Faith · Uncategorized

What Child is This?

Today’s post is a nod to my pastor, John King, and a sermon he delivered a couple of weeks ago. You can watch it here.

I used to fancy myself as an easy-going, roll-with-the-punches kind of person who loved change and adventure. Truth be told, the older I’ve gotten, the more I realize that I am not nearly as flexible and welcoming of change as I would like to think. In fact, my stubbornness regarding the subject is not so unlike that of a pig I once knew.

The fact is, life is changing. Some of it’s good. Some, not so much. Either way, I’m finding it challenging to deal with much of it. But I’m reminded that God is still God. The following four points are those laid out by my pastor along with my own two cents.

1) . Lay claim to the nearness of God. “You will never be where God is not.”

In fact, Psalm 139:7,8 says the same thing:

Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.”

Just because it doesn’t feel like God is there in the middle of our chaos doesn’t mean He isn’t. Emotions are God-given and have their place, but when the rubber meets the road, truth is what we fall back on. And the truth is that God will never leave us or forsake us.

2). Rely on the character of God.

In his sermon, Pastor King told the story of JJ Jasper who was given some devastating news that he was going to have to tell his family. Before he did, though, he sat them all down and asked them to start listing off everything they knew that was good and true about God.

This is quite possibly the most valuable exercise we can do for several reasons:

  • It’s an exercise in recalling what God has done for us up to this point. What characteristics of God has He displayed in the past? How has He answered prayer in the past? How have you seen Him work in your life?
  • It’s an exercise in renewing our mind: It replaces the doubts, questions,  and worry we have regarding our situation and replaces it with truth.
  • It’s an exercise in reciting His praises. There is nothing quite like singing the praises of God to drag us out of our pit of self-pity and into the realm of truth.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.  What you have learned[e] and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you” (Phil. 4:8-9, ESV).

3). Pray your pain out.

“When you’re going through tough times, it’s not a time to stop praying. It’s not a time to pray sweet little prayers.”

We have the freedom to tell Him how we feel. He already knows anyway. I have found myself over the years praying something like this: “Lord, I don’t know what to pray anymore. I feel like the magnitude of my situation requires words I don’t have, that the ones I’m using are just not reaching your ears, that possibly my situation is too big for you.”

Ever felt that way? Ever wondered if your situation is the one situation that will trip God up?

“But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God” (Romans 8:25-27, ESV).

Tell me one other belief system in the world whose god, in spirit form, intercedes on behalf of his followers when they’re too distraught to know what to say. There are none. Only our God is so intimately involved with the daily goings-on of His people who even when words fail them, he fills in the gaps. Amazing.

4). Don’t isolate yourself.

I will admit that when things get hairy, my initial reaction is to hibernate, to hole up in the deepest corner of my house and sulk. The last thing I want is to be surrounded by other humans with just as many problems as me especially if it’s other people who have contributed to my current state of frustration. Besides the fact that this is a case of me pointing one finger at someone else with three pointing back at me (immaturity at its best), it’s also unbiblical. We are not an island meant to do life alone.

“And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works,25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near” (Hebrews 10:24-25, ESV).

Adoption into the family of God comes with unparalleled perks. Just as the Holy Spirit speaks for us when we can’t, the family of God is a built-in support system for whatever we’re going through. Don’t run from the one thing that God designed so specifically for the way He made us. We are relational. We need each other.

What Child is this? The simple truth is this:

The Child is everything we need. There is no substitute for Jesus. God’s plan of redemption is complete in this Child.  We don’t need, nor can we, add anything to Him. He’s completely perfect. Completely redemptive. Completely restorative, loving, all-encompassing, not lacking in anything, completely gracious, merciful, and good.

I pray this Christmas will be especially meaningful to you as you remember God’s great Gift of hope to us. Merry Christmas.

