sacrificial love (an excerpt from beth moore's breaking free)

Psalm 127:3-5 says: “Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from Him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.”

John 3:17 tells us God gave His Son for the salvation of people by sending Him into the world: God only had one arrow in His quiver. The most perfect arrow ever to exist. This arrow was a masterpiece, priceless to Him. Cherished far above all the hosts of heaven. Nothing could compare. His only heritage. His only Son. But as God looked on a lost world—desperate and needy and in the clutches of the enemy—His heart was overwhelmed. Though they had sinned miserably against Him and few sought Him, God had created them in love and could not love them less.

Love reached sacrificially into the quiver and pulled forth the solitary arrow. The quiver would now be empty, His cherished arrow in the hands of hateful men. Yes, God so loved the world; but God also loved His only begotten Son with inexpressible, divine affection. The divine dilemma: two loves. And one would demand the sacrifice of the other. Only one weapon could defeat the enemy of the soul—God’s arrow. He positioned the weapon, pulled back the bow, steadied His grip, and aimed straight for the heart.

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger…” (Luke 2:7)

Oh, how He loves us!

binder of the broken

powdery earth below, white heavens above

Snow always puts me in a contemplative mood.

I think it's because snow is both incredibly frightening but oh, so beautiful.

Snow has both the power to destroy and to cover over, to bring to ruin and to create beauty. It is, I think, one of God's most ironic creations.

It has been snowing since late last night; the flakes floating fat past my windows in a fluttery, almost divine sort of dance. It has steadily gotten heavier over the day, accumulating to about 4 inches or so beneath my windowsill.

Inside my warm apartment, I was curled up in a candy-cane striped blanket, so completely captivated by the snowfall, but I had to walk outside for a moment. It's funny how quiet and still everything gets when it's snowing.

It's almost like the whole world is pausing to take a breath; silence unbroken except for that of a few children running and crunching the snow beneath their boots...shrieking now and again in the new found joy of their arctic afternoon.

Powdery earth, white heavens, the flakes fall down from open skies, released by an unseen Hand.

Amongst the silvery trees outside my back balcony, 8 cardinals fluttered and flapped, a glorious riot of color on this white afternoon.

It's in the quiet, in the stillness, in the silence that the whispers of God can be heard. He's not found in the earthquake. He's not found in the fire. He's not found in the rushing winds. He's found in the silence.

But sometimes I wonder if He likes to hang out in the snow.

breaking.

There was a reason why I was in band in high school and not in choir.

I can’t sing.

Well, I can, but not very well, anyways.

And I’m very aware of that fact.

Actually, I’m so aware of that fact that I try to wiggle out of doing worship at my small group pretty often.

And so far, I’ve been pretty successful.

Except here’s the problem: I’m running out of excuses.

See the problem isn’t that I can’t lead worship, it’s that I have a really hard time doing so…I’m really hard on myself. I’m the type of person that is very performance-driven, and prides themselves on doing well. It doesn’t help any that I have a performance background; even when I was growing up and in band, after concerts when my parents would congratulate me on a job well done, I couldn’t think of anything except the notes I missed, the out-of-tune parts in the song, the 4-count phrases I broke…

Now that I’m leading worship, I have to constantly remind myself that I’m not supposed to be striving for a job well done, I’m supposed to be helping others connect with God.

Wow, that’s definitely a pride issue.

I’m getting caught up in making myself feel good and not serving others….agh!

I’m so….so….well…

So human.

I have no qualms about playing an instrument. I can do that. I love doing that. It’s just the singing part that kills me.

Like last night for instance.

Last night I led worship for the first time in a couple months, and all things considered, it went pretty well, bearing in mind I’m trying to get over a cold, and my voice was shot to pieces.

Except for the fact that last night I laid awake in my bed beating myself up about it, replaying the entire situation in my mind… “You should have done this, you should have done that…why do you even try, Bethany? It’s so not even worth it…”

And then of course that leads to me comparing myself with other people.

My friend Travis last night said, “Some people who are terrible musicians turn out to be the most amazing worship leaders.”

Or something like that.

I just continue to pray that God would break me of this terrible characteristic…that he would show me that I can only go so far…

And it’s then that he will show up, take the reins, and bring the people in.

falling.

Has the Lord ever seemed so close that you could almost hear His heartbeat? Or has the Lord ever seemed so far that it feels like you’re reaching to the sky, but grasping nothing? I feel stuck between the two.

Lately it feels like I’m being given a crash course in faith, and it’s so hard not to feel like I’m gonna fall out of the sky…

I feel like I’m walking on the edge of a knife: stray to far to the right or the left and you’ll be hurt, but walk the edge and you’ll be perfectly safe. The only thing though is that I’m starting to feel the edge of the blade come up through my shoes and it’s really hard not to just want to jump off, throw in the towel, and bow out of the game.

I know I’m not making any sense, but I had to get these feelings off my chest.

What am I doing here? Am I indeed chasing after what the Lord wants for me, or have I been duped into believing a grand lie? So often do I feel like everything is clicking and all the cogs are turning in their proper ways…that God truly has a plan and a design for me here…but today the cogs are not in sync, the rhythm’s off, there’s more than one out-of-tune note in the song…

It’s so hard to trust sometimes.

Christmas Discovery

I've discovered something new this Christmas.
No, it's not something entirely new.
In fact, it's quite old, but I've never truly discovered it before.

It's the lyrics to the Christmas carol, O Holy Night.

I've never actually been one for Christmas carols, but this year....this year was different. Now don't get me wrong, I love music in general and especially Christmas music, but I've never gotten into actually singing the old carols. Too often do I think we sing without hearing what it is that we're singing. It happens to me all the time. This year, however, I finally "heard" these lyrics and have been forever changed through them:

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of our dear Savior's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

'Til He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.

Til He appear'd and the soul felt its worth. That phrase has been constantly ringing in my ears the past few days. I can't help but wonder at the words...til He appear'd and the soul felt its worth...

I don't know, maybe its because I wasn't able to spend Christmas this year back home with my family, but this season, I've really been in a contemplative mood. This carol has especially stricken me at the heart and made me feel so incredibly loved...who am I that the God in heaven would see me as so valuable and worthy that He would send His only son to the earth for me? For me?

I had known before that the Lord loved me enough to send his son to be born and to die for me, but I've never quite seen it this way before. 'Til He appear'd and my soul felt its worth...

Do you feel it?

4 Hours 'Til Alarm [rings]

It's 2:29 in the morning and here I am again.

I'm lying awake while my roommate sleeps soundly down the hall.

Racing thoughts and a slightly uncomfortable stomachache keep me from getting any shuteye.

I'm wondering if there's a reason God keeps waking me up in the middle of the night or if I'm just slowly inheriting my father's habitual worrywart-ness. (Is that a word?)

Well, it is now.

Some clarity would be good, God.