A Word for the Church: Water on Fire

Short and sweet this morning. The Lord gave me a specific word.

Let me tell you about a time I told God how it was going to be.

I had met someone pretty special (before I knew my now-husband), and within the span of approximately two weeks, I decided that that person was going to be the one who would always fill the role I'd built for him. I planned out our future, I perfected a timeline for our ministry, and I handed my agenda to the Lord. Here you go, God. Here's what I want. Sign on the dotted line.

You can imagine how the ending of that conversation turned out.

Looking back now, I see how very presumptuous I was. I don't think I would ever have dared to put my agenda before the Lord so blatantly and stubbornly, but my attitude eked out in words I had been taught all my life were the catchphrases, the buzzwords to use for the purpose of interceding for what surely must be God's will: "In Your Name," "I declare by faith," etc.

Most of you will have realized by the 3rd sentence of this post that my will should have aligned with God's will, and not the other way around, but it took me a little longer to see that. I was so certain of what I wanted that when God showed me my sign-on-the-dotted-line agenda wasn't what He wanted, I was devastated.

Here's one of the most interesting outcomes of that experience -- and it's actually an outcome that I wouldn't have missed for the world, because through it, He allowed His treasure to shine through the fissures and stress-cracks in my vessel. 

The outcome was a period of months where I both blamed God, argued with God, pleaded with God, was angry at God... and was dependent on God, fell into God's arms, clung to God, fully immersed myself in His care.

Two sides of a single coin. I ran away from Him, but He drew me to Him. I fought Him, but He held me tenderly. 

This morning, I braved my fears of Exodus 22 and read on. The Israelites are standing at the foot of Mt. Sinai, on the threshold of a new covenant with God. They are the inheritors of the Promised Land, still to be taken, they are the inheritors of the Abrahamic covenant -- a nation of millions, continuing to grow and prosper.

In the details of this chapter, God gives Moses some of the technicalities of this "standardized" covenant -- a laying out of terms and descriptions of Mosaic Law. The thing is... the Israelites aren't going to keep this law. That is, they're going to break faith with this covenant time and time and time again. 

Many times over, the Word likens the Israelites' relationship with God to a marital relationship -- where the bride is continually unfaithful, and the husband always brings her back (the whole story behind Hosea and Gomer). 

Each time the Israelites wander away and find themselves lost, they are both angry at God (Why did You do this to us?)... and dependent on God (Help us; we are lost without You!). They plead and argue with God, and they cling to Him.

Two sides of a single coin.

This morning, the Lord gave me a clear picture of a steaming tea pot, tipped over. From its spout poured hot liquid into a cup, while at the same time, a flame, like a candle's flame, wavered on the tip of the spout where the water emerged. 

The question stamped out in my mind: How can fire and water exist together?

The Lord took me to portions of Isaiah 45:7-12: "I [God] form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster; I, the Lord, do all these things... Woe to him who quarrels with his Maker, to him who is but a potsherd among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the Potter, 'What are You making?' Does Your work say, 'He has no hands'? Woe to him who says to his Father, 'What have You begotten?' Or to his mother, 'What have You brought to birth?' 

"This is what the Lord says -- the Holy One of Israel, and its Maker. Concerning things to come, do you question Me about My children, or give Me orders about the work of My hands? It is I Who made the earth and created mankind upon it. My own hands stretched out the heavens; I marshaled their starry hosts.'" 

In other words, God is God, and we are not God. How about that for a concept? 

And I thought, are we guilty of this? This year, are we guilty of telling God how our lives are supposed to look? Obviously, the world is supposed to be pandemic-free. Obviously, our nation is supposed to be the united states. Obviously, we are supposed to be the most influential country, the wealthiest country, the safest country, the most affluent country... Lord, where are You? Why did You do this to us? 

Why, why, are You so very far away?

I've said that. I've said: Lord, I can't see You here. I feel so distant from You right now. 

Ouch. And squirm. 

Because when the dust clears, when we strip off our blindfolds and look around, when our eyes adjust to the scene surrounding us, we realize: There He is.

He's standing at the marriage altar... waiting. 

It was the bride who had wandered away. With every claim for our agenda, we take a step farther away from His. With every announcement of our will be done, the echo of the Father's will grows more and more faint.

Lord, bring us to our knees. Whatever it takes. I mean it with all my heart: whatever it takes, Jesus, return us to that altar. It's our home. We should not be anywhere else. We accept Your will -- all of it, both the fire and the water, both the sun and the storm, both the wholeness and the brokenness. Even when we don't understand how this can be, we know that it is possible, because You are God, and we are not. We are Your vessels; shape us exactly how You've planned.