Misidentification of whosoever was supposed to bear a word to me, and so it's been delayed. Gladly. Now so knowing, there's an even deeper sigh of resignation.
Nice bit of a rebuke tonight, though. For being flippant. I don't know that I've ever been that terrified.
...or, only in those instances in which death was staring me right in my face (like...falling from the balcony, say). Only worse. Because the wrath of God is a fate far worse than death.
I'd been asking Him for a greater fearful reverence. He is faithful.
Given the latter portion of a flip commentary on something said by Paul Washer, and then the next scripture read was halfway through Jeremiah 23? Very prayerful few moments.
Very, very prayerful.
Because, ultimately--again, i have absolutely no idea. Period. Of anything. Like as on the way home from church, to say--the more i begin to learn, the less i realize i have any idea of. And that's a bit which has been reiterated with no small degree of paradox over a lifetime, but it just becomes ever truer.
i know nothing.
The best can be done is to remark upon the things seen and the things heard. That's it. Period.
And, even then, there are certainly times when too much of self still utterly colors things. And, then there are moments when certain things absolutely alter the scope of everything, to the extent that--even being a yet-unrecognized crossover point--i get caught up in just sharing that momentary bit of mind-altering consideration unto revelation.
Because none of it's ever planned, so i never know what's going to come up.
Like today. Studying through bits about the third temple.
No intention whatsoever. Just came up. Don't even recall what bit of randomly striking curiosity led to what brought attention to the unfolding "war" between Palestine and Israel, or so say Palestinian officials.
And that led to one thing, then another, then red heifers and Zachariah and Ezekiel.
Something about the Mount.
Definitely to pray for Israel.
Tonight: Apology was accomplished, by the grace of God. And repentance, in fear for my life and unto surrender of it yet again.
And the Lord's Prayer.
1 Chronicles 11 and John 4. That was church, tonight. And a bit of a brief personal run-through of Hebrews 4, Philippians 4:8, and Colossians 3:2. In addition to a woman asking about 2 Chronicles 15(?:4?), in terms of a verse in Hebrews 11 (which is what put me to Hebrews 4, although it wasn't something to be shared).
I know I need to read Zachariah. If it goes the same with Zachariah as it has with Isaiah and Jeremiah and (most recent addition) Ezekiel, then I might finish at least one of those books by December. But probably not. Because, between going back and forth between each one, into Revelation, into Psalm, through various parts of the New Testament, then back and forth in random places in the Old Testament (somehow, ended up reading the entirety of Song of Songs a couple months-ish ago as a verse-by-verse study...somehow...didn't mean to, but it just happened, and still boggles my mind--of all the books to sit and read at once, with a verse-by-verse breakdown given all the many questions on ALL the rest)...
Yeah. I'm not even sure which parts of which books haven't been read, yet, and it's kind of frustrating when thinking of it more objectively. And I've tried a few times to sit and start from the beginning, but get so far and thoughts start wandering and end up in another chapter somewhere entirely different, transfixed. Isaiah 5 caught me up for a week, at one point recent. For an entire week.
Read that far, and just get completely caught up in the imagery. Finally have heard someone preach of it, now, as of half an hour ago...YouTube. And, ended up being in terms of what ended up being the construct, on the whole. As in terms of Jesus being the vine.
Only, I hadn't wandered across the corresponding Psalm, yet, but have increasingly been noticing how Psalms tend to be interconnected with all the many things across the entirety of the Bible, without any yet discernable order. I'm sure there is a pattern of some sort, but that's not a concern.
Psalm 2 is Jesus speaking. I mean--seriously.
verses 7-9
I will declare the decree:
the Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my Son;
this day have I begotten thee.
Ask of me,
and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance,
and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.
Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron;
thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel
No idea why I'd never really been so stricken with the truth of that, before. Contextually, I'd just always been operating under this assumption that Psalms is a book full of nothing except praise. Until a few weeks ago, and no recollection of which verses/chapters/books were involved, but wandered across something in Psalms which tied into one of the books of the prophets AND Revelation. Completely blew my mind. And, after finding the one instance, there was another. And it's all throughout the Bible, is what just completely leaves me speechless.
Someone at some point had to have told me about these things. But it apparently had gone completely over my head (so many things).
It all just...is so absolutely fascinating.
And I've been praying about it since earlier, the Bible reading plan, and it seems as something which won't go. Maybe, but...if I end up reading the Bible from the inside-out, going in both directions simultaneously, then...that should be fine, too. It was like starting at a central point, then drawing a spiral outwards, in a weird sort of way. Started with Psalms, in 2012, still not all read. Then Matthew, which--as much as I've read it backwards and forwards, I'd like to believe the entire book has been consumed, but still..every time it's perused, there's still something new even from texts which are "well known." Then, the beginning. Then Job.
And Lamentations was last week. Habakuk was the week before, each these two in entirety.
And others, in entirety from the New Testament.
But there are still so many books and chapters which just aren't at all known.
Something which checks me on that, though, when desire to read the entirety from cover to cover comes on...is knowing how much a temptation pride still is. And that it would certainly be something which would be a big temptation.
...
This brother, Paul Washer, speaks so many of the things which are just...Yes, and Amen!
If I could get everyone to listen to this sermon/teaching/testimony/witness "The Impossibility of Being Christian"...I'd feel as though I'd said something definitive and life-changing.
By the grace of God should it all have been so finely wrought as genuinely expository.
