This last year, my mind has been stretched, my spirit humbled and my fears relieved by the fact I didn't choose God, but he chose me. Such a basic tenet of the gospel I forgot and my emphasis was I chose and I respond. That is a recipe for burnout and self-doubt. We do nothing in our salvation. A dead man can not raise himself. An inanimate branch can not choose to be grafted into the living root. A sheep can not choose his shepherd. A priest can not be self-appointed. A baby can not choose to be born nor can a man enter his mother's womb for a second time. A lump of clay can not make itself into a pot. A unregenerate stone heart can not soften itself into a heart of flesh.
It is an impossible impossibility.
Therefore, it takes my human effort out of the whole story and in comes Jesus. Meet the man who raises the dead.
In comes our Root that sustains and nurtures the branches. (John 15:5)
In comes our Good Shepherd who goes after the lost sheep and tucks it next to his chest in safety. (John 10:14,15 and Psalm 100:3)
In comes our High Priest who has made us to be a kingdom of priests. (Revelation 1:9)
In comes our Creator who knit us together and grants us birth and second birth. (John 3:3,4)
In comes our Potter who shapes us how he sees fit and delights in our various uses. (Isaiah 45:9, Jeremiah 18:5,6 and Romans 9:20,21)
In comes our Surgeon who removes the useless, pulse-less heart and gives us a heart which beats in time with his. (Ezekiel 36:26)
I am so glad I am a dead woman walking, because now I can also be a dead woman testifying. Like in Ezekiel 37, God's breath has blown life into my dry withered bones. Because of what he did I know He is Lord. May his Spirit continue to raise up a walking graveyard.
9 hours ago