So. Everything changes, again, while the Lord remains the same.
I've embarked upon a return to reverence and greater self-discipline, by grace. So much is still disarray. Realistically, there may always be a very real minimalism to the processes undertaken and endeavored.
Longing for "great things" and "prestige" and "success" in worldly ways, even under the guise of godliness, is not less idolatrous than doing so as a full-fledged worldling.
There just really isn't time to go into very much right now, although I do long to write of the Lord's faithfulness in convicting and delivering me, the more freely from this vantage of deeper recognition. Last year's failures were grievous. I know now, better than to think that apart from God's merciful grace in giving strength to endure and choose right, in humbling me to depend upon Him and fear Him increasingly...I would still be lost, and could easily just traipse into any wretchedness.
He must be the more dear, ever more, continually. Being in circumstances which are rife for faltering are inexcusable--where there is temptation, there needs to be flight. Period.
And He gives balance there, too, as not to continually be running from everyone and everything, and fleeing every potential stumbling block in advance of even having stepped foot beyond my residence...or otherwise, I'd be dodging even shadows now.
But I do know there's wisdom in avoiding the semblance of wickedness, even. I've been reminded. And I will submit to the Lord and whatever He wills.
I was given fair warning of an error in thinking which I hadn't heard of outright before, tonight: One that's been somewhat coloring my thoughts without my awareness, even. All the more grateful for deliverance!
A "Sonship Movement" is going around, which ultimately overemphasizes the reality of our adoption by God the Father, through Christ the Son, to the extent that all personal conviction and endeavor for growth in righteousness, holiness, sactification, by the grace of God working in and through us...is utterly minimized and ultimately discarded. Failure is embraced, instead, as insurmountable...and the focus is again and again shifted to Jesus as propitiation, that "we're sons and so need not be concerned with failure in sinning." By a skewing of perspective, the ideology thus increasingly makes sin acceptable...because Jesus died for it, and we're all accepted and acceptable now, though Him.
What was it Paul called such things?--worthy of condemnation. To claim by any fashion that we can freely continue in sin, because grace will abound toward us is an abomination, making utter mockery of our dear Lord and the travesty of sin. Sacrilege is not grace So, no...just no.
Despairing over sin needs to be unto God--pleading His mercy and strength and deliverance. And even so, we are to discipline ourselves, and He does give grace to do so.
And I fail at this, y'all. My life before Christ was absolute indulgence. So, comparatively...I'm living a life of significant uprightness now. But the reality is there is so much room for growth.
So, I am praying and have been slowly embarking upon increasingly disciplined living. Because of the desire to honor God out of love for Him, and despairing over the wretchedness of prodigality which remains. Loving Him means despair isn't a passive matter, languishing, but is unto a Savior. Unto and ever pressing on toward the One who overcame, and who put sin to death in His own flesh.
Don't we know that reality?--that, even as the Father has not withheld His own Son but given Him up, He will not withhold anything else needful for our growth in holiness (and all else which is truly necessary, besides). I mean, seriously? God gave that which is of higher value and worth than anything, to redeem us. He will not withhold whatever we need to overcome sin. It's already been accomplished, after all. So at the outset, I just have to continually plead with Him even to change my heart to want what's right, and to be turned increasingly toward concordant actions. And I pray still for these and for the strength to avail myself of His means of grace in being transformed and renewed.
He does use means for the application of grace. And in the midst of my wandering, the most difficulty returning has been redevelopment of disciplined practices in undertaking those means. Some of which, thankfully, have remained known as vital to life (suicidality is not a far walk for me, if I were to forsake assembling, for instance--there's something about congregate worship and instruction in the Word which God gives grace through to an extent which is not shared by other means...Youtube sermons and even hours' of private prayer or worship got nothin' on a single full service of congregate worship through prayer, praise, hearing the preaching of the Word, and fellowship with the saints)...
