Anew year commences, and with it comes the gift of a fresh start and a renewal of vows paid to the Lord in days and months and years past. Like a new dawn to a long night, a new beginning immerges, and something within me leaps with a new breath. Yes, it’s time to renew the sacred pledges, the holy chasings. This past year’s offering is one that I might not have chosen but am grateful for nonetheless. It is the gift of fresh awareness of my dependency, and more specifically, my spiritual dependency.  How dependent I am to keep this heart alive, to cause this heart to burn in deeper love. My weakness He has etched more deeply upon my soul this year – the rocky crags of my barren land. He’s caused my clinging to dig deeper into the Vine, desperate and dependent. I have seen how utterly and even bitterly weak I am – how I’ve nothing apart from Him. These are necessary knowings. For only in the clinging comes the fruit bearing and never by any other way.

I lift my eyes to the rising glimmer upon the horizon of this new year. Love must win again this year. 

 And so carrying this year’s gift as deep etchings upon my soul, grateful and humbled, I lift my eyes to the rising glimmer upon the horizon of this new year. Love must win again this year. And Expectation, wide-eyed as a child, rushes ahead of me with candid liveliness, her eyes searching for the One in whom all hope is anchored. With questions of, “Will He come again and answer me?” and, “Will He meet this weakness with His beautiful strength?” marking her trail, she dares to press. With lucid and piercing eyes, she immerges from the fog of yesteryear, compelling all behind her to follow her fixed gaze.

It’s time to believe. It’s time to arise. It’s time to be stirred in the deep of me and let raw longings for the Holy One lift their voices with strength. For He, as Expectation’s wide-eyes remind me, fiercely attends to His desire to bring me forth victorious, blameless in love, and filled with the fruits of bright righteousness (Eph. 1:4; Phil. 1:11). Forgetting what is behind, that which I am not fit to measure, I press forward (Phil. 3: 13; 1 Cor. 4:3). With fresh remembrance of my raw weakness engraved vividly upon my soul, I arise. With sweet consolation found in the remembrance of His rich abundance and extravagance, I begin the race and the holy chase of 2012.

From my book Entirety,“… In the midst of the Christmas season, let us meditate on the greatness of Jesus’ full-givenness in love for us…” We know and think of Jesus from our first sight of Him, a helpless Baby lain in a manger in an environment so primitive and crude. We recall the stories of His youth, how He taught in the synagogue and how He grew in wisdom and favor with God and man (Lk. 2:52). We know Him later in His ministry to the masses, His teachings and His healings, His words of profound authority and weight, His compassion and demonstrations of love unparalleled—ultimately culminating in a cross of utter self-giving, the supreme symbol of love, the image of the greatest offering ever given.

…unless we push back that curtain to the scenes before the shepherds and kings, we will not know the unutterable greatness and scandalous entrance of this One who gave Himself unto those who were once His enemies…

When we think of Jesus, we begin with these images and these conceptions, for this is how He first revealed Himself to us. Yet there is more to His story than the frail beginnings of Bethlehem, and unless we push back that curtain to the scenes before the shepherds and kings to that which preceded the angelic host on Bethlehem’s hillside, we will not know the unutterable greatness and scandalous entrance of this One who gave Himself unto those who were once His enemies—the One who laid down His life, His all, not just in part but in entirety. Jesus, the Living Word, was God from eternity, begotten before time, dwelling in the unapproachable light with the Father, inhabiting the everlasting ages before the world was made in all glory and majesty (Jn. 1:1-2). Perpetually worshipped by angels, He possessed all things from all eternity, and to any onlooker of the adoring heavenly hosts, there was no apparent reason for this to change.

Yet in the heart of God, from this love of the Holy Three, there was a plan of scandalous proportions rooted in outrageous love, and the crux of that plan involved the unthinkable departing of the Begotten Son from the shrouds of unapproachable light and the unimaginable emptying of Himself in the assumption of a human frame. It meant the unthinkable mystery that God the Creator would enter the world through the womb of a young maiden whom He Himself created, and ultimately, the shocking culmination of God hanging on a cross—the eternal statement of His endless hatred of sin and everlasting love of mankind.

The Baby that we find in the manger was the same One who was eternally the Possessor of All, the Author of Life, the uncreated One who was with God from everlasting (Mic. 5:2). He did not consider His eternal exaltation as something to be grasped and used for His own gain, but rather He chose in transcendent love to empty Himself of so great an exaltation, making Himself of no reputation and taking on the form of a bondservant (Phil. 2:6-7).

Out of the erupting love and desire of the Godhead, the Son left the covering of unapproachable light and the vastness of His heavenly riches, wrapping Himself in the profound obscurity of poor humanity and becoming to the natural eye nothing more than a newborn Jewish boy, and later a typical young man, son of a carpenter, from Nazareth. In these obscure, ordinary beginnings, the extraordinary occurred: God took on the plight of humanity, the weakness and frailty of our dilemma and forever assumed His identity as our Brother, making us bone of His bone and flesh of His flesh forever.

