on my new recipe blog. Or maybe I should. Keeping it real. Real, even if it is burned, leads to trust.

Like standing in front of a congregation of missed-the-mark makers like me (many of whom I don't know), telling my charred story, knowing it'll be recorded, knowing my family will be listening. It's a burnt offering, my homologeo. A sum of all that I can put in appropriate words at this time offered up to the Refiner's fire who's been keeping me real through it all.

A very dear person to me asked why Jews and Christians don't agree about Jesus recently.…