...but being in the Word. I have lacked so sorely the discipline of prior time. That was a major point of capitulation unto temptation--not being continually washed and awash in His Word. I had told folks repeatedly and authentically that the Scriptures are my medicine now, and if I am not daily in God's Word for a certain amount of time...it's notable. Realistically, at least an hour is the minimum time -solely in the Word- needed to truly have baseline wellness. And that's been a long time absent. So, I continue to struggle pretty sorely.
Praise and prayer and needful too, His means of grace. And fellowship.
Ministering through various means. Like...I have to share the Gospel. If I don't give continual testimony of who Christ is and what He's done--not just solely for me, not just self-referentially...but as revealed in His Word of all of us--things go really weird there, too.
Which is where being here, in this space, has been so vital at times. Fear of God, love and knowledge of Christ's worthiness, and real terror of what wrath awaits those who refuse to repent...compel. It's just a thing.
Very prayerfully embarked, ever.
There's been some very passing contemplation on not despising the day of small things, lately. Which, I need to reread Zechariah. And all the Word. Continually. Always. Again.
I remembered again today that a friend told me George Mueller used to read the Bible through at least seven times per year. I long to be that familiar with His Word, that steadfastly grounded in God's truth--as spending that much time dwelling in and reviewing and reviewing and being immersed in His Word, unto not just passing recognition of the breadth, but deepening knowledge.
And tonight, heard also of a region where people....common people, who didn't know history or anything technical or advanced...knew the Word so deeply and well that even the obscurely mentioned people in the Text were familiar to them, just as much as a neighbor. And same, of the various locations and events mentioned throughout the Word of God--known so intimately that it was akin to the knowledge of one's neighboring towns and recent experiences.
I want that. I want to just be able to be so devoted, Lord. What is of greater value? Nothing, but to be steadfast in the knowledge of truth and walking in the light with the Lord. What is a greater joy? Nothing, but to know Our God. What higher purpose could be found? None, really, compared to drawing so near to Him and becoming to filled with the knowledge of Him as to be able to plead all the more cogently and coherently and ardently with all the rest of us--as we all need continual reminder of truth, even those who know Him and love Him (though we have not seem Him...yet). All the more, desiring to plead according to whatever strength and clarity He will afford with those who are yet perishing. Christ is worthy of His portion. And they are running straight into Hell, otherwise.
And I know it's not just me. I'm nothing. Not even a little thing. Once forsaken, used to be the thought...even as my own earthly father a few years back told me he knew he could do nothing more for me, when I was a teen, and extricated himself from the attempt...
...forsaken...
...but not forever. I deserve death and eternal wrath and hell. Instead, He drew me back out of the hell and death I'd sought in the world--even courting death so many times: through recklessness, suicide attempts (numerous), engaging flagrantly with the demonic, and even entering into death briefly at times, like with the fall from the balcony in 2016...
...that last bit of time living in New Orleans has been on my mind again, recently. I'd gotten out of the bartending scene, but I was still effectively dwelling in the Quarter, "living the life," and I knew my days were numbered. Every day, fear of death was a constant companion, increasingly. I attempted suicide once that summer, just wanting to get it over with and be done with living in the shadow of that fear, that weight, that heavy, noxious, odious, horrid presence which suffuses all and occludes all hope and joy where regards those whose lives are under the reign of sin...
But He drew me out, instead. And drew me to Himself. Step by step. Initially, I remember having a conversation at a bar one day--not long before relocating--with one of my best friends. I was openly lamenting that I had come to realize that going back to be around family would mean having to go and be around church. And it made me feel slightly nauseated to even consider. But I knew it was unavoidable. And resigned myself to it.
Her parting gift to me stands testament to the nature of that conversation, bearing its mark overtly.
And I was manipulated into going to church. I'd already settled the matter before being confronted, so I didn't care about the manipulation. It was expected.
And I remember fearing. I really did think there would be flames or lightning. Or something, just...destruction. For me to dare to darken the halls of a church with my presence.
