Blood Bath

I believe I was further initiated into domesticity/womanhood this morning.

 

I had to bleach blood out of my refrigerator, and it was disgusting. I mean all-encompassing gross- the look, smell, feel as some if it got on my hand. I couldn't stand it; truthfully, I wanted to vomit. And I do not usually get queasy at blood- I'm diabetic, so I see it on a regular basis. I don't freak out when people are injured (only if I watch it happen!). Why, today, did the sight of this blood sicken me so?

And God brought the blood of Jesus to mind. My mind went crazy as some dots began to connect between sacrifices, the Temple, and the Cross. They were all drenched in blood, and I never realized what that meant. The Temple was not pristine, as artists and historians and Jews and Christians and scholars like to imagine; it was where sin was atoned. The altar was covered in sin and blood because both are gross and ugly. Blood stains; it becomes sticky as it dries; it smells like death.

And what is overwhelming is that horrifying ugliness flows through my body and physically sustains me. Such life giving ugliness should be kept in my body, hidden away, where its effect (my life) and not its disgusting nature is seen.

Then I see the Cross. Jesus the man needed His blood inside to sustain Him.

But He knew it needed to be exposed to cleanse me.

So the ugliness of the Cross is revealed. Blood was everywhere. From the wounds covering Jesus' body, dripping upon the ground to the stream of blood that undoubtedly led to where He was tortured. The Cross was no clean place. It probably smelled bad and became messy and sticky as the lifeblood of the Son of Man dried on and around it, staining all it touched.

The ugliness of my sin is conveyed in the ugliness of that blood, and it nauseates me. Yet God calls me to do the morbidly unthinkable: bathe in this blood, revel in it, let it dry on me, stain me, for by it I am cleansed. What I desire to keep hidden Jesus exposed for all to see and live. So smell it, cry in it, lie in it and glory at the Man it killed. I wish I could have sat at the feet of my sweet Jesus as He died and let His blood cover me, then maybe I could fully understand His sacrifice. But I am here, where I am, and I think I get it. I have bathed in the blood of Jesus, and I let Him cleanse me white as snow.

But the stains remain. The stains are still there, because I can never return to who I was after drenched in the blood of Messiah. The stains remind me that my blood does not have to spill for my sin; the stains remind me I have bathed in the blood of the One who already did that. May they never wash off.

 

"But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin."

1 John 1:7

Why Do We Sit?

This week has felt like the downside of crazy. I mean, I did not really have much going on, yet I felt like I did. My brain hurt, my body hurt, my soul and heart hurt- nothing felt right. I know it stemmed from leading eighth-grade girls at a D-Now (not healthy for such an extreme introvert, lemme tell ya!), but I enjoyed the whole ordeal. Yet I felt so... off. All week.

However, this is where my story (mostly) begins.

It actually began the week I was home for spring break at my home church. I love my home church; as a preacher's kid, the concept of 'home church' is transient at best, nonexistent at normalcy. But we've been at Jay Valley since the May I turned fourteen. It was from that church that I was commissioned to each mission trip I've been on, from which I left for college, that wrote me endless letters and emails when I was in Florida last summer, that prayed for me through those angsty teen years. That congregation is precious and it is mine.

But this specific Sunday I felt a little differently: I realized we sat. We (as a whole) did not sit because we had to or we felt compelled to by the Spirit. We sat because it was the hymn we were supposed to sit for. We sat because you always sit during the third hymn. And me, being the rebel I am (harhar) felt so compelled to stand. I was praising my Maker, His saints were singing how well things were  with our souls because He is God...

BUT WE SAT. And I am thoroughly convinced that a room full of true Redeemed will not all sit as they sing to our Savior about His overcoming the world (John 16:33)

So I didn't.
And let me tell you, it was horrifying. And I'm not saying this to say, "Look at me!" I'm writing this because I must confess my great sin in this act: I almost didn't obey. I almost didn't move to the posture the Spirit was moving me to because I knew people would see. I knew no one stood during the third hymn. And why should my worship make people uneasy or uncomfortable? In a room of Believers, I was ashamed to stand because it was too different.

**Have you heard the joke about the Baptist man who raised an arm in church? He only has one arm now.**



Let's fast forward to D-Now, and the focus is following Christ and how that really looks. This created so much unrest in me, but I quelled it in praise and "attuning my heart to the Lord." Let's fast forward to almost every conversation I've had this week, the AMAZING book by David Platt that I'm reading (it's called Follow Me), and the movie I just watched called Beware of Christians. Let's rewind to Wednesday night when my soul was so troubled that I questioned my salvation and panic-texted the associate BSM director to have an emergency meeting the next day to sort things.

