Tag Archives | repentance

Waiting for Our Beloved

My final guest’s humble words relay a powerful message as we near the end of the Contenders of the Faith series. Kristin Brown has a quiet way of drawing others into the heart of God. Today, she invites us all to consider what it means to await our coming King. (If you’ve missed the other posts in this series, get caught up by starting here.)

Contenders of the Faith Part 3

Waiting for Our Beloved by Kristin Brown

We have never been as near to the second coming of our Lord Jesus as we are now. The evidence is all around us. The creation itself groans with labor pains as hurricanes spiral and earthquakes devastate. The signs in the heavens couldn’t be clearer as constellations cry out His coming and the sun is darkened by the moon. The peoples are raging as nations are rising against nations and persecution abounds against the saints.

The tiny book of Jude, written in the first century AD, delivers a powerful message to the church today. Initially desiring to write about the great salvation that has been entrusted to the saints, Jude, most probably the brother of Jesus, shifts gears and presents a message of admonition to the believers. He warns that the church has been infiltrated by godless men who reject the authority of the Lord Jesus Christ and who encourage the church to abuse the grace given to them by indulging in sin. And then, Jude passionately calls the believers to wake up and remember that in the last days, evil men will try to divide the church, but that they must stand their ground and contend for the faith.

“But you, dear friends, build yourselves up in your most holy faith and pray in the Holy Spirit. Keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.”   Jude 20-21

Now, more than ever, the church must awaken. We must pursue godliness, releasing anything in our lives that prevents us from obeying completely the Word of the Lord. We must get on our knees in prayer, and learn to hear his voice. And we must keep ourselves in God’s love as we wait for His return.

But just how do we keep ourselves in the love of God, as Jude urges us to do? And how do we await His coming?

As I dusted off my Greek New Testament and lexicon and began to dig into the original language of Jude 21, several things jumped out at me. The first was the strange ordering of the sentence. In a very literal translation the wording goes like this: “Yourselves in the love of God keep ye!” The Greek word for “keep ye” is teresate and it means to keep unharmed or undisturbed. It has the nuance of keeping a virgin pure before marriage. I looked up other cross references in the New Testament that had the same word and found Jesus’ clear words to his disciples just before his death, “He who has my commands and keeps them, he is the one who loves me,” John 14:21. And then in 1 John 5:18, “We know that anyone born of God does not continue to sin; the one who was born of God keeps him safe and the evil one cannot harm him.”

Keeping ourselves in the love of God is not just an emotional declaration of our love for God. It is a resolute commitment to obeying his words. It is keeping ourselves pure for our bridegroom. The ordering of Jude’s words makes it clear that this keeping is something we must do ourselves and at the same time, as 1 John declares, (to my great relief!) it is something that Jesus Himself does in us.

Waiting For Our Beloved

Concerning awaiting His coming, Jude uses the word prosdechomenoi to describe the way we are to await the mercy of the Lord to bring us to eternal life. This word literally means “toward receiving” and it conjures up the image of a child holding out his arms waiting anxiously for a gift. We are to await His coming with that same kind of convinced expectancy.

Over thirty years ago, my Aunt Carolyn suffered two major brain injuries and had to learn to do everything over again. Things like eating and swallowing and speaking and walking had to be relearned, just like a baby. Reading and writing are still especially difficult for her, but she is a faithful prayer warrior like few I have ever known. For years now she has said the same thing in the midst of the difficulty of her earthly life, “Maybe the Lord will come today!” It is her greatest hope and the very thing that keeps her going day after day. Like a little child, she reaches toward the return of the King.

I have been meditating on Hebrews chapter 10 during these exciting days leading up to the time when we will see His face.

So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. For in just a very little while, ‘He who is coming will come and will not delay. But my righteous one will live by faith. And if he shrinks back, I will not be pleased with him.’ But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved. Hebrews 10:35-39

He is coming soon! Let us press forward then, throwing off every sin that entangles us and let us await the coming of our beloved with pure and expectant hearts.

Just think. Maybe the Lord will come today!

About Kristin

About Kristin

Kristin Brown lives in the country with her firefighter husband, Jason, and three children, Adeline, Jeremiah and Thaddaeus.

She spends her days homeschooling her children and helping manage the family’s small working farm.

