This has been one of those work-laden weeks (60 hours). Regardless, I do apologize for not posting. As much as I use this blog for personal expression, I also consider it a way to communicate my heart to my mothers and brothers and sisters around the globe, and it displeases me to think that I’ve been even more distant than usual.
This distance from you all, I think, is reflective of a distance within me: and reflecting on my history, my lack of writing can sometimes be an indicator of my lack of thoughtful introspection. I consider introspection a very important activity if I’m going to survive as a minister of the gospel, as a man in this world. It is the regular, honest, gentle appeal to my conscience in everyday life.
I recall one day watching a teaching from John Bevere when the Holy Spirit taught me about the importance of my conscience. Mr. Bevere was elaborating on an analogy of how repeated disobedience puts veils over a person’s eyes, until eventually he cannot even see himself accurately and he is utterly incapable of identifying, let alone repenting of, his own sin. It draws on a parallel lesson from the Proverbs of the slippery slope. The first act of disobedience causes a great disturbance in a person’s conscience, but if it is not heeded and similarly disobedient acts follow, then the disturbances become less and less and eventually his conscience becomes so weak that he may even be convinced that it does not exist or that it is only something related to ignorance or some kind of mental, superstitious bondage. The artist sings,
I am walking blind
So distracted that I don’t even feel when you hold me
When did I grow such a thick skin? (Blindside’s “When I Remember”)
Returning to Mr. Bevere’s analogy, the veils that a person continually puts over himself with each act of disobedience become thick and make him blind in due course, and he is even rendered unable to feel the pleasure that he sought or make the gain that he once desired.
The engaging and powerful message in the Blindside song that I mentioned above has led me to a new thought, or maybe an old and important one revisited and refreshing to ponder. Speaking to God again, the artist sings,
These days there is not much that will bring tears to my eyes
But when I remember who I am and who you are
When I remember
A cloud moves in, rain falls, thunder strikes, and sunshine breaks through the clouds. (idem)
To remember the promise, the commandment, the gift, the judgment, the presence of God—it is like a spring rain in a dry land and a river pouring over the thirsty soil of a person’s conscience. The conscience is revitalized by this return to God’s word. When I remember who I am and who God is, there is a break in the veil that I’ve set over my eyes, and suddenly I can see again what delights my soul. The conscience is always striving to restrain the flesh and break through the walls in our minds; I do believe that every person has such a thing built into him. I’m not entirely sure how to give an account for conscience theologically (Is it the same thing as “the knowledge of good and evil”? Is it “the fear of the Lord”?), but I have noted its activity in my life before and after the Lord first revealed Himself to me three years ago. I have noted the times in my life when I let myself ignore it, and how it quickly became a smaller and smaller influence in my mind when I did. I have noted how the still small whisper of the Holy Spirit overwhelmed the darkness inside; and how the memory of Jesus dying for my sins tore the veils that were pulled over my eyes, like the veil of the temple; and how the light shined through and exposed the hidden things within me; and how I could do nothing but dance when the chains fell from my wrists and feet and soul. I understand the artist who sings to the Lord,
Nobody moves me like you do
When I remember. (idem)
This distance from you all, I think, is reflective of a distance within me: and reflecting on my history, my lack of writing can sometimes be an indicator of my lack of thoughtful introspection. I consider introspection a very important activity if I’m going to survive as a minister of the gospel, as a man in this world. It is the regular, honest, gentle appeal to my conscience in everyday life.
I recall one day watching a teaching from John Bevere when the Holy Spirit taught me about the importance of my conscience. Mr. Bevere was elaborating on an analogy of how repeated disobedience puts veils over a person’s eyes, until eventually he cannot even see himself accurately and he is utterly incapable of identifying, let alone repenting of, his own sin. It draws on a parallel lesson from the Proverbs of the slippery slope. The first act of disobedience causes a great disturbance in a person’s conscience, but if it is not heeded and similarly disobedient acts follow, then the disturbances become less and less and eventually his conscience becomes so weak that he may even be convinced that it does not exist or that it is only something related to ignorance or some kind of mental, superstitious bondage. The artist sings,
I am walking blind
So distracted that I don’t even feel when you hold me
When did I grow such a thick skin? (Blindside’s “When I Remember”)
Returning to Mr. Bevere’s analogy, the veils that a person continually puts over himself with each act of disobedience become thick and make him blind in due course, and he is even rendered unable to feel the pleasure that he sought or make the gain that he once desired.
The engaging and powerful message in the Blindside song that I mentioned above has led me to a new thought, or maybe an old and important one revisited and refreshing to ponder. Speaking to God again, the artist sings,
These days there is not much that will bring tears to my eyes
But when I remember who I am and who you are
When I remember
A cloud moves in, rain falls, thunder strikes, and sunshine breaks through the clouds. (idem)
To remember the promise, the commandment, the gift, the judgment, the presence of God—it is like a spring rain in a dry land and a river pouring over the thirsty soil of a person’s conscience. The conscience is revitalized by this return to God’s word. When I remember who I am and who God is, there is a break in the veil that I’ve set over my eyes, and suddenly I can see again what delights my soul. The conscience is always striving to restrain the flesh and break through the walls in our minds; I do believe that every person has such a thing built into him. I’m not entirely sure how to give an account for conscience theologically (Is it the same thing as “the knowledge of good and evil”? Is it “the fear of the Lord”?), but I have noted its activity in my life before and after the Lord first revealed Himself to me three years ago. I have noted the times in my life when I let myself ignore it, and how it quickly became a smaller and smaller influence in my mind when I did. I have noted how the still small whisper of the Holy Spirit overwhelmed the darkness inside; and how the memory of Jesus dying for my sins tore the veils that were pulled over my eyes, like the veil of the temple; and how the light shined through and exposed the hidden things within me; and how I could do nothing but dance when the chains fell from my wrists and feet and soul. I understand the artist who sings to the Lord,
Nobody moves me like you do
When I remember. (idem)
1 comment:
wow.
(that is all.)
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