Just...I thank the Lord. It's poor form of me not to, as Washer points out, seek Jesus first. Through prayer and scripture. And it seems like I'm constantly telling Him how much I miss Him, which...is always then though absurd, because it's like there's constant fellowship. But it's like the difference between sitting down and...oh, listening to a sermon with your best friend...as opposed to sitting down with your best friend and having conversation with them.
If all you ever do is sit and listen to sermons together, eventually, even though you're still technically spending time together...it's as though you're just not interacting.
There's the companionship, lacking deeper aspects of communion. And it makes me sad. Which,,,yeah, I know. And still to be typing, nonetheless?
There are just a few more things, yet. Whatever they are.
Knowing Him is worth any sacrifice of self, and all. There is nothing else.
Even as it's still a struggle to maintain perspective, when stuff tries to assault in regard to details which are actually in hand.
In His hands. =D
Just...given some of the stuff I've lived through--with excess and with nothing at all, eating scraps off of plates for food... I know that all's well. Because, a long time ago, I had to come to terms with the fact that as long as I'm still breathing, I'm okay. Because whatever it was to take, I would make things happen.
So, now...realizing that my ability is absolutely less than even nothing, in some paltry attempt to compare myself to the Everlasting, Almighty God? Which is pretentious beyond all comprehension and patience, truly... Just, to realize ANYTHING of Him...
...is to know that, now, having surrendered to Him, He is my provider in all things.
Anything which is given, is given through Him. Whether trial or chastisement or honor or general provision.
Trusting Him has been such a long road, is all. And still being traveled. Just...it's so odd that in moments when things have been direst, there's been absolutely no doubt in my mind of His sovereignty. None, whatsoever. To the extent that I recall things happen which were through me, but definitely not by me. Near accidents, mostly, where this calm just took over and there was no doubt...just do. No doubt. No fear. Just a complete peace and calm and determination which wasn't something from me.
He's just...inexplicably wonderful.
To have known so, soooo many of those moments, though? And He NEVER, EVER failed me. Never. Ever.
Every time, staring death right in the face (these being the instances which I hadn't been responsible for, directly, even)...and just nothing, then peace. And a calm certainty of what to do, no questions. And, just to do it.
First I can recall anything such was third grade. Racing uphill on horseback, started to lose my grip, panic...then, as falling, just calm and blacked out. Woke up, no pain.
No pain. Fractured wrist and fractured pelvis--simple fractures.
Slept in a truck while dad went to get his own vehicle. No pain, no fear, just a calmness.
On the top of a mountain, effectively completely alone--the person who owned the truck wasn't home, he owned the mountaintop, no one else for miles and miles. Backwoods.
No fear, though. Just sleep.
Shock--yeah, probably. Adrenaline--yeah, probably.
Maybe even a mild concussion, although that was never something they stressed within my hearing.
Just, I remember--every time I woke up, in the hour and a half or so it took dad to get back...I'd start to get scared, then peace would just come over me and I'd go back to sleep.
I don't remember the first time I died, though. Mom told me about it not terribly long before she died, saying it was right before my next youngest sibling was born. Means it would've been a year and a half old, for me. Unless either she mistook the child she was pregnant with, which...I dunno--seems like something you'd remember? Which means I would've been 3 and a half.
Just makes me wonder that she'd told a friend of mine about having to resuscitate me when I was 4.
So, either it happened twice--which dad says is a possibility--or it happened once and she mixed up every detail over course of recounting the story twice in the last year she was alive.
Either way, it doesn't matter. Just as something that's pondered, periodically. I know it's grace. I know it's by His grace. That's all that matters--that it's Him.
Just, I remember telling mom about the singing I used to hear. I remember listening to it, one night in the darkness of my bedroom. And it was so beautiful, and there was a thought about how it was to comfort.
Telling about it, though, I was told I didn't hear anything. And I have yet to, again. Aside of through folks. And random junk, periodically. But not yet, the singing.
Nightmares must have started after that, though. Because--again, the memory was of being in total darkness of the bedroom, completely at peace, listening to the singing. And, apparently not hearing the singing didn't work out, because to this day I still sleep with a light on. Used to have night terrors.
No more.
Although I did shriek in outrage the second time my grandfather fell, 2:30am a couple weeks ago. Knowing that he was being hounded by crap which was contributing to his weakness. He didn't get a single injury from the second fall, though. Despite falling onto a 3ft tall vase and breaking it.
God is good.
Seriously.
My grandad always talks about how God looks out for fools and idiots, claiming himself both. But...most days that's entirely where i feel to fall, too.
Just...He's always helped me. When it's come right down to the line--He has ALWAYS helped me. And I figure it's like that for all of us who are His. There's just something about knowing certain death has you in its grasp, only to be miraculously delivered by what can only be explained by grace and mercy from the Lord...which just really helps make things that much more cemented and real.
Had been wondering about faith lately, too, and that's kinda what the gist was--in order to grow faith, it must be exercised. Growth in accordance, then, with the extent of the required exercise.
A couple months ago, the fixation had been upon the interrelation of faith, hope, and belief.
...makes more sense now, gaining a contextual perspective on the way things have gone.
Hope would never die. No matter what I did, no matter how it tortured me--to have once known hope, it refused to be extinguished. Then faith, unto belief.
Hoping, then to have faith, which becomes belief, by which anything can be realized, by the grace of the Lord.
Hope just somehow sort of sprouts into faith. And yet, it's still inexplicably tied into belief, too.
Confess faith and belief is born?
Something there about speaking things into being, yeah. The power of life and death.
Calling that which was not as though it is, or some. It's a fluid transition, one to the next.
The work of the Holy Spirit is absolutely astounding, then, is sufficient to say.
Time go do things.
God bless y'all!
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