Ryan's Ramblings

Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. (Acts. 2:2, NIV)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 . . .

Jesus, give me your holiness.
I open up to You my eyes, my ears, my mind,
my soul.
Come in and have Your way.
Make my heart Your home.
Blow through my life and fill it completely.
Every room belongs to You.

Christ, as the Son, is in charge of God’s entire house. And we are God’s house, if we keep our courage and remain confident in our hope in Christ. (Hebrews 3:6, NLT)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 . . .

I am weary, O God;
I am weary and worn out, O God.
I am too stupid to be human,
and I lack common sense.
I have not mastered human wisdom,
nor do I know the Holy One. (Proverbs 30:1-3, NLT)

Have you read Proverbs 30 lately? It was written by a guy named Agur and it is full of ramblings and reflections about snakes, adulterers, leeches, lizards, ants, kings, fools and bloody noses. It’s perfectly random—but I like his honesty.

In the first three verses of his contribution to the most famous book of wisdom literature in the world, Agur doesn’t try to impress with profundity, but rather, he’s real. He says he’s “weary and worn out,” and with that, . . . he has my attention. Because ALL of us are exhausted these days as we navigate this pre/post/current pandemic world.

Then he says, “he lacks common sense,” and is “too stupid to be human.” Although that seems a bit harsh, it’s not too far from how I feel just about every day, especially today, as I try to figure out how to flush the hard water deposits out of my water heater. Life is hard—in the most humbling ways—and so is my self-talk.

And finally, Agur gets painfully honest and says, “nor do I know the Holy One.” 𝑶𝒖𝒄𝒉. In the midst of the mess of this world and the messiness of my heart, I too at times feel far from God—because I am.

So, where does all this honesty and self-deprecation leave Agur, me, (and you)? Surprisingly, it leaves us in the perfect place to find God, for Agur’s list perfectly describes the qualifications and credentials of those who can come to Jesus.

Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30, NLT)

Jesus doesn’t want perfection, He just wants us to come to Him.

As you come to [Jesus], the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house. (1 Peter 2:3-5, NIV)

As I read today about being a “living stone,” built into a spiritual house for God’s glory, my boyhood mind went in another direction.

I began thinking about the perfect “skipping” stone. It is flat, smooth, and an ideal fit for the hand that is doing the throwing. And when it is thrown correctly, it glides along, just above the surface of the water, inciting ripples of ever-widening beauty everywhere it touches.
And I found myself praying:

Jesus, I want to be a living, “skipping” stone, for You.
Find me, make me, empower me and use me for your Glory.
Get ahold of me and fling me furiously.
May I alight gently and joyously upon the surface of the world,
and bless others with the kindness, goodness and beauty You instill.
May my life give you delight, and may the places where I "skip" today
ripple outward with your love, mercy and amazing grace.
Amen

Though he was God,
[Jesus] did not think of equality with God
as something to cling to.
Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;
he took the humble position of a slave
and was born as a human being.
When he appeared in human form,
he humbled himself in obedience to God
and died a criminal’s death on a cross. (Philippians 2:6-8, NLT)

I have two daughters and during their growing up years I was a lot of things: a teacher, a minister, an adjunct professor, an assistant principal and a principal, and within those various contexts people referred to me as pastor, leader, supervisor, professor, administrator and boss. Each role I served and title I held were an aspect of who I was and what I did professionally, and they were the means by which I was able to provide for my family.

But all that meant nothing to my little girls. When I came home to them at the end of the day I was one thing—their Daddy, who cared for them and loved them—and that was all that mattered.

God is love, and Jesus was and is God, and over the eons He has been many things: omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, the Alpha and the Omega, and the Creator of the universe (to name a few), and His titles include—Son of God, the Word, King of Kings, Immanuel, Prince of Peace, Lord of Lords, the Way, the Truth and the Life.

But all that meant nothing to Him when He saw his little children—you and me—in need of rescue. Jesus left his home, humbled himself, came as a baby, became a servant, and died a criminal’s death on a cruel Roman cross to save us from our sins. Out of kindness and care for you and me, Jesus abandoned all titles and positions except for one—Love—and that was all that mattered.

The other day I unexpectedly ran into a friend I hadn’t seen for a long time and we only had about five minutes to chat. We talked briefly about work and family and then the topic of faith came up. My friend said that his relationship with God had become a bit cold and distant of late and he seemed forlorn and disheartened about it.