 

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An Ode to Christmas Trees | Blogmas 2017

I had the opportunity to be part of Blogmas with some of my blogging friends. In case you missed this post from three years ago, I resurrected after determining it was too perfect a fit for the theme my friend, Jaclyn, was going for. So I resurrected it, and it appeared on her blog.
Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

see all Blogmas 2017 Creators

By Kathryn Nielson

Like most kids, I grew up loving Christmas. Hands down the best part about the whole season was decorating the Christmas tree. My mom and dad would drag it up from the basement, pull it out of the box and assemble it, fitting the branches into their color-coordinated holes in the base. I loved it. We doused it with colorful felt ornaments, homemade ornaments, sparkly ornaments, colored lights and a truckload of silver tinsel. To my young eyes its grandeur stood unmatched dwarfing every other ornament placed around the house.

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But…there was always this niggling frustration in the back of my head. The tree wasn’t real. I don’t know where the obsession with real trees came in. I didn’t know anyone who had one. But the oddity of placing something real from the forest in the middle of my house taunted me.

In moving to an apartment, to college, and back to apartment, I had all shapes and sizes of trees. Short trees, emaciated trees, skinny trees. No matter what they looked like, they all had one thing in common: they were fake. I wanted a real one, and it was a dream that would not die.

Enter Bruce, my husband, the quintessential New Englander. Unlike my history with fake trees, he’d never had one. He knew they existed, but no true self-respecting New Englander would actually have one-at least not as their only tree. One could accessorize with the copycat version, but to have a plastic evergreen heralding the season in one’s home was unthinkable.

Our first Christmas came two months after we were married. We decided to spend it alone in our little apartment watching Christmas movies, eating steak, and gazing at what I insisted would be a real tree to which my husband responded with a look of is there any other kind?

So one Sunday afternoon while my sister was in town we set off for a tree farm to pick out our own tree and cut it down. Not only would the blessed thing be real, but Bruce was going to show me what picking out a tree was really all about. Ritualistic in nature, it involved the tedious task of finding it, cutting it down, mounting it to the top of the car and driving it home. Lest you think all trees are created equal, you couldn’t be more wrong. A Fraser Fir, considered by my husband as the Cadillac of trees, was simply the only option. The whole thing was incredibly romantic, and I almost couldn’t take it.

About an hour and a half into the search, I got a little tired. We walked all over the stinking farm looking for the perfect tree. In my head, they were all perfect because they were real and big and smelled like Christmas. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this painstaking search for perfection would be how my sweet my husband would research all future purchases from baby strollers to sandwich bread. I could appreciate that he excelled at the skill of tree shopping. Apparently, he was so good at it that his family would not purchase a tree until he was home from college on break and able to go get it, no matter how late in the season it was. It was impossible for anyone to pick out a tree like Bruce. So I’d been told.

Weary of the whole thing, my dream of authentic foliage dashed by the sheer absurdity of the search, I suggested that a fake one from Walmart would suffice and marched off in the snow back to the car with my sister in tow. We waited another hour and a half. Finally, from the distance I saw a tree moving toward us. As it got closer I realized that buried under this mass of foliage was my husband manhandling this thing proud as a peacock. We waited another half hour as he hoisted onto our little Ford Tempo, triple checking the bungee cords to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere while we drove home.

To say that it was large would be an understatement. It literally took up most of a the wall where the sliding glass door sat, protruding out into the living room leaving no one to wonder what season we were in. I could not wait to get my hands on that tree and decorate it, bringing to life what I was feeling inside.

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The decorating of a Christmas tree is much like accessorizing an outfit. “Forest fashion” represents the “wearer” to the outside world. In this instance, my “forest friend” donned blue Christmas balls, red tinsel, and big white lace bows leftover from my wedding representing my newlywed bliss and diehard patriotism.

In my humble opinion, no more beautiful a tree could be found anywhere. Every morning as I sipped my coffee, I would sit and stare at its blinking lights and be taken back to that beautiful childhood tree-though fake-that I found so mesmerizing.

In the 24 years we’ve been married, only twice have my husband and I ignored our tree standards, disappointed both times. In moments of strict frugality, my romantic visions of the perfect tree were thwarted by the price, and we succumbed to plastic simplicity one year and something real but very pokey the next year. We decided that like saving for Christmas presents, saving for a tree that lasts a month at best, then dies and is thrown to the curb, is a priority that cannot be ignored.