Trouble-free Christianity? No such thing in the mind of Jesus? Jesus tells us that each day has its fair share of trouble,  ”Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.“

But what “trouble” is in view here? In the immediate context of Jesus’ address, the subject matter at hand concerns being troubled (i.e. worry) over two categories of life. First, the basic necessities of life like food and clothing (Matt 6:31-32). Compared to the rest of the world, we in the West face less anxiety if we will eat today, but even this is changing as those living in poverty has reached an all time high in the US, especially children (see here).

The second category is trouble over treasures (Matt 6:19). What treasures? we think to ourselves. My mind naturally conjures up images of pirate chests of gold and large family inheritances of money and land. Yet, I have a sense that treasures simply speak of anything we value beyond basic necessities. In other words, those with treasures are not “those other rich people” but us.  Jesus was speaking to us, those with treasures, or things that have an objective value to us day to day. What are these treasures?  Things like our vehicle, phone, computer, garage door, water heater and more. These are things that are valuable to us, our treasures.

In the passage above, Jesus links worrying with our treasures. Well, for our family, this last week (month?) has been cause for much trouble over treasures. Yes, my above list is not merely an arbitrary laundry list, but “treasures” which have either broken partially or fully in recent days. As each day unfolded, a new treasure broke resulting worry over fixing or replacing that treasure.

Of course, it is not “bad” to want to fix our treasures. The danger comes when we are troubled more by broken treasures now than we are troubled by broken treasure in the age to come (kingdom of heaven).  Therefore Jesus warns us that every day will have trouble, both basic necessities and treasures.

In the midst of treasure trouble Jesus invites us to worry more about treasure in His kingdom. My tendency is to seek Him first to fix my treasure. 

This sort of trouble will not end, but continues assuredly each day. He implores us to not set our heart upon a trouble-free treasure day because it is a pipe dream.  If we do this, we will never get around to seeking first an inheritance in His coming kingdom which is in accord with our righteousness. In the midst of treasure trouble Jesus invites us to worry more about treasure in His kingdom. My tendency is to seek Him first to fix my treasure. When I become treasure troubled, I subtly allow the cares of this life to choke the life-changing power of the word from my heart (Matt 13:22). When the implanted word of God is choked, my inward transformation is stunted, and my future kingdom inheritance endangered (James 1:21, Matt 13:23). Knowing that each day will be filled with trouble, Jesus, in all of His tender directness, beckons us to to seek treasure in His Kingdom first. Whether our trouble is due to the breaking of our treasures or the basic necessities of life, He invites us as He did David, “Seek My face“, to which our hearts cry out, “Your face, LORD, we will seek!” (Ps. 27:7-9).

Question: What treasures have troubled you lately? Did you maintain a focus of seeking heavenly treasure in the midst of it? Why or why not? Leave your comments below.

I recently was struck with the truth that He is not looking for a better me but a lesser me.  He does not want better morality from me but greater dependency. I’m not to imitate the Vine but abide in it.

That’s a mouthful, admittedly, but it came not out of a culmination of lofty ideas but rather out of a deficiency of “good” within me as a mom.  It was one of those weeks, here at the final few days of this fourth pregnancy, when I found myself painfully lacking in godly responses to my other three children. Patience and peace and even joy had long drifted to a distant sea and I was left alone empty-handed in the sharp and cutting rawness of self. Just raw me, without the beautiful “goodness” that comes only from the Lord and springs forth only from the true Vine (Ps. 16:2; Jn. 15:5).

And there in my exposed state,  in the remorseful afterglow that follows the filth of wrongdoing,  I found myself repenting. Sincere reaching to the Lord out of my blaring weakness within and without.  It was in those moments as I lifted my heart to the Lord that I felt His reminder. He really isn’t after a better me but a lesser me. The One who spoke, “You can do nothing apart from Me” is not surprised when my “doings” are so  worthless. He is not asking for better outward works but greater inward reliance. He doesn’t want me polishing the doorknobs of my morality but rather cleaving desperately, with gut-level dependency,  to the only One who is Good.

I am to be the one who clings out of great need. HE is the One who transforms this deep abiding into the fruit marked by everlasting quality – fruit that remains (Jn. 15:16). More of me and what I have to offer does no one a favor. But more of HIM? More of His life and goodness and peace and joy? Even tiny traces of such true life are the greatest gift I can offer my children, my husband and those near me. I’m not to imitate this Vine, but abide in it – in HIM.

Thus, when I begin to live separately from Him – even in moments or hours of time – when I leave that inward dependency that alone bears true fruit, my first and primary wrong done is not the rash word I speak or the sharp tone I use, but rather my initial parting from my only Source of life. The offense is first found in my independence and autonomy from Jesus. Yes, my words and actions are wrong but not because I’ve failed at perfecting my imitation of Him but because in my pride, I’ve separated myself  from the Source who alone brings forth the sweet fruit of godliness in me. My repentance to the Lord is not first or fundamentally a prayer of, “Forgive me for that word I spoke,” but rather, “Forgive me for separating myself from You, for assuming self-sufficiency.” My confession to my children is not first the sin of impatience but the sin of independence from the Patient One.

And so again, as we journey these most precious flames of parenting, of loving God and loving one another, let us remember that He is not looking for better morality from us but greater dependency  and faithful cleaving to Him – the kind of clinging to the Vine that alone bears true and lasting fruit. Our joy and aim is to at last give up the art of imitation and to truly partake of His impartation, His life and light abundant.