It is entirely possibly to walk away from God while singing worship songs and leading ministries and discipling other people.
Just ask me.
It’s possible to be in the midst of the presence of God while simultaneously wishing very terrible things on the the person next to you.
It’s possible to have Bethel playing in the background while you yell at your husband.
It’s possible to look up from your Beth Moore book and lose your temper with your four year old.
It’s possible to walk out of church gossiping about the intimate details of someone’s failed relationship.
We can do all the right things and be further from God than a bona fide heathen.
Every day, it seems I am a paradox. Striving to be godly one minute and the next using foul language and talking trash. I’m at a critical point though. God is saying to me, with all the love in his heart, “How badly do you want me, Sarah? Because you will never go the places you want to go in your relationship with me while you’re allowing yourself to live a life that’s only partly holy.”
He’s saying, “Dear girl, I want all of you.”
I want your conversations, seasoned with grace, minus the gossip.
I want your thought life. I want you to be consumed with loving me and loving people, so that fleshly outbursts are no longer your go-to’s.
I want your confidence. So that you aren’t trying to please other people with your clothing choices, you are striving to please me and honor me.
I want your morning coffee time, so I’m at the center of your heart as you begin your day.
I want you, all of you, all the time.
I’m at a crossroads, friends, and maybe you are too. These are crazy days we are living in, and we can’t afford to have one foot in righteousness and one foot in the world. We can’t afford to be lukewarm anymore. The world needs hope, and we know who the hope giver is, and we take Jesus and all he has done for us for granted.
Jesus wants our whole hearts. We can read all the devotionals in the world and still be a class A jerk. You know it and I know it.
I don’t want to be that person though. I want to be the same girl everywhere, in every conversation. I want to be sensitive to other people, quick to listen and slow to speak.
I’m tired of wanting the things of God more than I want God himself.
He paid a high price for us, and we busy ourself with trivial things and we wonder why are not fulfilled.
You, oh, God, have been our dwelling place throughout every generation. Forgive me for allowing sin to creep into my life and become louder than your voice. Let my life song sing of you again. Let me shine for you again. Let me not rationalize sin anymore. Let my life be different because I know you.
In light of all this, here’s what I want you to do. While I’m locked up here, a prisoner for the Master, I want you to get out there and walk—better yet, run!—on the road God called you to travel. I don’t want any of you sitting around on your hands. I don’t want anyone strolling off, down some path that goes nowhere. And mark that you do this with humility and discipline—not in fits and starts, but steadily, pouring yourselves out for each other in acts of love, alert at noticing differences and quick at mending fences.
It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”
― C.S. Lewis,