In Him, also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in Him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, Who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of His glorious name. Ephesians 1:13-14
I house the Holy Spirit. Christ in me. And I'm thinking this morning about how much room I allow there for Him to actually build a structure that will not fail. I have squeezed the Spirit into some very small corners and told Him to sit there and be quiet. Not knowingly. I wouldn't think to speak to Him that way. But that's what I've done, anyway. In my conversation with my Father this morning I was struck by the fact that I don't even remember life without His Presence in me. I was six when I asked Jesus into my heart...and I meant it! With all my heart! And I still remember the excitement that beat in my little chest. But I didn't do much big girl sinning before that time. So, I don't recall life without the Spirit, but I can talk all day about "grieving" Him. Of hearing the Spirit sob for me.
The women in my Bible study group are studying the book of John. We're in John 16 where Jesus promises to send the Spirit. And one of the younger women asked: "How do we know we have Him living in us?"
Good question. That's what being saved means. That Christ comes by the Holy Spirit to live within us. If we have given our lives over to Christ, asked Him to come into our hearts, He does. It's what changes us. If it doesn't change us, we aren't His. If we are still dead in our sins, walking down the same old path with the same old heart, we missed the connection somehow. "I don't always feel different," she went on to say. "I just wonder if He's living in me some days."
Isn't she honest? I love that about her. Because we all have those days...or, for me, years.
So I took us all to Romans 8. And here is where I land again this morning in thinking of how God's amazing grace goes on and on and on and on. Here is what God, the Spirit, is doing while we are weak and confused: The Spirit helps us with our weaknesses. We do not know how to pray as we should. But the Spirit Himself speaks to God for us, even begs God for us with deep feelings that words cannot explain. God can see what's in people's hearts. And He knows what is in the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit speaks to God for His people in the way God wants. The picture of the Spirit within me begging God to remember I'm His child, covered by the blood of Jesus, weak in my flesh, and though, undeserving of mercy, still a kid my Father, loves makes this computer screen hard to see because of the wash of tears that are spilling onto my keypad. Really? The Spirit of God in me, that I've often given such little space to breathe in the home that is my tent, sobs and begs God on my behalf. And I know that in the quiet moments of my greatest need I've heard Him there when I thought my heart would burst and my life would shred into a thousand pieces. And I know it's because of His countless pleadings that I was walked back up out of a horrible pit and set on solid ground with a new song in my heart.
I'm more likely these days to open up the doors and windows of this tent and air it out, letting in the sunshine, unafraid that something would be revealed to my heart-guest that I'd have to deal with. Not so worried about the roaches that will scatter in the brightness only to reemerge when I grow dim. My prayer is that the Spirit of God have a huge home in me, free to wander, to look in the closets and purge what's old and worn, even to look under the sink at the mess I've made there. I want Him to roam the rooms and stretch out on the couch...you know, enjoy the place! This tent will never be perfect. I know that. And for any who know me, it is clear I am a work in progress. But it is progress I'm after. Like a belly full of oatmeal on a cold morning, the Spirit of God fills my soul with His Presence. and I'm more content to allow Him to dwell there in joy.
I house the Holy Spirit. Christ in me. And I'm thinking this morning about how much room I allow there for Him to actually build a structure that will not fail. I have squeezed the Spirit into some very small corners and told Him to sit there and be quiet. Not knowingly. I wouldn't think to speak to Him that way. But that's what I've done, anyway. In my conversation with my Father this morning I was struck by the fact that I don't even remember life without His Presence in me. I was six when I asked Jesus into my heart...and I meant it! With all my heart! And I still remember the excitement that beat in my little chest. But I didn't do much big girl sinning before that time. So, I don't recall life without the Spirit, but I can talk all day about "grieving" Him. Of hearing the Spirit sob for me.
The women in my Bible study group are studying the book of John. We're in John 16 where Jesus promises to send the Spirit. And one of the younger women asked: "How do we know we have Him living in us?"
Good question. That's what being saved means. That Christ comes by the Holy Spirit to live within us. If we have given our lives over to Christ, asked Him to come into our hearts, He does. It's what changes us. If it doesn't change us, we aren't His. If we are still dead in our sins, walking down the same old path with the same old heart, we missed the connection somehow. "I don't always feel different," she went on to say. "I just wonder if He's living in me some days."
Isn't she honest? I love that about her. Because we all have those days...or, for me, years.
So I took us all to Romans 8. And here is where I land again this morning in thinking of how God's amazing grace goes on and on and on and on. Here is what God, the Spirit, is doing while we are weak and confused: The Spirit helps us with our weaknesses. We do not know how to pray as we should. But the Spirit Himself speaks to God for us, even begs God for us with deep feelings that words cannot explain. God can see what's in people's hearts. And He knows what is in the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit speaks to God for His people in the way God wants. The picture of the Spirit within me begging God to remember I'm His child, covered by the blood of Jesus, weak in my flesh, and though, undeserving of mercy, still a kid my Father, loves makes this computer screen hard to see because of the wash of tears that are spilling onto my keypad. Really? The Spirit of God in me, that I've often given such little space to breathe in the home that is my tent, sobs and begs God on my behalf. And I know that in the quiet moments of my greatest need I've heard Him there when I thought my heart would burst and my life would shred into a thousand pieces. And I know it's because of His countless pleadings that I was walked back up out of a horrible pit and set on solid ground with a new song in my heart.
I'm more likely these days to open up the doors and windows of this tent and air it out, letting in the sunshine, unafraid that something would be revealed to my heart-guest that I'd have to deal with. Not so worried about the roaches that will scatter in the brightness only to reemerge when I grow dim. My prayer is that the Spirit of God have a huge home in me, free to wander, to look in the closets and purge what's old and worn, even to look under the sink at the mess I've made there. I want Him to roam the rooms and stretch out on the couch...you know, enjoy the place! This tent will never be perfect. I know that. And for any who know me, it is clear I am a work in progress. But it is progress I'm after. Like a belly full of oatmeal on a cold morning, the Spirit of God fills my soul with His Presence. and I'm more content to allow Him to dwell there in joy.
No comments:
Post a Comment