This love of which I speak is slow to lose patience—it looks for a way of being constructive. It is not possessive: it is neither anxious to impress nor does it cherish inflated ideas of its own importance.
(1 Corinthians 13:4 J.B. Phillips)
Shake off your routines like bedcoversPlant your feet on the ground
for the journey
Clear your eyes of sleepTake in the sight of a new day
for loving your God
(Rachel G. Hackenberg)
I like my routines. I get up every morning. I brew a cup of coffee to sip and warm my hands, while I read my devotions. Then I find my pen and write in my journal.
In my journal, I start out with recording the day, the date, the time and the place. I make some observation about how I feel or record something from the day before that stood out as important.
And for Lent, I am writing love letters to God, which as I’ve said isn’t as easy as it sounds.
Last week as Lent began I received the ashes on my forehead. The words spoken that day jolted me.
And this week, the words, "Repent and believe the gospel," continue to confront me.
I was expecting “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” and instead I was startled by the word, “Repent!”
And the charge to “Believe the gospel,” initiated a spiritual crisis. Do I really believe the gospel? What does it mean to believe the gospel? Or more accurately, what would my life look like if I took God at His word that I am redeemed and forgiven?
Maybe I wouldn’t reach for the TV remote as often. Maybe I wouldn’t doubt God’s love. Maybe I would be more gracious towards those who disappoint me. Maybe I could stop being so angry. (I made the rash decision to give up anger for Lent. It's not going so well. I need to get rid of it, but that's my dilemma, I tend to hoard anger.)
Maybe, just, maybe I would get out of bed and greet each new day with joy because Jesus lives and loves!
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