She writes about how her farm experiences testify to the presence of God.

 

You can check out Kristin’s blog, Respite Ranch, at kristinjoybrown.wordpress.com.

Final Thoughts…

A life of faith requires listening, believing, trusting and obeying; it never requires empty striving or weary proving. As the gospel intersects our hearts, Jesus proves His love through our surrendered lives, making us all contenders of our sacred faith. Today, may Kristin’s beautiful words encourage us to throw up our arms and exhale as we await His return.

If you haven’t already, grab your free download of Jude1:20-21 here. Follow me on Facebook and tune in for one more live video Wednesday at noon!

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What I’m Learning About Unsubscribing

The holiday busyness has finally come to a thankful end, and the silence and stillness my soul craves every January has made me glaringly aware of a restlessness I need to address.

Every morning after coffee, I delete about 13-16 emails.

Without opening, or even clicking, I mindlessly drag them to my virtual trash can which is an overflowing mess of advertisements, coupons, time-sensitive offers, and junk.

I need to unsubscribe.

All those times I handed over my email address to get something in return: a receipt, freebie, or steal of a deal.

Then there were times I thought I was getting something I wasn’t. Or the sender turned out to be someone I didn’t recognize.

Today, I make my list and—one by one—I scroll all the way to the bottom of the page, and I click unsubscribe. It feels more refreshing than I expected.

I’m learning the freedom of unsubscribing.

January is always the best time to make space for new—new commitments, new adventures, and new yes’s. New relationships, new growth, new opportunities to join in the work God is already doing. New habits, new rhythms, new rest.

A wise friend recently told me that every season she asks God to prune everything from her life that is not bearing fruit. This is always so hard for me, because it inevitably means saying no to good things, cutting comfortable, and ending habits I’d rather keep in my white-knuckle grip.

Bare often comes before beauty. The practice of making space requires discipline and patience. We make space for yes only by saying no. We make space for new only by disengaging from what isn’t thriving.

Today, my email list is my barometer. I’m learning that I say yes a whole lot more than I should, and after just 15 minutes and 40 un-subscriptions, I realize why I haven’t unsubscribed sooner.

As I methodically click through the steps to disengage from all the marketing agreements, explain myself with a check of a box, and confirm my decision to unsubscribe, I am aware of one lingering fear.

I’ve been dragged down a time or two by the nasty fear of missing out.

Our culture screams to us that if we pull back, step out, or disengage—even for a season—we’ll be left behind and forgotten. We fear we’ll regret the decision as soon as we come to terms with all we are missing out on.

So, we keep subscribing.

The truth is that all this junk is what’s causing us to miss out. We’re missing out, because we’re too busy hauling stuff to the trash every day.

It’s amazing how much less distracted I am after unsubscribing.  I still receive emails. Out of 54 subscriptions, I eliminated 40, roughly 75%. My fourteen favorites I kept, and with all the space left over, I decided to add 3 new subscriptions.

Paying attention to my inbox has made me more aware of what I allow into my head.  I’m asking myself: What are my subscriptions to dangerous and destructive thought patterns costing me? Am I missing out on stuff like peace and opportunity and the silence required to hear the voice of God?

I’m learning through deep cuts and shallow scrapes that what I bargain for doesn’t always end up in my favor. I cooperate—even sign my name on the line—all to my own demise, because the source asking my consent isn’t God.

I’m learning how a cluttered mind crowds out peace.

Though I could easily crank out 40, here are the top ten thought patterns I am unsubscribing from… with God’s help, of course. (Disengaging from destructive or distracting mindsets is never something any of us can achieve on our own.)

I’m pulling every one of these out of my mental inbox and asking God to replace those empty spaces with the truth of His word.

 

M y   u n s u b s c r i b e   l i s t:

living like it’s all up to me

assuming the worst rather than believing the best

trusting others rather than God

fearing others more than I fear God

competing

comparing

harboring bitterness

choosing unforgiveness

measuring impossible expectations

forgetting all about grace

 

This is a lame list of lies or at best, it should be categorized as “Junk” with a capital “J.” It may take a whole lot longer than 15 minutes, but I know I’m not the One accomplishing this feat. Honestly, some of these have been on my unsubscribe list for years now.

