david-nathanael-jones

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

 

A Fall's Wednesday

Wednesday morning and my spirit swims franticly and awkwardly toward the bobbing shoreline of sanity in Christ Jesus. I'm coughing and lurching toward Him, water in my eyes and ears.

How easily I fall back into the icy water of doubt and stubborn pride! I sense one mark of alienation, one straw of hoplessness, and I turn and dive in--forgetting that I have no ability to swim the dangerous deeps of self-determined anguish--forgetting the evil masses of darkness below that could, upon the Lord's allowance, easily swallow me up in one gulp.

The essentials of true life are this:

Toward my standing with God:

I am nothing more than a child of God, yet certainly nothing less; I have been adopted as a son of God through the death of Christ, and my hope toward this was made manefest and sure in the ressurection of Jesus Christ, God-man from Nazareth.

Toward my calling in this world:

Nothing depends on my ability to absorb and retain pieces of information, to recite them the proper time, or to attempt to act according to their proscriptions. Conversly, everything comes to life when I learn to hear the Spirit's voice in and among the things in my mind. God alone holds everything together; His whisperings to me hold me together as I act and move in this world.

Jesus is King of the world. He is King of my heart. He is working in me to will and to work toward his good pleasure, and that is all that matters.




Tuesday, September 21, 2004

 

Dangerously Close

"So then I serve the law of God with my mind, with with my flesh I serve the law of sin."
"So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me."
"If I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it but sin that dwells within me."

To this: Choose this day, Today, whom you will serve.






Friday, September 17, 2004

 

Friday (Night)

Nothing new seems plausible when the banal repition of daily routine has sucked all life out of thought, out of time, out of breathing.

Yet, somewhere in this tired aching skin lies life, promised in the raw facts of a man's crucifixion and resurection mere years ago. To whisper his name is enough to open the way for hope renewed, hope restored.

That I would come to know the power of my King: the soil, the sun, the living blood of life!



Monday, September 13, 2004

 

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