These days my house is filled with trees; one in my bedroom decorated with all of the ornaments created by my kids through the years; one in the dining room, white with lime green, fuchsia and turquoise decorations, a nod to my lime green walls; two in my daughter’s room because there is no other person more obsessed with Christmas than she; one in my son’s room, and finally the rock star of them all, the big Fraser Fir in the living room crammed with white lights, Nielson ornaments tracking the years we’ve been a family, cat ornaments because next to the Christmas tree in importance is the cat (of course) and a variety of others we’ve collected over the years. Take all the other decorations away, and you can still eek out a bit of Christmas cheer. But take away the tree and none of the other decorations make sense. Plus, where would the presents go?

Whatever makes Christmas merry for you, enjoy it with your family, rejoice in it, and for heaven’s sake, get a decent tree!

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ABOUT ME

When I was a kid, I remember lying in bed one night and, to my great disappointment, was struck by the realization that there simply wasn’t enough time in life to do everything that I’d dreamed of doing.  I wanted to get married and have kids, be a war correspondent, or a famous writer living the life of a recluse in a New York City high rise accompanied only by my cats. I wanted to travel the world. I wanted to be Asian and speak fluent French.

As I’ve gotten older, the list of things I want to experience has gotten bigger and includes owner of a cat cafe, living out of a backpack and working remotely, complete location independence, being a contestant on the Amazing Race. And assuming Jesus has an affinity for coffee, my dream job in the Millennial Kingdom is to be His barista.

What does all of this have to do with blogging? Simple. This is the place where I write about all of the things that interest me in an effort to curb my insatiable appetite for coffee, cats, minimalism, simple living, money management, and travel. First and foremost, though, it’s the place where I sort out what God is teaching me about living an authentic Christian life. Hopefully, you’ll find something here that piques your interest.

 

Faith · Uncategorized

How An Attempted Ban on Bump Stocks Got Me Thinking About the Miracle of Faith

On the radio the other morning, I listened as the commentator gave a rundown of local news, everything from the impending first frost to legislation over the ban on bump stocks. It was a quote regarding the latter subject that piqued my attention.  In response to passing a ban on bump stocks, Illinois state Rep. C.D. Davidsmeyer had this to say:

“You’re turning law-abiding citizens into criminals,” he said.

That single sentence played over and over in my head all day. Maybe it’s because we’re studying Romans this year in bible study, and my heart has been reminded of grace and without it I am a simple criminal. Maybe it’s because we’re hours from celebrating the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther’s 95 theses and the beginning of the Reformation.

Whatever the reason, I was struck by that quote and continue to be so for two reasons. First, despite our law-abiding tendencies, apart from grace we simply remain criminals next to a holy God.

“For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law could not do in that it was weak through the flesh, God did by sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, on account of sin: He condemned sin in the flesh,  that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit” (Romans 8:2-4).

As if His dying on the cross to fulfill the Law’s requirements wasn’t enough, that was merely the beginning. It was enough that every slap of the whip and pound of the nail through soft flesh was payment for every evil thought, unkind word, ungodly motivation I have indulged in over my lifetime.

But it doesn’t stop at the cross, and it is this second part that I find stunning. He finishes His work of salvation by not just offering me the gift of going from criminal to forgiven through unmerited grace, but then extending another gift: faith. The faith to not only believe that all of this is true but to accept it as such and believe.

When I was teaching my kids to pick up their toys, I would take their small hands in mine, walk them to the pile of toys and one by one, walk them through the process of picking up each toy. Closing their hands around the toy, I walked them over to the toy box and opened their hands where it would slide down their fingers and into its designated spot.

In the same way, God reaches down, takes the curled fingers of our clenched fists and opens them one by one until they are reaching back to His.

Ephesians 2:8 says it best.

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (ESV).

The simple truth is this: as humans, we take part in a myriad ofcactivities over the span of our lives; activities that get things done, accomplish goals, and change the world. Let’s marvel at the one thing we will never be credited for doing, having the faith to accept Christ’s gift of salvation. We are simply too broken and rebellious to ever accept the life-saving act of Christ without His intervention. Praise God for the completeness of His work.