Unsubscribing isn’t always automatic.

But the decision to unsubscribe—fueled by a desire to disengage—will eventually eliminate distraction and discouragement. Eventually.

This matters. The space you surrender to God counts. He sees beyond the disgusting pile of garbage all around you… He sees you, and He has a bold plan for all the empty space He wants to help you clear out. He’ll fill every crevice and corner and hollow space with His grace.

God, renew our hearts and minds. We bring every sinful subscription to the foot of Your cross, and ask You to unsubscribe us from all that contradicts your Love and purpose for our lives. Empty us of every lie we’ve believed in fear; empty us of ourselves. Make space in us for Your truth. Amen.

 

Jesus loves you,

Kelly

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Hope Does Not Reside in the White House

I’m driving the same route I travel every single morning. Ten minutes to the elementary school, ten minutes back home. The big kids are chatting in the backseat, and the little one is surprisingly quiet.

I turn onto the two lane country road—at least that’s what I call it. It still feels country to me. Stretches of nothing flank either side, but I know it won’t stay that way for long.

I love this road. It’s one of the few places left in this suburban town where cows graze in open fields. Quiet and serene, it’s my favorite part of my morning drive.

Today I smell a fire burning.

I’m not alarmed; I’m curious. With awakened senses, I strain my eyes to try and find the fire itself. Then I notice what I’ve missed every single morning since school began back in August.

I see a small white cross and think about the family who lost someone precious right here on this quiet road. A huge log wider than a telephone pole lays sideways in the ditch further down. I have no idea why it’s there.

Trash collects to the left and to the right of this strip of road. Plastic bags and paper carried off by the wind settle into hidden crevices. I’m overcome by the signs of brokenness all around me.

Sometimes, it’s easier to notice beauty than recognize brokenness.

One week later, I inhale that same smell. The election has ended but the conflict continues. The intensity of emotion I thought would fade hasn’t.  Another fire burns somewhere nearby.

Ugliness and brokenness exist outside of and all around me, especially today. Yet the Spirit of God is begging me to notice the brokenness and ugliness within my own crippled heart.

Hope Does Not Reside in the White House

Rather than search outside, this morning tears flow as I search within. I take accusatory fingers that point outward, and I lace them together tightly and pray.

As I begin to notice my own heart, it unravels me. I remember Jesus’ words I read in Revelation this morning before the sun announced a new day. 

“I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you.”

Revelation 3:1-3 (emphasis added)

I take note of relationships that appear to thrive on the surface yet I know are dangerously close to dying. I ask God to help me with that log in my eye, and I wonder how long it’s been obstructing my view.

My cluttered heart has allowed selfishness and entitlement to crowd out the work of God. And I’m reminded of my great need for Jesus here on this two lane country road with a car full of children learning to follow my lead.

Sometimes, it’s easier to be complacent than repentant.

Eyes are windows into hearts so maybe heart change begins with seeing differently, with noticing. The smell of thick, heavy smoke compelled me a week ago to look around intentionally, and today, it’s the fire I cannot see that quickens my spirit within.

Hope for our nation does not reside in the White House. Hope resides in human hearts, because Hope is alive, and His name is Jesus. We need revival to sweep through this country like wildfire.

Unity and peace aren’t our first steps. Repentance is first. Repentance is always first. Peace and unity follow.

Light a fire within us

Revival begins with repentance.

Awakening begins here. In me. In you. It starts with honesty and confession. Words like they and them become we and us. It starts with noticing what’s inside of us and begging God to change us.

I whisper a prayer that feels urgent and necessary and costly. Hope leads the way. Care to join me today? There’s plenty of ground to share as we hit our knees together.

Forgive us, Jesus.

We need you in the worst way. Spark a fire here inside and awaken us.

Help us recognize how pride and entitlement and complacency have blinded us. Open our eyes. Make us aware of what needs healing within our hearts. Show us where our footing is all wrong as we travel this narrow path.

Show us where the world hurts, and give us courage to hurt right alongside. Help us to reach far outside comfort zones to what exists outside our understanding.

We confess that much of the ugliness begins here in our own hearts. Remind us of the beauty of Your grace and forgiveness. Cover us with Your love.

Build Your kingdom here on earth.

Amen.

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