He Draws Closer

New Year’s Eve.

Being the person I am, I have always been at odds with this day.  The idea of wishing in the “new” has been replaced in my heart with the prayer of agreement with what the Holy Spirit wishes to birth in His bride this coming season. The melancholy chant of “Auld Lang Syne” has many years ago been replaced with Keith Green’s classic “So You Wanna Go Back to Egypt” as I reflect on not what has passed, but what eagerly awaits the children of the Redeemer, and whether I truly want it.

Passages such as Phil 3:13 (“…forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead..”) and 1 Cor 13:11 (when I was a child, I spoke as a child, I thought as a child, I reasoned as a child, but when I became a man I put childish things behind me.”) well up inside me and it is of little surprise that the spirit that is in communion with His Spirit sees thing differently.

Nostalgia, tradition, customs… where do they take us? How many things still lie dormant within me that shackle me to the lineage and fallen mindset of man’s traditions rather than on Christ?

And so it is.. that New Year’s Eve finds me home, with my children in bed and a dim light by which I type these thoughts as I get ready to ask the Spirit of Truth to once more shine in my heart and set me free of… anything. Whatever He wants. Let this season be a season of more liberty. More Truth revealed. More joy.

More….Him.

And even so, the man which is dead in us (Gal 2:20) still whispers from the edges of that light. It demands an audience. When ignored it will scream, and ultimately, beg and cry to be heard. He pleads. He implores and asks me to be reasonable about my ever pressing on into the deeper things of God.

“Lets not get to carried away, David.”  The old man will tell me.

” We will lose our ability to minister to people, if we become too sold out. One must maintain balance. “

A lie.

I recall a season around this time of the year when the gentle guile and soothing voice of carnality wooed me toward looking back. Pain, loss, sorrow and grief filled the view of my soul until my heart was bursting. It was then that I cried out to my Savior for His mind, His thoughts, His heart and His vision.

This battle took place on a quiet night a couple years ago. The arena was my son’s room. In that evening, on the other side of a torn and rent heart, a heart that broke as the ground breaks before the exhaustive drought just preceding the latter rains of due season, I came away with a peace and Sabbath rest that has never left me.  I wrote about that experience and I hope it works its way into the hearts of the reader in the form of encouragement. That its words may minister calm and peace to the restless spirit would be a great gift to me.

The Bedroom

Brothers and sisters… we look forward. We press on. We rejoice, for the redemption of all the world draw closer with every breath we take.  Tradition has a place. Nostalgia has merit. But nothing… nothing, can remain exalted above the One who purchased us with His blood. If its not drawing us to Him, it will ultimately estrange us from a revelation about Him that He desires to impart. There can be only one way to see things. Its His mind in us that produces kingdom life.

I pray that every one of His children, and all who gaze upon this humble offering of exhortation, know His peace in the coming year as never prior, and above all else, know Him.

Maranatha…

I welcome all thoughts and feedback :)

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