the weight of glory

easter, two-thousand fifteen

~ kwyatt1247 ~ Leave a comment

I was a dead hopeless wanderer and never again do I have to take a breath not knowing astronomic love or abundant freedom. I will never have to know what life is like without it.

Jesus had it all; as a man, He never knew of anything other than a rich and abundant life with His Father. But He had to go without it on the cross. Can you imagine the agony? Having to experience a breath of life without unconditional love or grace in which all you can muster is a cry of “my God, why have You forsaken me?”

disbelief

~ kwyatt1247 ~ Leave a comment

I spent my spring break in South Padre. In fact, I’ve spentmy spring break in Padre for the past three years. I’ve seen God move mightily.I’ve seen His scripture come to life, and I’ve felt the breath of the Spiritbreathe life over an island that was damned.

Yet, last week (and this week) I was plagued with disbelief in a way that has never made me so sick.

By disbelief, I mean the belief that falls short in God using me. The belief that says He is holding out on me. The belief that says I have no purpose here. The belief that says I’ll find one somewhere else.

“Help me with my disbelief.” A simple prayer as brutal and honest as the cross that I was wrestling with.

I can’t help but wonder if disbelief was just as much a part of a disciple’s life as belief was. I look at Peter who was close to Jesus, Peter who not only denied Jesus three times, but was the rock on which the church was built. Peter, who went up on a mountain to see Jesus transformed, also went up on a mountain only to fall asleep while praying during one of the most climactic moments in history. Peter, whose feet walked on water with Jesus, also sank out of fear He wouldn’t keep him. A man who physically walked with Jesus battled disbelief.

Isn’t Peter’s lack of trust in Jesus to keep him safe on the water the same as my belief that Jesus is holding out on me? Isn’t all of this disbelief rooted in the lie that He isn’t good? And doesn’t doubting His goodness mean that I’m distrusting the exact manifestation of His existence?Goodness.

Disbelief must be acknowledged in regards to the distrust that burned Eden. “Did God really say?”

It’s easy to play the mute. What believer wants to contradict their character and confess unbelief? But the beauty of all of this is: Jesus was brutally slaughtered on a cross to make it acceptable for a believer to know disbelief. That’s the kind of love I will only find in an upside down kingdom; disbelief begetting belief.

Peter’s lack of faith in Jesus to keep him safe on the water is what led him to pray the shortest, but one of the most powerful prayers in history: “Lord, save!”

As a good Father, God knew I would need more than an explanation for my questions, but an experience to change my questions completely. The crucifixion does that. It takes the focus off my insecurities in myself and nails them to the cross.

Doubt of my purpose transforms into the fact that Jesus wouldn’t have willingly given up Himself for a void life. God wouldn’t have degraded Himself to the form of a man in order to walk with me, if He wanted to withhold good things from me now.

Today, I still pray that prayer. Although the cross took the penalty and the power of sin (anything that separates me from God), I’m still in this world which is full of it. It still grabs at me, and I still willingly give into it sometimes. But He’s not surprised. He doesn’t say “Really? After all these years and all we’ve been through, you still don’t get it?” He walks me quietly to the cross and lets me sit in the presence of belief. Because when He died for me, I think He truly believed that I would say “yes.” And that was enough for Him

the weight of glory

~ kwyatt1247 ~ Leave a comment

Preface: I’ve been learning about the glory of the Lord recently. These are just my honest thoughts about it. They’re messy and confusing to read through, but I needed to write them down. Also, usually by doing so, I can turn them into a poem easier. 

“Then I saw in the right hand of him who was seated on the throne a scroll written within and on the back, sealed with seven seals. And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice ‘Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?’ And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it, and I began to weep loudly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. And one of the elders said to me, ‘Weep no more; behold the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David has conquered so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.’” Revelation 5:1-5

I’ve been learning more about the glory of the Lord: the magnitude of his limitless power; the astronomic diversity his presence manifests itself; his incomparable holiness that brings man, made of iron and dust, falling to his knees- the weight of his glory.

This is the first time I do not haste when I take a drink. Instead I let the living water touch my cracked and bleeding lips and saturate my skin as I feel matter itself rush down my throat. I drink and I’m satisfied.  I feel the Spirit stirring in the atmosphere, making his presence known and the glory of the Lord illuminate the greyness I often feel. Reflections of light are dancing on the surface of this water because it’s alive.

Because it brings life.

I know this to be true, and that’s why the revelations of holiness concede justified anger. There are so many times when I throw a royal fit and I scream and kick and beat my fists against his solid chest of righteousness because I don’t understand how my loving and gracious Father can let love die between a couple of twenty years, can let a woman taste the force of a man’s fist, can let children be eaten up by their own stomachs…

The list goes on. I don’t comprehend.

Come into play: free will. Not just me, but every single person on earth that has ever lived, lives, and will ever live, has the gift of free will and whether we like to believe it or not, the way I exercise my freedom will often affect your life and vice versa. My God isn’t an advocate for violence or hunger or suffering. He’s an advocate for freedom; He’s given us the freedom to live as we choose.

There is blood on my hands.

But God.

I choose you and I say ‘I do.’ I’m draped in robes of righteousness. I take the weight of glory on as my own, my responsibility to magnify, and it becomes even more pressing. It’s hard to breathe and hard to stand. Your weight of glory is so heavy, God, and I am to bear it? But this weight of glory is something my hands cannot weigh or hold for its overflowing abundance of holiness is something that burns me to the touch. My eyes cannot see it for it is blinding. It’s not a matter of a lacking in human capacity- it’s a matter of humans simply can’t.

It (You) cannot be defined. It (You) cannot be limited.

Come into play: faith.

C.S. Lewis said “This is why He warned people to ‘count the cost’ before becoming Christians.” I’ve learned that this is a radical man’s faith- one that goes against every natural instinct I have. I’ve learned I’m in love with a lamb that is also a lion. I’ve learned there will be a wedding day, but first a war, and like with any war, there will be casualties. I’ve learned that the more I fall in love with the flawless, holy, immaculate character; I discover just how depraved, corrupt, and perverted I am. I’ve learned although I will spend my time in this present flesh striving to reflect your pure blinding light- a light void of darkness- it will never be so.

I remain unworthy.

But that’s why I’m here: because I know you’re the only one who is. It’s a hard process I don’t fully understand, and I can’t articulate it beautifully, or simply, or even at all.  I can’t measure the weight of his glory. And sometimes it sucks. It sucks to play the role of “believer” when all I want to be is the “seer,” but my God, it’s worth it.  For one day, I will see.