Indeed, I cannot

But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot. -Jeremiah 20:9

Just read this verse.  Insane, isn't it?  Is that how I feel when I am told to contain Him?  Is that how I feel when I am told to hold it in, to calm down a bit, to act a little more restrained?  Is that how I feel?

Do I feel weary?  Does it even strike a place in my heart?  Does it make me even think for a second that it's not right or that it's not natural or even that it feels kind of funny?

Do I feel the fire shut up in my bones, does it burn my heart to the core like a flame screaming inside of my skin just to break free?  Is that the type of pressure that I feel?

Or could I go on like any other day?

Could I go on?

I have been thinking a lot about the phrase "I can't live without your presence" because a song I have been listening to lately says that sentence in the bridge.  And I really liked it.  My ears perked up a bit and I sang along and I liked it.  Yeah, I liked it.

And then I started thinking about it.  Then I started to ponder it in my heart and it hit me.  The Holy Spirit hit me.

The sentence doesn't say "I can't live as well as I want to without your presence" or "Life isn't as fun without your presence" or "I can't call on you when I need you without your presence" or even "My Sunday mornings are free without your presence."

It doesn't say "I don't like it without your presence but I can still live."
Or "I miss you and all but I can go on without your presence."

And so I got to thinking about how I literally think without His presence... I could not live.

I could not breathe, I could not think or act or talk or move.  I would toss an turn in my bed at night for I could not sleep without having Him in my life.  I wouldn't be myself.  I wouldn't know what to do.  My identity would be in major crisis and everything on which I have built my life would be shattered and I would inevitably fall to the ground, left lying on top of the pieces of rubble.

I would be confused and disoriented and unsure.  I would be tired and drained and hopeless.  My head would probably snap right off at the pace of my neck twisting and turning, just looking, just looking for Him.  Somewhere, any sign of Him, His shadow, His breathe, even just to hear His voice.  I need it.  I need Him.

And there are people who don't have Him.

How do they do it?

No, really.  It's this serious.  It's not just that I can call on God when I need Him or laugh with Him when something funny happens that only He sees or cry out to Him when I am desperate and alone.  It's His presence.  It's the way He's always there and never leaves.  It's that at any given time I have an army of angels surrounding me protecting me against the enemy.  It's times like this moment now where I am alone in a coffee shop and am completely satisfied in Him and have nothing better to do but write to Him out of worship. He's here.  Times where I am walking and the wind is blowing and there is nothing on my mind in particular.  Or times when I am trapped behind a cubicle in the library and want to be anywhere but there, but I know He's there too.  It's sitting in my room by myself every morning, drinking in His word and just talking to Him like He is right there.  Because He is.

It's not only those extreme times.  It's those times, too.

It's times when thoughts of my past are completely shameful.

It's times when thoughts of my present are completely confusing.

It's times when thoughts of my future are completely frightening.

It's times in all this change.  And one thing remains.

So there is this stillness in the midst of war.  There is this peace in the middle of chaos.  There is this rest in the middle of busyness.  That's Him.  That's His presence.

And when I lay my head to sleep at night, He is there.  And when I wake up in the morning I imagine Him looking over me saying, "Good morning, sunshine!"

I can feel it.  I can feel His presence.  And sometimes I can't.  But I have this hope and this trust and this hidden, secretive feeling ingrained deep down in the calcium of my bones that says "I'm here."

There is this intimate connection between Father and Child, Rescuer and Rescued, Redeemer and Redeemed, Sinner and Savior.

There is this connection, this indestructible bridge that connects God and me.  Forever.  The cross.   And I have been sealed by His promise.  I am His.  Forever.

There is the Holy Spirit, living inside of me and it will never move to a new house or get tired of me or get fed up with my consistent disobedience or pride or discontentment or unbelief.  Grace overflows from this Spirit and fills the whole neighborhood within me and it bubbles out of me until I taste and see and realize that He is there.  I realize that I have no other choice but to respond to this grace, to move, to smile, even.

His presence.  I could not live without it.  I would be crawling on the dirt floor out of starvation and suffocation, weary and lost.  Desperate and hopeless.  Drained and dreary.  I would be nothing.  I would be useless.  I  would be pulling myself with every last bit of strength that I had.  I would collapse on my flimsy arms, lying in the puddle of my own tears whimpering, "I can't live without You, God."

What a humbling picture.  Is that how much I depend on Him?  Is that how much I value His presence?  Is that how much I treasure the Treasure?

My skin would explode, pore by pore, my bones would be clanging with the pain of suppression. My spiritual stomach would be growling for Bread, surpassing the pangs until it finally shrinks and shrivels up.  The Spirit would be pounding, kicking, screaming inside of my heart like someone locked alive in a casket, being lowered to their grave.  Pounding.

Tell me to hold it in.

I will tell you, "Indeed, I cannot."

LMB

The experience

Good Friday.  It's Easter season.  What does that mean?

On Monday, Easter is over.  The day will be passed.  Easter is over.  What does that mean?

I like to think that there is no difference.
I like to think that Easter is everyday.
I like to think that resurrection is recurring.
Daily.
Moment by moment.

What is the difference between a day set aside for celebration and family and church and sunrise services and chocolate bunnies and the next day of our lives and from then on?

As a person who is directly affected by the resurrection, what is the difference?
As a person who is forever changed by the blood of the Lamb, what is the difference?
As a person who is constantly redeemed and refined and renewed, what is the difference?

As a sinner, what is the difference?

It's not enough just to know about Easter.  It's not enough just to have head knowledge of it, to know all the theology behind it, the history.  It's not enough to know Easter.  We must experience it.