Let's camp out at the fact that I've never once led a person to Christ. Let's camp out at the fact that I have made a friend this semester that's not a believer and while she knows I'm a Christian, I've not shared the Gospel with her. Let's camp out at I AM SITTING.

What God was trying to desperately tell me is that I have been doing it wrong; I have been sold to this idea of westernized Christianity that says our hearts can 'follow Jesus' but our lives don't necessarily have to. And that's not Biblical at all. Nowhere in the Bible to people become Christians and then sit in a pew the rest of their lives, complacent at a good sermon. Nowhere is believing in Jesus but not following Him even a thing.

These people did not sit. They stood. They went. They followed. And if we really believe Jesus did what we say we believe He did, wouldn't we stand, too? And not just at a song we like. Not just when it's comfortable- because if I was hard pressed to stand and worship in front of Believers, actually standing for something important must be that much more difficult- but all the time. Whenever. Whatever. However. If we think Jesus is really Messiah, why do we sit?

"In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, for I have overcome the world." John 16:33

To the Brim

I've been blessed to learn the meaning of reliance this semester. Nothing major or earth-shattering has happened; I am just learning, and it's beautiful. (I love learning, in case anyone doesn't know...) I can see God move and work in my heart as I grasp His will; I feel His Spirit lead me to love others as I haven't before; I have a desire to have relationships with my classmates, which is odd for my shy character. The Lord is showing me to trust Him for that boldness to make friends, for the ability to extend the love that naturally fills my heart. It is amazing and I cannot communicate how amazed and humbled I am to sit in the great, big mess that I am and know God is redeeming that mess for His Kingdom. Most of the time, in response, I feel so full of joy that I want to scream. Or sing. Or do cartwheels (which I can't even do. That's how joyful I am).

But some days it's really hard,even in the honeymoon learning phase. Some days I'm totally empty, and today was one of those days. In her book Kisses from Katie, Katie Davis writes, "People often ask me how I do it... it's a little coffee and a lot of Jesus." As a coffee fiend, I totally know how she feels. I often wake up too late to have a full-out Bible study time, so I'll typically pray while I drink my morning coffee. I love this time because my company is only Jesus... and my delicious coffee, which is absolutely proof that God wants me to enjoy life. I've not seen anyone else, I haven't gotten texts from anyone, I've not looked at social media. This time is only mine and Jesus' and it is glorious.

This morning, I woke up too late for that time. I tried to pray as I was getting ready for the day, but I find it hard to pray as my wildly curly hair won't behave. I find it hard to pray as I put on a little makeup. I find it hard to pray as I'm constantly checking the time on my phone to make sure I am not running late. I was not still. And the rest of my day was not still- I was late to my first class, so instead of getting to chat with my classmates I hurried through a quiz. This is a class full of non-Believers, and I love them dearly. Today I was so frustrated because I did not get to love them. I was frustrated because they don't like Jesus. It made me angry instead of breaking my heart. I was angry in my religious studies class when my professor not-so-subtly contested the Bible's historical (and thus complete) accuracy. I was frustrated when my history of science professor denounced the work done by a Christian scientist right after commending said scientist's work (this one was silly, but I was already angry anyway). I was frustrated when I ran into a friend of mine and wasn't interested in talking to her because I do love her. I was frustrated because nothing was clicking and I was trying SO HARD.

 Thankfully, I got to see my BSM friends at free lunch today. I go to make a new friend and we're baking cupcakes tomorrow. I got to hear a dear, sweet friend of mine talk about her heart for justice and God's glory. I had a piano song dedicated to me. I got to watch one of my small-group kids do some amazing yo-yo tricks. I got to help clean up after lunch. I was able to be still and before I knew it my joy overflowed.

And that had been my problem all along: not that I had not had coffee this morning, but that I had not been still before my Maker, the one who makes everything click, the one who enables me to love and talk and freely give of myself. I had not taken time to place my day before Him, so I had so little of His goodness in me to give. I was not filled because I did not take time to empty myself out. But when I was still before His saints He allowed be to be filled. He allowed the winter melt away- both outside and in my heart- and filled it to the brim with His goodness. My cup overflows.

I pray you take time to be still each day. I pray God brings joy to your heart that has to be shared. May you be filled to the brim with His goodness.


(Psalm 46:10- Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted in the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.)