a life that is worthy

The books stack high.

The to do list runs long.

The sticky notes accumulate.

The places to go add up.

I find myself wanting to take a nap against the gentle hum of the car…as I drive. Wake up!  Feels like the only time I slow down–as I’m being hurtled 70 mph on the highway.

Make the most of my time.  Make the most of my time.  Make the most of my time.

The thought of the sacrifice of Jesus weighs heavy.  His mercies on me everyday–oh, how I want to live a life worthy of what He has given me!

Live worthy.  Live worthy.  Live worthy.

So I scramble for everything I can get my hands on.  I grapple, I fight!  I set out on a quest to squeeze every drop out of the life I have been given.

My reason?  To be worthy.

To show Him my gratitude.

As I panic.  As I moan.  As I crack.  I buckle.  I exhaust myself.

I forget to worship.
I forget to pray.
I forget to give thanks.

Because I’m too busy.

Trying to be worthy.

I seem to have forgotten.  I seem to have looked past the essence of grace itself.

Though I would at first deny it, my seemingly noble quest to live a live worthy–my struggles to make everything fit, my disappointments when things don’t go as planned, my exhaustion by the time I get halfway down the list–yes, that noble quest, is nothing but pure pride.

Pride.

Believing that I would have something to offer Him.

Pride.

Believing that through my sheer ambitions I can offer Him a life worthy of His gospel.
Through my ideas of noble things.  Through my plans.  Through my perception of what is worthy.

It is a cheapening of His blood.

I forget.  I forget where I came from.  I forget Who He is.

No! my heart screams.  No!  That’s exactly why I feel this burden–I want to show Him my gratitude!

But I have truly forgotten.  Because if I hadn’t forgotten, I would have remembered that it is the love of my heart that He desires.

The satisfaction of my heart.
The joy of my heart.
The smile on my face.

I was dead.  Cold, hard, dead.

But He came.  Jesus came, He lived perfectly, He suffered, He died.  He rose.
So that I might have life.

And life abundantly.

I had nothing in and of myself.  God could not give me grace, if it had not been for the blood of His Son.  He is too holy, and I unworthy.

But when Jesus took on my sin, He gave me His righteousness.  So that I stand before God–worthy of being in His presence.  Because I was given the essence of Jesus.

I forget.  And I strive to prove that I’m grateful for my ticket into heaven.

“Be anxious for nothing,” He says.  And He calls me to thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving.

The outpouring of a heart fully satisfied.  And yet, I seek to satisfy my heart with my actions.  I feel as though I am not truly worthy, my heart is dissatisfied with myself.

And God whispers that He is enough.  That His power is perfected in my weakness.

That means that I am already worthy.  I bear the branding marks of Jesus on my body.  I wear His garments.  His righteousness is now mine.

Go boldly to the throne of grace.

Regardless of what I’ve done.  Regardless of how I ‘proven’ that I’m grateful.

I lost the time.  The lost the thought.  I lost the reminder to taste and see that He is good.

Now He calls me.  He whispers love.  He woos me.

To drink my coffee extra slow.  To relish the feeling of baby fuzz on my cheek, as he sleeps on me.  To bake cookies with the little girls, for no reason.   To take the time to light the scented candles.  To try a new recipe.  To go ahead and write my favorite scene. To watch the music video of my favorite song. To daydream.  To smile.  To smell the roses.

This is my life.

My purpose is to glorify Him in my satisfied heart.

My struggle is that I’m still not doing enough.  Lord, what about ministry?  What about the widows and orphans?  What about– and He reminds me:

The greatest of these is love.

My heart is inclined to the things of Him.  When my heart is fully satisfied with Him, filled with His love, He will lead me in the way of the ministry in which He desires me.

Sometimes it’s nothing grandiose.  Sometimes it’s simple, seemingly insignificant, mundane and boring.

Like rocking the baby to sleep at 3:30am.

Like crying with my little sister, trying to articulate the holiness of God.

Like sitting here, writing this blog post, praying someone else is encouraged by my rocky journey.

It doesn’t look like much.  It looks too comfortable, too easy, too plain–boring!

But who am I to question where He has placed me?

In a few years, He may call me to the streets of Brazil.  And I know that my heart will be overflowing with joy and peace, satisfaction as I set about the task He has requested of me.

But for now, He calls me to the mundane.  The laundry folding, ‘taxi’-driving, cookie baking, nose-wiping, blogging, beautifully fulfilling life.  Because it’s His purpose for me.

And that makes it worthy.

Amy B
Editor
Jesus lover. Obsessive coffee drinker. Chocolate consumer. Plays guitar. Sings too loud. Apple girl. Wordaholic. Bookie. Music junkie. Techy. Unlikely hipster.

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