Let us experience Easter.
This year and forever more.

We have been saved!  We have been rescued!  He died for us and rose again and we pass by Him as He hangs on the cross.  We look at Him one Sunday as a Savior and forget about it the rest of our days.  We pass by the tree on the hill.  We pass by.

But blood can cause a scene.  Blood can turn heads and make you stop in your tracks.  Blood can make you do a double take, turn your head and look back and point and see and say, "What is going on there?"

And this is not any blood, this is perfect blood, this is blood of a sinless Man.  And then you find out that the Man is dying because of you.  So your eyes get wide and you thank Him once and walk away.

Our lives will never be the same.  We will never be the same.  The death, the gruesome, ugly, chilling death that sends shivers up my spine, makes my knees weak and my eyes water when I stop and think, "That Man loves me!"


That Man loves me and here He is dying!
Dying because of me!

How He suffered and died.  He bore all this grief that I feel every day, He bore all the shame that consumes me and suffocates me and makes me stay up toss and turn night after night.  It's heavy.  It's so heavy.  The justifications.  The idols.  And all these days I turn my face from Him and all these moments I lie and lust and cheat and steal.  The instant I give into temptation and the denials I serve to Him daily, I beautify them and place them on a platter and serve them right to Him.  Right to His face.

And He takes them.  How can He take them!  He takes them onto Himself.  He bears them on his back and with every stone we throw, He feels it.  It's just another sin He has to carry. It's just another sin.

It's just another day we live in disobedience.  It's just another idol we worship.  It's just another area of life we can't give up.  We say we can't give it up.  We won't.  It's just a little thing.  We say we will change tomorrow.

It's just another day.

It all adds up.  He carries it on His back and it gets heavy.  He is beaten and battered and bruised and mocked.  People rebuke Him, challenge and test Him and tell Him to come down.  If He is really the Lord can not He just come down? Can not He save Himself?

But He chose to save us instead.

We are the mockers. We are the spitters. We are the stoners. We are the sinners. We are the redeemed.

He redeemed us!  He gave us life when we had none!  When we were dead in our sins He revived us!  By His last breath we breathed our first.  The saints rise up when His head hangs down.  This is our life.  This is our Savior.

This is our Savior.  This is why we live.

He carried the weightiest burden of the world to deliver the weightiest truth to the world.


He chose me.
How could He chose me?


We have no other choice but to spend the rest of our lives pursuing this God.

He was satisfied with the will of the Father.
We aren't satisfied with Him.
He chose to pray instead of sleep.
We chose to sleep instead of pray.
So much sleeping.
He humbled Himself.
We raise ourselves up.
He carried others' burdens.
We turn from the troubles of others.
So much turning.
He loved.
We hate.
He was perfect.
We are sinful.
So much sinning.
He died.
We live.

So much living.

And it doesn't stop at the cross.  The grace doesn't stop there.  By the power of God, Jesus rose again!  He rose and lived and lives today.  The earth shakes with His power and the boulders can't bear to stay in place.  He is alive!  He is alive and death is no more.

A death like His cannot just be considered. A death like His means complacency is impossible.  A death like His deserves all of us.  It deserves all of our praise, every bit of our hearts and our souls and our deepest, deepest dreams and fears and insecurities and worries.  He handled death.  He can handle that.

Trust me child, I can handle that.

Our graves are being dug and our energy drained.  Our arms are being crossed and our eyes shut.  Our bodies are being lowered and our lives decayed.

But He says No!

He says there is no fear in death, He says there is no death at all but only life and life in all its fullness!  And He says it's eternal!

He says there is only Love and redemption and resurrection.

Everyday.

He reaches His hand down to us and pulls us out of these tombs.  Jesus doesn't do tombs.  He doesn't like tombs very much and He knows you won't either.  He pulls us out of these graves and makes us live.

And it's all because He died.
It's all because of Him.

It's not because of us.  When did the resurrection become ours to control?  When did Easter become about us?  When did it start being about our preferences?  When did we get to start choosing when to live and when to sleep?  When did we start worshiping this fuzzy feeling we get when we go to church on Sunday and read the Easter story once out-loud with our suits and ties and new dresses and baskets filled with candy and flowers and our schedules to abide by and our time constraints to meet and this and that...

When did we start living comfortable?
The King wore a crown of thorns and a robe of bruises and lashes and nails in His hands and His feet and a hole in His side.  He died on a cross!  That is not comfortable!

What about our Savior!  Have we experienced His life for us?  We worship a God who died to give us the greatest gift of all.  Grace.  We worship a God who died with our names on His mind.  We can run to Him.  We can talk to Him.  We are His because He bought us.

Adopted as sons and daughters.
We say thank you one day and walk away.

But this changes everything.

Let this reality sink into your heart today.  He loves you.  Marinate your heart in this love.  Let the resurrection permeate your heart to the core.  Let it fill the emptiest part of your heart.  Let it bring you to your knees and fill your eyes with tears.  Let it stir inside of you, His blood rushing wildly through your veins.  He loves you.  Meditate on this.  He bought our lives and gave them to us.  And we keep them for ourselves?  They are His.  It's all Yours, God.  He deserves it all.

Glory to the One!  God's murdered Son!  He took our sin and shame!  He is our hope and peace! Hallelujah to the One who died and rose and lives today!  Praise be the Him in the highest!

We are set free because of Him.  Free.

We have life because of Him.  Life.

It's not enough to know about Easter.  Experience it.  Every single day.

LMB

...I say "we" in this post because I mean me, too.