I felt bad for him. I’ve been there. That is a tough and discouraging place to be. You feel like a failure, and the way back to God seems too complex and too costly.

I wanted to help my friend, and my mind immediately went to James 4:8,
𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒘 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖. (ESV)

I shared the verse with him and he paused a moment and then asked, “Is it really that simple?”

And suddenly our five minutes were up.

If there had been more time I would have shared with him about the loving Father that eagerly stands on the road waiting and watching for the prodigal’s return. (Luke 15) I would have reminded him that God is faithful, even when we aren’t. (2 Tim. 2:13) And I would have assured him that Jesus doesn’t ever give up on us—He is ever knocking at our heart’s door. (Rev. 3:20)

As we parted, I told my friend that I would be praying for him and I encouraged him to read his Bible and call upon the Lord in prayer. I said, “Start there—draw near to God and He will draw near to you.”

Thanks to Jesus, it really is that simple.

“𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓: 𝑨 𝒑𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒅, 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒃𝒂.”

The above superscription is found at the outset of Psalm 51. It doesn’t even merit a verse number, but it sure packs a punch. It’s the “back story” for David’s prayer recorded in the psalm. Anyone who has read the whole story in 2 Samuel 12 knows that this pithy introduction to Psalm 51 is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to David’s offenses—teeming with lust, adultery, deception, manipulation and murder.

However, as I point the finger at David, I can’t help but notice three more fingers pointing back at me. I don’t know about you, but an honest superscription of my life, although different from David’s, would be just as tarnished. The Apostle Paul sums it up well, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Rom. 3:23)

Sin may have the first word in this psalm of David, but sin didn’t have the last word in David’s story—and sin doesn’t have the final word in my life either.
Jesus does.
He paid the price for my sins upon the cross and God doesn’t want a blood sacrifice from me. But He does want something—my heart.

Take a look at David’s words near the end of Psalm 51:

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕.
𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝑶 𝑮𝒐𝒅. (vs. 17, NLT)

(Wow, now that merits a verse number!!)

Give God your heart. Let Jesus be the first and last word in your life.

The hours of our lives—they are a precious commodity.
We don’t want to lose a single one.
So we say to ourselves and to others:
don’t smoke,
stay away from fried foods,
exercise regularly,
cut the sugar,
manage your stress,
get regular check ups,
avoid the lines at the DMV,
and, . . . be careful!
We all want to live. We want every hour of life we can get.
Why? So we can watch more Netflix? Football? and Fixer Upper?
Maybe, but too much cotton candy leaves us sick and unsatisfied.
Time flies as the hours congeal into days.
Is it time spent or invested?
Do our minutes have meaning?
We give great attention to the hours of our life;
but what about the life in our hours?

Oh! Teach us to live well! Teach us to live wisely and well! … And let the loveliness of our Lord, our God, rest on us, confirming the work that we do. Oh, yes. Affirm the work that we do! (Psalm 90:12, 17 MSG)

It was nearly time for the Jewish Passover celebration, so Jesus went to Jerusalem. In the Temple area he saw merchants selling cattle, sheep, and doves for sacrifices; he also saw dealers at tables exchanging foreign money. Jesus made a whip from some ropes and chased them all out of the Temple. He drove out the sheep and cattle, scattered the money changers’ coins over the floor, and turned over their tables. (John 2:13-15, NLT)

The Passover celebration . . . a remembering of the days of Moses, when the blood over the doorframe of your home meant rescue, deliverance and salvation. And now the people were coming to the Temple yearly, religiously paying the price for the blood of animals to cover their sins. They were being charged an extravagant amount of money for something . . . that wasn’t enough.

And then Jesus came. He flipped the tables, flipped the Scriptures and said enough is enough. He drove the religious, the swindlers and the sin offerings from the Temple. He chased them all out. The birds flew, the cattle ran and the sheep scattered. There were no more sacrifices left in the building.

None, except One.

The Lamb of God stood alone in the Temple court like a tree on a hill, foreshadowing His cross on Calvary, where he paid the ultimate, extravagant price—once and for all—for the religious, the swindlers, and for you and for me. Where He proclaimed, “It is finished!”

Jesus is enough.