“God said it. I believe it. That settles it.”
Right. Okay. I see the “I believe it” you put there so the whole thing has you in the middle, at the center of the whole thing. Hang on. I’m going somewhere with this. Please, don’t be offended.
Several years ago a dear old friend (happy birthday, old friend!!!) brought up a different way of looking at that phrase up there. Should it really be “God said it. That settles it”? Yes. That is concrete truth and our belief will never make God’s word or will change. But My belief, if missing from the equation of my faith, makes my faith so useless it might as well be dehydrated water.
Here in this first week I’ve related just a few struggles we all deal with, but this one is probably the one thing we will come back to over and over in life with Jesus: Believe.
We sure can give that word a LOT of lip-service. But what service do we do the Lord when we say we believe, we think we believe, and we try our best to believe and we don’t believe him in the slightest? It’s like going to church on Sunday with your car on fire, hornets have stung your face in three places and you look like you could use a bath and someone asks you how you are.
You say, “Fine.”
So do I. I also say I believe. I say it right to Jesus’ face. I say it as he sees my “belief” in ashes right behind me. Surrounding the dark, smelly and smoldering pile are stacks of rocks, brand new gavels, a judge’s robe, all the things I worry over, the spot where I sit in the mess and refuse to get up and walk out, the people who are so precious to him that I will not forgive, all the other things that make me fall flat on my face before him over and over, and he sees the bench where i wear my robes, wield the gavels, pitch the rocks, and put him on trial with all my buts. And because I don’t believe him, I have to believe me.
I put myself up as my own idol and say “I believe”.
I sure do.
I believe in me.
That settles it. And it stinks.
This week’s story: No rocks. No gavel. Do not judge. Do not worry. Get up. Let your chains fall off. Walk out of the prison. Forgive. Watch your step. But Jesus, it’s my life.