Your words…
Lord, reveal to me the end of my life and the number of my days. Let me know how short-lived I am. You, indeed, have made my days short in length, and my lifespan as nothing in Your sight. Yes, every mortal man is only a vapor. Psalm 39:4-5
My words…
With You, Lord, I may approach You with any number of ramblings, questions, complaints, musings, revelations, doubts, and requests. It is not lost on me that this is astonishing to say the least. I, a simple, undeserving soul, have unlimited access to the Ancient of Days, the One who thunders in the heavens, the Creator of the ends of the earth, the only true God. I know this because David knew it. And David wrote it.
Like in this Psalm. He is not asking of you the date of his death as if he could mark it on his calendar. His heart was too much like yours to make such a foolish request. I think he was having one of those introspective days when he looked back on his life and considered what was to come. I’ve had those days myself. Memories of my childhood pop into my mind when I hear an old song. Images of my wedding day and the births of my children scroll across my eyes like a diorama. I hear peels of laughter as one jumps into a pool while another sings a silly song about Pop-Tarts. I reflect on the innumerable words I have heard from teachers and have read in books, humorous conversations with friends, embraces with those who were hurting, and alone time with You. Cleaning toilets, baking cookies, teaching grammar, making mistakes, sleeping in, watching baseball—a lifetime of doing, thinking, and resting. I’ve already lived a full life, and I’m not done. And yet, it’s all a vapor. Poof, I’m here. Poof, I’m gone. My wee life is just one of gazillions that have been and will be on this blue marble. But I don’t mind because it marks a place in Your infinity that is wholly me. A pin prick on the timeline of earth, but it’s my pin prick. You created me for that space so I may live and laugh and love. I am so grateful. I pray I have been and will continue to be a pleasing aroma to You and not a stinging smoke.
Another rambling session. Thanks for listening.
Your words…
Mary took a pound of fragrant oil—pure and expensive nard—anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped His feet with her hair. So the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil. Then Judas Iscariot said, “Why wasn’t this fragrant oil sold for 300 denarii and given to the poor? Jesus answered, “Leave her alone; she has kept it for the day of My burial.” John 12:3-7
Whoever gives a cup of water to one of these little ones because he is a disciple—I assure you: He will never lose his reward. Matthew 10:42
My words…
My Bible is filled with heart-wrenching, mind-bending, tear-duct-emptying words intended to lead me to know You better. (Thank You for that.) Some of my favorite words are the ones where You take an imperfect earthly perception and send it through a heavenly masher. Out pops a divinely perfect truth. A Holy Trinity perception. Amazing! Here’s an example: In the Kingdom of God, what is spent and what is wasted is determined by You in a perfect way, a higher way. So different from how we do things in the world. In Your kingdom, a missionary’s embrace of a person wet from baptism is as valuable as a million-dollar pledge to a church building project. A divinely inspired word of encouragement is as precious as a well-stocked food bank. A cup of cold water given in Your name is as expensive as Mary’s nard. Anything spent on You is an investment yielding an eternal reward.
Mary performed an act of pure worship that cost her a year’s wages. Perfume spent but not wasted. On his way to teach, the Apostle Paul endured a day and night on the open sea. Physical health spent but not wasted. I used up the better part of two days creating a Bible bingo game for my class of 4–6-year-olds. They were more interested in the plastic square markers than they were in learning the all-important Bible facts. Time spent but not wasted? Not sure about that one, I must say.
I love to read the story of Mary’s sacrifice of perfume and her expression of adoration while drying Your feet with her hair. That must have felt…heavenly. You are so worthy of such an act.
I praise You and thank You for allowing me the honor of worshipping You in any form and Your loving acceptance of it. You waste none of it.
Your words…
But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin. 1 John 1:7
Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Isaiah 1:18
My words…
In truth, I don’t like to think about blood. I instinctively recoil when I see blood oozing from my skin (or anyone else’s). I prefer my blood stay inside my veins, so I don’t have to see it; therefore, I don’t have to think about it. But blood is mentioned in my Bible a lot! And I think this means I need to pay attention to blood. Especially Your blood, Jesus. I need to think long and hard about it.
You created blood to be the life-source of my body. If too much of it leaks out, I die. When Your blood leaked out, You died, but it did something that no one else’s shed blood had ever done. It cleansed. Your blood is a cleansing agent—a detergent for my sins. So, when I stand before You, I am clothed in garments whiter than snow, as is every believer. That is wonder-working powerful blood.
I am glad I do not have to stand in Your presence wearing my sin. It’s slimy and putrid and gross and crimson, not befitting the radiant throne room of the Ancient of Days. And because I now live in the South, my sins aren’t white as snow. They’re white as cotton.
Your words…
There are also so many other things that Jesus did, which if they were written one by one, I suppose not even the world itself could contain the books that would be written. John 21:25
“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, and my ways are not your ways.” This is the Lord’s declaration. Isaiah 55:8
My words…
There are times when I read Your words, and I can’t help but act like a four-year-old with a parent, asking the question all four-year-olds ask: “Why?” (“Why do I have to eat my peas?” “Why can’t I fly like Superman?” “Why does snot come out of my nose?”)
Here is a recent short list for You, Lord: Why did You create women physically weaker than men? Why are there so many insects? Why didn’t John write more about You, Jesus?
My questions originate from an overly curious mind. Curiosity—that quality You created within me. I know You know the answers, and I know they are good answers, most of which I will never know this side of heaven. But that’s okay because my curiosity about You fuels further meditation and wonderment. The more I ask, “why?” the closer my spirit aligns with Yours as I contemplate what You must have been (or are) thinking. And when the created contemplates the thoughts of the Creator, good stuff happens. Even when I walk away with more whys, I am elevated to a higher level of curiosity about You. Yay!
I praise You for Your patience with me as I plow You with whys. You didn’t seem to mind when King David did it. Your thoughts are not mine. Mine are not Yours. Even so, You allow me to throw my inquiries, notions, objections, and harebrained opinions against the wall to see what sticks. Most of it slithers to the floor. But, hey, that leads to more whys. And after years (decades) of this erratic rhythm, I can honestly attest that the why path has led me to trust You more and more with each question, whether or not You share the answer. I can’t explain why that works. You know why.