Faith · Uncategorized

Angel Army

I had the opportunity to contribute a blog post for 31 days of Halloween on the blog, mnbernardbooks.wordpress.com. 
Each writer picked a “creature” and wrote about it in any style they wanted. I chose angels and wrote a story loosely based on an experience I had in high school. Enjoy!

https://mnbernardbooks.wordpress.com/2017/10/16/angels/

The door of the yellow Chevette came swinging back toward the passenger in response to the swift kick she’d given it.  Throwing out her acid-washed denim covered leg, she stepped out and thrust her right hip against the door, swiveling to grab her bags.

“You really need to get this door fixed,” she said to the driver.

“I know,” yawned her friend. “My dad said he’d look at it one of these days.”

“Am I the only one who mentions it?”

“You’re the only one who complains about it.”

“Figures. Thanks for the ride.”

“Sure. See you tomorrow. And don’t forget I want to borrow that dress you bought tonight.”

“I suppose it’s the least I can do for free taxi service.” She kicked the door behind her with her left foot and headed for the entrance to her building.

Evening air blew crispy leaves across her path as she made her way to the building entrance. Her tall blonde bangs bent back at the winds’ pressure. The royal blue discs hanging from her earlobes fluttered in the breeze. Standing under the building’s only light, she piled her belongings under her left arm and reached for the door. Cool metal felt good on her hand as she pulled open the door and entered the building heated in a temperature a bit too ambitious for the season.

The stench of stale urine gripped her nostrils. Sighing she wondered when the manager would ever wash away the stream that had dried days ago between the first and second floor landings. She dragged her tired body up the three flights of stairs stopping at the door that would take her to the third floor hallway. Her eyes rested on the walls of the landing, taking a minute to register. Their dull white shone in superficial brightness against the rich red gloss splattered across them.

From the left wall the spray traveled over the hallway door and onto the right wall where it stopped and hung in three strands halfway down before drying midstream.

She slowly let out the breath she’d been holding as she looked from side to side at the scene in front of her. Just mere feet from her stood the door to the small two-bedroom apartment she shared with her mom and younger sister. The problem lay in the fact that it was behind the door she now stood in front of, and not knowing what might be waiting on the other side caused overwhelming anxiety.

She looked behind her at the three flights she’d just climbed. Should she turn around and go back down? And then what? Back outside into the darkness to whomever might be waiting to finish what they started? Unsure of what to do, the seconds crept by. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel a fear rise up that threatened to choke the life right out of her. She felt frozen in a body that couldn’t move while she desperately wanted to move somewhere, anywhere.

Pull yourself together, Casey. She could hear the words in her head, but her lips refused to move. In any other stressful situation, tears poured easily, but this time was different. Her tear ducts refused to release the wet that often ushered in the release of stress.

At that moment, on the other side of the door, the sound of footsteps running down the hall pulled her out of her stupor. With each step toward her, another part of her body began to wake up until she finally had full use of her legs again. Her arms released their contents, and she turned and flew down the stairs, her feet barely touching the orange-carpeted stairs.

She pushed through the door and into the cool night air, stopping in the middle of the quiet parking lot bending over, catching her breath, crying, and wondering how she would ever get back upstairs and into the sanctuary of her apartment. Had she been followed?

Spinning around, she turned to look where she’d come from. But there was no one. The night air was quiet and crisp and breathable. It held a peaceful calm.

I can’t stay out here all night, she thought as she savored the peacefulness. You have to get back upstairs. Suddenly her thoughts went to her mom and sister. Were they safe? Had they been there when whatever had happened, happened? She had to get to them. Her fear threatened to surface again. She felt stuck knowing she couldn’t stay outside, scared to go back in, wanting to get home.

Lord. What do I do? she whispered the words. I’m so scared.

Look up.

Jerking her head from side to side, she looked around for the source of the words. But there was nothing. Nothing but the sound of dried leaves scooting across the pavement, the flicker of the building’s one light, the smooth breeze that moved the almost-empty branches back and forth in a rhythmic sway.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. This is crazy, she thought. Your mind is just playing tricks. Get it together. But the thought of moving toward the door caused another surge of panic that threatened to overwhelm her, and she could feel her eyes heating up with the tears that refused to come moments earlier. Determined to get a handle on herself and the situation, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Then she heard it again.

Look up.