Bear in mind, though, I was still open to communing with the regular demon which had been a companion for years, at that point: A mentor of sorts, at times. With that presence being a reality (now rejected and renounced), the severity of what was expected seemed really reasonable. I mean, even the demons know and tremble at the reality of who God is. And that was my companionship, so yeah. I did know fear.
I was entreated one more time very openly to remain friends with satan, in 2013. Got this huge, heart-rending presentation--attempting to retain my sympathies. But I wasn't interested. It was more of the same of what I'd already seen and known. And moreover, it was revolting. Surprisingly.
All the more was I particularly disturbed at the "chance encounter" with another unexpected man at a Starbucks, this year. But I trust the Lord.
Anyways. Point being, I'd been entreated. I've been offered anything. Everything I "could want." Carte blanche. But I wasn't interested. There are always strings attached. And as it turns out, I'm not my own anyways, to give allegiance. I'd rather have truth, even were it to kill me.
'Cause either way it goes, I'd dead already. In so many ways. I was not supposed to be conceived, according to what I've been told. Medical aid wasn't sufficient, is my understanding. And then they prayed. And I ceased breathing and heart stopped when I was perhaps a year old. And, from what I gather, not many years after again.
And then numerous other brushes with death. The fall from the balcony being the most recent severe instance--during the fall, being confronted with the reality of my inability to decide life or death, and inability to even determine the condition of life: I submitted to God, "whatever Your will," and though the fall killed me and should have done... ...He spared my life. And not just that. I should be a paraplegic, without the ability to care for myself or function. And yet, those "marks" which remain are indelible yet largely invisible to others. All the more, they serve as a continual point of remembrance of my dependence upon Him, now.
I didn't start crying out to Jesus for salvation until 2010, though. Nearly a year after leaving New Orleans. Upon being lectured by police about the severity of the situation I'd placed myself in, as very easily one which could have been lethal (in that my recent company had already murdered others, according to their information). It was just a wake-up call to the reality that leaving New Orleans hadn't changed the actual problem.
The actual problem was (and is) me. I'm a sinner. And some sins are unto immediate physical death.
Fearing for my life again, I started humbling myself to ask for Jesus to help me, have mercy, save me. I asked a long-time friend who was (at that time) a professing Christian to pray with me. He did. And I felt some modicum of relief, but part of that was also in relation to the realization that my circumstances had been so dire that if I didn't do something drastic I was also very likely to lose housing.
Anyways. This is all far more than intended for the present.
Long story short, Jesus did deliver me. He had mercy on me. And continues to do so. He spared me, although I was a wretch in all ways. And still am, in so many ways...but not like I used to be. And I want to honor Him more, because I love Him. I love the Lord. And, yes--I know my love is nothing. Compared to His. But it's what I have to offer. My little bit of nothing, even being that which He's given to me...for if He hadn't loved me first, I would despise Him still. All the more then, do I delight to give back to Him that which He had given me. Paltry and insufficient and bare though it be, what I am and what I have is His. And I am blessed to receive, so all the more am I blessed to give...that my prayer then is that He would redouble my return unto me, that I may invest it all the more and bring even that much more to cast, even as pittance, at His blessed feet. And plead and drag any along with me, as I run to Him again and again.
I know the darkness. Someone in New Orleans once told me there were only really two types of people--darkness and light. And he told me I was light, and I despised Him for it overtly, though I think at the same time...something of hope clung to that possibility, for it to be such a memory. I shared the Gospel with him, last year, with that man. We hadn't corresponded for years. But I had been waiting and praying. And, however the Lord wills.
But I will plead with the Lord, even pleading with those whom He places me near. For whatever He wills.
Wherever, to whatever end. There's no reason, ever, to despise the day of small things. God will be glorified in all the earth, and that is our unwavering hope--a hope which is absolute. His Word will be accomplished. And we will rejoice.
