Being
"For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen." Romans 11: 36
"I don't need you." The gentle conviction sounded in my heart. I held out my hands in front of me as I sat on the roof outside my bedroom window. Thunder sounded from the east and droplets of rain began to fall from the grey sky. It kind of hurt to hear those words echo through my head:
"I don't need you." But Lord, how does that work? How can I serve you without feeling needed?
The thunder boomed again in the distance. I realized how tired I was. I realized that my service, to the Lord through people, must be skewed by some other human desire for acceptance. Since I was young, I knew I wanted to serve the Kingdom by listening and talking to people about Him in a vulnerable, authentic way. My service and desire remains the same, but somewhere along the line, encouraging people began to become an identity. Instead of letting Him give me His direct flow of LIFE, I began to seek life from that indirect source.
It has all been done in good faith, with prayer and seeking, but the identity lies more in what I can do, than who I am--who He says that I am.
He says that I am beloved, cherished, loved, worthy, holy--complete.
Complete. He is complete apart from me, and I am complete in Him. He reaches for me and calls me because He wants me, not because there is any need--whatsoever--involved. When I chose Him at the very beginning, I became the vessel of surrendered glory that every human being has been created to be. I am a vessel--that's it: a vessel that receives glory and hope that spills over naturally.
Sadly, amidst the beauty and joy of spilling over, I begin to reach outward more than upward, and the work changes. It becomes more laborsome to meet needs when I forget to ask the Father how He sees His children--the very people I am serving. In all the excitement of working for the Kingdom, I forget to return to the castle to continue letting His Spirit fill me. To be honest, "returning to the castle" also means returning to humility: remembering who He is and who I am not. In the euphoria of being filled with glory, I forget that the oil doesn't belong to me--it's a gift that must continually be surrendered back to the Giver.
It's His joy to give and reveal Himself to me and use me to further His Kingdom, but He truly doesn't need me. A perfect, complete God doesn't need an empty clay pot! But He wants one--all of them, in order that His glory may be manifested on earth as it is in Heaven.
I sat there on the roof, rain falling more steadily, and I asked myself what would happen if I let myself be. What would happen if I let myself cease the pursuit of doing and robed myself with the art of being. Being because I am a beloved daughter of the King of Kings, and He wants me. Being because I am complete, lacking in nothing; therefore, there is nothing to be added to who I am that will make me more effective or worthy or valuable to Him. Being because He delights in me reaching upward to pour outward.
Let our service be a song, not a weary cry of lost identity.
"I don't need you." The gentle conviction sounded in my heart. I held out my hands in front of me as I sat on the roof outside my bedroom window. Thunder sounded from the east and droplets of rain began to fall from the grey sky. It kind of hurt to hear those words echo through my head:
"I don't need you." But Lord, how does that work? How can I serve you without feeling needed?
The thunder boomed again in the distance. I realized how tired I was. I realized that my service, to the Lord through people, must be skewed by some other human desire for acceptance. Since I was young, I knew I wanted to serve the Kingdom by listening and talking to people about Him in a vulnerable, authentic way. My service and desire remains the same, but somewhere along the line, encouraging people began to become an identity. Instead of letting Him give me His direct flow of LIFE, I began to seek life from that indirect source.
It has all been done in good faith, with prayer and seeking, but the identity lies more in what I can do, than who I am--who He says that I am.
He says that I am beloved, cherished, loved, worthy, holy--complete.
Complete. He is complete apart from me, and I am complete in Him. He reaches for me and calls me because He wants me, not because there is any need--whatsoever--involved. When I chose Him at the very beginning, I became the vessel of surrendered glory that every human being has been created to be. I am a vessel--that's it: a vessel that receives glory and hope that spills over naturally.
Sadly, amidst the beauty and joy of spilling over, I begin to reach outward more than upward, and the work changes. It becomes more laborsome to meet needs when I forget to ask the Father how He sees His children--the very people I am serving. In all the excitement of working for the Kingdom, I forget to return to the castle to continue letting His Spirit fill me. To be honest, "returning to the castle" also means returning to humility: remembering who He is and who I am not. In the euphoria of being filled with glory, I forget that the oil doesn't belong to me--it's a gift that must continually be surrendered back to the Giver.
It's His joy to give and reveal Himself to me and use me to further His Kingdom, but He truly doesn't need me. A perfect, complete God doesn't need an empty clay pot! But He wants one--all of them, in order that His glory may be manifested on earth as it is in Heaven.
I sat there on the roof, rain falling more steadily, and I asked myself what would happen if I let myself be. What would happen if I let myself cease the pursuit of doing and robed myself with the art of being. Being because I am a beloved daughter of the King of Kings, and He wants me. Being because I am complete, lacking in nothing; therefore, there is nothing to be added to who I am that will make me more effective or worthy or valuable to Him. Being because He delights in me reaching upward to pour outward.
Let our service be a song, not a weary cry of lost identity.
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