This time, without thinking, she lifted her chin and opened her eyes to an unbelievable scene hovering over her building. An army of white-robed beings cloaked in blinding light stood in a circle each facing outward and holding a flaming sword raised to the sky. Beautiful and unexpectedly calming, it reminded her of a painting she’d expect to see in a museum that leaves the observer transfixed. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

I will take care of you, the voice whispered. You’re safe.

And then a verse she’d been taught years before in church suddenly came to mind.

For the angel of the LORD is a guard; he surrounds and defends all who fear him.

She drank in the truth of the words evidenced in front of her like a cool drink for a parched mouth

Thank you, she whispered and moved toward the door.

At the top of the stairs, her stuff lay strewn across the landing where she’d left it. She gathered it up, opened the door, and tried to ignore the evidence of evil on the walls as she entered the third floor hallway making her way the few steps to her apartment.

She turned the key into the lock and pushed open the apartment door. Inside, her sister was laying in front of the television on the living room floor, her mom standing over the stove stirring that night’s dinner.

“Hey honey,” her mom greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Long day.” She dumped her stuff on a kitchen chair and kissed her mom. “How was your day?”

“Uneventful,” her mom said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Casey shrugged.

“It was odd though.” Her mom said. She turned off the stove, reached for three mismatched dinner plates scored at a garage sale, and began serving up dinner. “Earlier today, I was going to run some errands, but I just had the strangest feeling that I shouldn’t go. I don’t know why.”

“I do.” said Casey. “I’ll tell you later.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Faith

What are Your Qualifications?

“God doesn’t call the qualified; He qualifies the called.”

I heard those words in a speech one year at a fundraising dinner for the school where my husband was teaching. I’m sure they weren’t new words to most of the people in the room, but they were to me. I’ve rolled them over and over in my mind since hearing them and clung to them like a bulwark in a storm. In difficult circumstances, when the calling of God on my life seemed daunting, I would recite them as if in doing so, I would somehow release a mysterious power to aid me in my time of need.

Over the years as they proved to be less helpful in practice and more lofty in theory, I wondered where I was missing the boat. The idea that God would qualify me to handle the difficult tasks He’d called me to frustrated me as I didn’t see the truth of the statement playing out in my life. Did I have an incorrect view of “qualify”?

One particular situation was the one I found myself in this past summer. Several things changed at once: my husband resigned from a 14-year teaching career to do something completely different, my oldest was getting ready to go off to college, we were homeschooling our youngest for the last two years of his high school career, and I was going back to work full-time after a 23-year break from the 40-hour work week grind. It was a lot, and I felt overwhelmed; overwhelmed by the change in our family structure, overwhelmed that my sweet daughter wouldn’t be asking me to go shopping or sitting on my bed late at night to discuss the latest happenings in her teenage life; overwhelmed by the fear that my son would graduate stupid because of my poor teaching; overwhelmed that my house would be dirtier than normal and I’d be too tired to clean it; overwhelmed by what I had to learn at my new job.

Don’t misunderstand, the changes were good, but they were still changes. For years, my husband had summers off, and we could enjoy much-needed time together for a few blissful weeks; for years it had always been the four of us, and even if we were all in different rooms of the house, it had always been the four of us; for years I’d depended on the school for my kids’ educational upbringing, and now I was doing the unthinkable and taking it on myself. To top it all off, after cleaning houses for 20+ years, I knew more about dismantling and reassembling a vacuum than I did about running multiple computer programs while answering phones and making split-second decisions. In my mind, I was grossly unqualified for the task at hand, and the reminder that God would qualify me for said task brought me little comfort. What? Was He magically going to arm me with multi-tasking prowess and computer literacy overnight to do what in my mind was the impossible?

Back to my question: did I not understand the concept of qualify?

Qualify: to be entitled to a particular benefit or privilege by fulfilling a necessary condition (according to Bing)

There are a couple of things to unpack in this definition. First, to be qualified is to be entitled; entitled to whatever it is that encompasses the situation you’re in. In my situation, I was entitled to all of the negative feelings of inadequacy, frustration, and questioning that I had entertained if I wanted to take that path. I was also entitled to the hope that God, in his infinite riches would provide me with exactly what I needed to do exactly what He had called me to do.

