I Am Not An Artist
Post finals studying acquiesced, Praise God (Taken with instagram)

Post finals studying acquiesced, Praise God (Taken with instagram)

If anything means anything there must be something meant for us to be.
Treading Paper, Thrice
The Forgotten Gospel

At this current moment this will not be a complete post:

The reason for this being because there are many more instances and passages that further support what I am about to say. But for the moment this is installment 1:

The Gospel is simple and yet mysteriously complex (as described by Paul himself). The Law was given by God. Sin which took advantage of our hearts turned our ambitions to fulfill the law into the opposite. We were dead in out sin. Christ came to fulfill the law for His sinners, His people, His children and His co-heirs. Once the law was fulfilled and the price paid to fulfill the righteous requirements of atonement through His life, death and resurrection the passage was made for His people to have communion with Him and the other 2 members of the Godhead once again. In fact! One of the members of the Godhead, The Holy Spirit, dwells within us if we are truly His.

How do we attain such an amazingly fulfilling experience, our true purpose for being created? We have faith in God.

Lost inside this idea of faith is the misconception of simple belief.

I can believe that the Dodgers are going to win the world series next season and have two responses:

-Know that they will win and be nonchalant.

-Know that they will win and go and get a $100,000 loan and bet on them to win, because I know they will (in my heart, I have faith).

Obviously this example breaks down at some point, but what I am driving at is the reaction to the faith.

If we are called to have faith in God and what His son did, this does not simply mean we stand on the sidelines and get prepared for Him to come back. Rather! we are called to be active, to be doers of the word, to be nonstop workers for His kingdom. The specifics of this are particular to each person.

Within this church we have now, where is our faith? Where is our action? Are we simply hearers of the word and not doers?

To my main point: Why do we not suffer?

Paul states in Romans 8 that we are co-heirs with Christ, adopted into His family, made sons of the Father. We are no longer to be slaves of sin, or slaves of fear, but we have received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry Abba Father (Romans 8: 15)

He then goes through His explanation that we are His sons, and co-heirs with Christ but CATCH THIS: “provided we suffer with Him in order that we may be glorified with Him.” Romans 8:17

At this point I challenge you (and myself): what areas have you suffered with Him? Why has this stipulation, this emboldened fine print, this contract, been overlooked by us all?

"Provided….."

We are called to be like Christ, Christ-like, we call ourselves “Christians” and yet we choose to overlook this. If you go on to read the rest of Romans 8, Paul encourages the believers of Rome that there is nothing that can separate us from God’s love or God Himself: whom then shall we fear?

There is nothing that can rip us from Him and yet we (I) cower knowing the suffering, the standing up for Him, the set apart life, and the all out evangelistic lifestyle he calls us to have will reap people into His kingdom. I connect this with my former post from Clive Staples Lewis:

It must be my duty, my sole goal as a human to strive for my neighbor to understand the eternality of His soul. It must be! I must think of others above myself and thus suffer for my neighbor and ultimately my God in accordance with the service we are called to.

Do we forget this gospel, the gospel that strove so hard to rope us from our sin and is still yet at work with in us to complete our sanctification until He come back?

May our lives be marked by suffering, for really, at that dark and dismal point, we shall be inexplicably (from human standards) filled with the Spirit and the subsequent joy of working for the Father.

In essence, Lord, make us understand that a co-heir inherits an equal portion of what you are to give us. You poured your wrath on your Son. He suffered for us. Help us understand we are co-heirs of that suffering. For at that point, we shall truly be glorified with Him

The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor’s glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken…There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations- these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit- immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.
The Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis

Sparing no expense
He made recompense
For all the earth
The story’s an offense
So get down from that fence
And bless or curse

He laid aside his crown
All our crimes he carried
Was lifted from the ground
With our burdens buried
The shadows all had flown
In the light diminished
He emptied out his lungs
Crying it is finished….

Listen to Me, Thrice
If you asked twenty good men today what they thought the highest of virtues, nineteen of them would reply, Unselfishness. But if you had asked almost any of the great Christians of old, he would have replied, Love. You see what has happened? A negative term has been substituted for a positive, and this is of more than philological importance. The negative idea of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing goods for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point. I do not think this is the Christian virtue of Love.
The Weight Of Glory, Clive Staples Lewis
My Dearest Spring

Dearest Spring,

I caught a glimpse of you today. One might say I was gawking, but, to be perfectly fair who has not taken the enjoyment of gazing upon your lush richness. Winter informed me of your arrival. She told me you had already arrived and were not yet welcome as long as she had residency. That cruel… well, she is a cruel someone. Her sweet seduction of snow and “bliss” captivate me year after year, but she is cold and her welcome is soon extinguished. I thank you for kindly driving her as far away as possible though I know she will pester even you for a fortnight more. Either way, your compassion is received with much gratitude. 

Sweet, fresh, crisp, clean, soothing; your scent encapsulates me in comfort and security. Where have you been my sweet, dear friend? Do you not miss our courtship? Have you not longed for our lengthy conversations? Do you not remember the long walks filled with joy and the cool nights we spent in each others arms? It seems as if our youthful endeavors have been forgotten and your jealousy for Summer has finally come to fruition. 

Do not worry about Summer! She is as cruel as Winter, but her residual effects are much more blistering. She is a flirt, a flapper, a floosy. She lends herself to the nearest passerby. Outwardly, she is attractive, sensual, seductive, even, and, to my shame, I have caught myself falling into her spell. I have on many occasions had to drag your brother, Autumn, from her clutches. He is a sweet, though highly ignorant, boy. He shares your artisticness, you know. His choice of colors is much more limited depending on where he is though, but, By Jove! does he work intricately. I am sure you are proud of him. He has always looked up to you, with good reason. You are the master of the pallet, the worker of life, the consummation of creativity. 

Forgive me, my dearest, your cousins, Winter and Summer, shall never own my heart! It is my profession as Inn Keeper to accommodate all who need lodging. And as to the matter of lodging I heard you were still nomadically searching for a place to stay. My inn is always open to dear old friends, and to be quite honest, the only reason it is open to your cousins is so that I may hear of your endeavors. I am jealous for your company. So, my love, please, for a young man’s heart, stay for a while.

Yours,
     The Inn Keeper