Walking It Out

I am tired. I have been going and going and going. But unlike the Energizer Bunny, I can’t keep going. I am in a job that is eating me up. I am attending classes with little inspiration. I am running on empty, and it’s just the beginning of the year. But I am reminded of the simple yet easily forgotten truth that, of course, I can’t keep going. Of course, I will get tired. Of course, inspiration will lack. I can’t strive on my own. I work so hard and let pride slip in. I work and work and work, feeling weak and tired, but somehow find pride in the fact that I’m inching my way through! This pride disgusts me once I recognize it. Why would I inch by and struggle on my own power, taking pride in my vain attempts to “do the right thing” when, if I admitted that I am weak and my best efforts are ineffective, I could actually make it through with my head up. God lifts my chin to His light and tells me to breath.

Where is this all coming from? I often listen to sermons from, what I call my “home church,” Strong Tower Bible Church to get some biblical encouragement and realistic motivation. This last sermon I listened to was called “Invite Jesus to the Party.” Invite Jesus to the Party, STBC

This title is deceivingly simple and cute, but the message is empowering and meaty. After listening to this message, I realized how quick I am to forget. How quickly I forget to invite Jesus into my life, my studies, my hopes, my frustrations. I talk about the truths I hold dear so readily and so naturally that I actually forget the power by which these truths exist. It’s not that I am able to forget that these truths come from my mighty Creator God who is beyond comprehension.

Perhaps it is that I forget to be astounded?

I know I forget to render myself totally.

Perhaps I forget to be uncomfortable with my best efforts?

Or rather I forget that being uncomfortable with my best actually means something. It means that I cannot do this. It means that I have to do some things that don’t make sense right now. And writing now is an attempt to bring clarity to this thing God is doing.

In the sermon, Pastor Chris Williamson refers to Jesus’ turning of water into wine found in John 2. He mentioned the fact that, at first, what the servants are asked to do makes no sense. Do such and such with these pots… fill them with water… serve the water to the master of the banquet… ummm how does that take care of the problem? The servants simply do what Jesus told them to do. It makes no sense. “What the heck are we doing with this water? I mean, Jesus knows the problem is that we ran out of wine, right?” Initially, the plan God has for us makes no sense.

I don’t know why I’m out here sometimes. I don’t know why I’m dealing with some of the things I’m facing. But, right now, it doesn’t have to make sense.

At some point during the time the servants fill the water containers, ladle the water, and pour it into the glass for the master of the feast, the water transforms.

Ohh, the change is around the corner.

But if the servants had gone about their own ways of seeking out wine, if Jesus’ mother had seen to the problem seeking out her own agenda, if someone had decided to stress over the issue and take things into their own hands, the result may be that they come up with some wine or a weak substitute. The result may have been either just decent or extremely embarrassing. The possible results anytime we try to take care of a problem, apart from God, range from decent to deplorable. Nothing more. Until God makes something from our ashes (Isaiah 61:3), our best efforts can only result in okay or horrible. However, they didn’t face the struggle in their own strength. They didn’t do the things that might have made sense to do in a situation like theirs. They didn't send someone out to the market to buy the cheapest wine with what little money they could muster off the cuff or start serving some other drink on hand (which would have culturally brought shame on the family). Instead, they do what Jesus commands. They do what does not make sense.

And the result? The master of the banquet announces to the groom, “Everyone sets out the fine wine first, then, after people have drunk freely, the inferior. BUT YOU HAVE KEPT THE FINE WINE UNTIL NOW.”

What Jesus provides exceeds our very best. What He provides, in our weakness, surpasses any effort we could strive to put forth. Because the servants listen and follow, they are met with a manifestation of the glory of Jesus. Those words should not be missed. Because they obeyed, the hugeness of God made an appearance at a party.

I might be able to muddle my way through my issues. I might be able to come out of this semester okay. But what might happen if I stop trying and striving, and I actually pause to listen and see these things into the hands of God. 

I Samuel 15:22 says that obedience is better than sacrifice. Hmmm... I go around pouring myself out like a martyr. I pain myself to take notice of my every effort. I whimper over my strife. And I take pride in my sacrifice. HA! How foolish I can be! To obey is better than sacrifice. I have been called to this place and time for a reason. I have been called to do well in my classes, not just partake in them. I have been called to give my all to the family that I am caring for, not to just offer them help. I have been called to use my money wisely and effectively, not just to make it by the skin of my teeth. I have been called to look for ways to bless my friends and pour into their lives, not to look for friendly compensation for my efforts. I have not been called to seek out “proper” compensation for anything I do. At all. Though, I want it. Sometimes it is necessary to point out to someone when they’re not giving back what they’re getting because that issue may be something they need to work on in their lives. But sometimes, you have to be a servant. Additionally, I should be careful not to let people walk all over me because that too would deny my purpose as God’s creation. There is a thin line between a servant and a door mat, a line that I have trouble defining at times. But how dare I allow myself to become lax in my callings on any level.

The party ran out of wine. I am running low on strength and fortitude of attention and motivation. I invite Jesus, not just to my aid, but to my life. I look to Him to pick up where I falter. I recognize that I can do nothing aside from Him. I realize that, right now, some things He has asked me to do don’t make a lot of sense to me and that they don’t have to make any sense. I relinquish the reigns so that I may look forward to the way, the BETTER way, by which God may replenish my life. I do this, keeping in mind that the results may not be what I wanted. They may not come when I long for them. But in His way, in His time. I rest in His peace. 

Don’t these seem like basic truths, natural to the Christian walk? Truths that essentially even a child could understand? Walking in truth is so different from simply talking about truth.  

Ephesians 3:20, “Now to Him who is able to do above and beyond all that we ask or think—according to the power that works in you—to Him be glory …”  

Listen for yourself: Invite Jesus to the Party, STBC