But there’s a catch: according to the definition, entitlement to the benefits and privileges associated with any situation apply only by fulfilling a necessary condition. Now we’re getting somewhere. So what was I not doing? I’d already followed the path He was laying out for me. I’d obeyed. What more could there possibly be for me to do? I simply had nothing left to apply to my circumstances. And then the words of Paul came to mind, and it all became crystal clear.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  II Cor 12:9-11

The thorn in Paul’s side was put there as a reminder of his insufficiency apart from Christ, and upon recognizing this, the power of Christ was his for the taking. This attitude of being poor in spirit, the recognition of who we are before Christ-weak, empty, lacking everything good- and who He is, opens wide the gate to the immeasurable riches at the fingertips of God for our use and benefit. God doesn’t call the know-it-alls. He calls the weak and qualifies them by showing them their weakness.

It’s a little difficult to teach a four-year old to tie their shoes if they don’t know that they don’t know how to do it, and even if they are aware of their lack of skill, until they stop trying and admit their need for help, it’s pointless. They’ll keep stringing those laces together in all manner of concoctions only to wind up at the same place: a knotty mess.

The simple truth is in the irony: the only qualification you need to fulfill the plans of God for your life is in admitting that you are grossly unqualified for the task. Do this, and you open wide heaven’s coffers bursting with resources ad infinitum.

Faith

What Difference Does It Make?

Do you ever wonder how salvation makes a difference in our lives here on earth? I will never forget sitting in a class in college and being given the assignment to write out my testimony. The professor, having assigned this particular task for several years, was familiar with the rebuttals from students like me. “I don’t have a testimony. I was saved at a young age. I haven’t done anything majorly wrong yet! I have nothing to write about.” I think this is particularly common for those of us who were saved at a young age, grew up in church, in a Christian family, with Christian friends, etc. etc.

His answer, to write about a turning point in our lives that brought us closer to God and changed the course of our lives, somewhat allayed my worries that I had nothing to say. I’d had plenty of turning points: dedicating my life at camp, going on a missions trip when I was 17, deciding to go to Bible college rather than the university I’d been accepted to. I’d experienced the power of God many times in my 19 years. I’d experienced His goodness over and over again in the form of answered prayers and mended relationships. But I didn’t have a big story in terms of recovering from drug addiction, experiencing abortion, turning to Him after living a life of complete and utter rebellion against Him. Though thankful that I had not experienced what so many I knew had, my faith felt stale and lacked a serious wow factor. 

Fast forward to the present, and I find myself on my knees thanking Him for what He’s saved me from. I’ve talked about the study of Revelation that I have been in over the last several months. As it comes to a close, I’m reflecting on the holiness of God more than ever before. Though I’ve barely touched the surface of this truth of God, I’ve encountered enough of it in His Word to start to understand my sin in relation to it. 

You know those thoughts that creep into the back of your mind out of nowhere that you would never dream of telling anyone about? You know the temptations you face on your way to work? You know the voices in your head that scream something about you that is contrary to the truth of Scripture? You know the sin tendencies you battle every day as soon as your feet hit the floor? 

That’s what He saved us from! Salvation is not merely fire insurance for the life to come.  He owes us nothing, and that would be enough. But not only did He save us from an eternity of pain, separation from Him, torment, He saved us from an earthly life of it too. God, in His mercy, has saved us from having to follow the rabbit trails of our thoughts. He’s given us a way to refute the lies of Satan that would paralyze our faith, He’s provided an escape from the temptations of sin that we face every day, He’s given us an escape from the sin bent that each one of us is born with. All we have to do is take what He’s offered. When we accept salvation, we are accepting it both for the life to come, and for the life we live now on earth in front of our family and friends and a watching world. We’re saved from a life of living like every other lost soul on this planet. We’ve been saved to new life. 

Sometimes salvation seems far off because heaven seems far off. Though grateful for the eternal life He offers, we forget that salvation starts now. It doesn’t start the moment we step out of this life and into the next. No, the next life is merely the perfection of everything He’s started here. 

This simple truth is this: like marriage is a commitment that starts the moment we say “I do” so salvation is a lifestyle that starts the moment we accept the gift. If that’s not enough of a wow factor, then nothing will be!

“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20, NKJV).