You Have a Comforter

David Wilkerson Devotional:

I am learning something very wonderful about the Holy Spirit. He has a unique characteristic: He does not like to talk about himself. He does not make himself the primary object of our attention.

I have tried earnestly to study the Holy Spirit, digging into entire volumes about him written by respected authors. Some of these books are very deep and often hard to understand—books about his nature and personality. They are all very interesting—but not always edifying. The fact is, they can’t be edifying because you can only understand what the Spirit himself reveals and he won’t talk about himself!

I have tried digging into the meaning of the Holy Spirit’s names—Comforter, Paraclete, Advocate, Intercessor—looking for some insight as to who he is. But I finally realized that we Christians don’t have to understand the person of the Holy Spirit—because he doesn’t want to tell us hidden things about himself. All we need to know is that he is one of the Godhead: eternal, the very Spirit of Christ, sent down to this earth to live in us who believe. And his eyes are always on Christ!

The Holy Spirit doesn’t want us to know about him so much as to know about his mission, and that mission is to bring us to Jesus and keep us in purity and holiness. He is always at work, making Christ known in our hearts, and he delights in our seeking knowledge about why he has come.

Jesus said, “When he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth: for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will show you things to come. He shall glorify me: for he shall receive of mine, and shall show it unto you (John 16:13-14).

Stitch me up, doc.

I could have sworn I'd seen your face a thousand times before. 

Although I never had the luxury of touching mine to yours. It's a battle few win. Many are left wounded; some lose pieces of them and some walk away with few scars. Superficially its alterable. Internally--its a different story. 

I decided that this time I wasn't going to let my past dictate my future. I finally had it set in my mind that I was stronger than I had believed before. My heart is strong. Im not a weak willed person by any means. I can take a hit, try me. But if I've taken the time out to personally remove barriers and blockades that I, myself, have built...how is it reasonable that others don't give that same regard? My dreams are ruining me, my heart is ready to jump out of me, and my oxygen tank is low (from wasting my breath.) What gives, Love? What gives.....

Love, you fooled me once--shame on you. But, I swear, you're not fooling me twice. 

I could have sworn I'd seen your face a thousand times before. Although I never had the luxury of touching mine to yours. But I promise this time I'll win. 

I promise that this time Ill walk away unscathed. 

At first sight

Im certainly not a cynic. I truly and deeply believe in love above all things. Every so often you hear those stories about love that take your breath away. Books, movies, poems...I find myself with a sudden lack of curiosity for moments like those. Their various depictions, although true and relevant for some, have begun to bore me. Really love? You want to shout from a mountain top? I want to shout from a mountain top every time I get a new pair of shoes. Do better.  

Schadenfreude/Belle-lettres

Dear [insert social security number here],
You are dispensable. If you died tomorrow I assure you that the world wouldn't mourn for you. Sure, a few people might wallow in their grief and waste tissue for you, but all in all--you're replaceable. I can get someone else to fill your position at work. Someone else will surely buy your car. Your clothes will be given away or sold at a garage sale. Thats if your family hasn't decided to box it all, as if you were coming back--HA. Don't worry if you get fired, chances are someone was better suited. Oh you dropped your cell phone carrier? They don't mind. They just pocketed $200 from you and someone else will be taking your line in no time. See? I told you, you're dispensable. You're just a number. If the world knew you by name you wouldn't need a SSN. You'd be able to walk into the dmv and say hi, my name is [Wah wahhh, they really don't care.] It hurts doesn't it? Fighting to live a dispensable life? Going day by day according to what society tells you to do. Fitting their happy little mold and chasing the dream. The dream that well, lets face it, will all come crashing to an end once you end up in a hospital or a coffin. You my friend are worthless.

Sincerely
lovingly
affectionately 
unfortunately yours,
World.




Dear [insert full name here],
You are indispensable. There is no one like you in all the earth. Even if I ran around a million times and interviewed every person on the planet, there'd still be no other you. I understand that its a bit cliche, letters of encouragement or inspirational quotes. But just so you know: if you died tomorrow there would be a gaping hole inside of me. My world would be forever changed. Your place in the kingdom is one only you can fill. Do you think I want another you? No. I want YOU. Exactly as you are. Every curve, every roll, every chin, every hair, pimple, wart, scar, bruise, and broken bone. I want it all. It's strange isn't it? Knowing that someone cares so disgustingly about you. Every hair on your head accounted for. Every bone and blood cell kept record of. Its comforting once you get passed the eery vibe of a stalker. I assure you that not a moment goes by that you are not kept guarded. Not a second where you're alone. You are indeed a masterpiece created after perfection. You my love are worth anything and everything.


Sincerely
affectionately
wholly
adoringly
ardently
forever yours,
love.

persona non grata

Dear Love, 

Let me start by acknowledging your prominence in my life. Sure, miles didn't help. But your relevance goes undiminished. No, I'll never forget you. I'll never forget the broken pieces you left behind. But I'll sweep them up and throw them in the trash so no other love feels the sting of the shards. I'll make sure that there are no remnants left. No bits or pieces of you. 

A joke. A fallacy. All I ever had were your words--thats all you ever gave me. A bunch of words. Words over the phone, words over text, words over the internet, all just words. Nothing tangible. Nothing credible.
Just.Your.Words.

Dear Love, 

At one point you meant everything to me. At one point I could barely breathe at the thought of you. It was all so unreal. But as quickly as you came, you left. Here, in this blog, I'm leaving you. Letting you go to rot in whatever life you'll create for yourself. Cause well--you were always so independent. 

Dear Love,

You weren't real.
You weren't true.
You weren't love at all. 

Dear You,

You.....
You were a cop-out. 

I don't mind if I step alone

"Whatever your work is, do it gladly. Do it as you would do it unto the Lord and not for people." Colossians 3:23

Perhaps I'm taking this verse out of context when I apply it to things such as my writing. Within the context of previous verses it's actually referring to slaves; giving them reason to do their work with joy and zeal--as if it were unto the Lord. But I can't help but personalize it and make it for me and what I do. 

My mind is constantly on "write" mode. I tend to think as though I'm sitting at my computer writing rather than just speaking. Of course I have other passions, other desires, and other loves--but this, this is perhaps one of my greatest treasures. I often forget why I do it, which is why posts are so infrequent. I always find myself getting frustrated that no one reads these, even after I sweat and weep as I write them. I have so many things running through my head at any given time that I always consider "blogging" but never do. See, I hate knowing that I spend hours on these things--these insecurities. I hate knowing that I can write a million words and no one would even know. But I love knowing that I at least have an audience of one.

He's my biggest fan. None of my words ever go unread or un-noted. If He keeps count of the hairs on my head, which aren't life changing to me, I can only imagine how much esteem He gives to my words. If He gives regard to when a sparrow falls, then I know His eye is focused just as intently on me. I have the hardest time getting passed that, don't you? The creator of the UNIVERSE has His eye on you. To Him you're a celebrity. To Him I'm a famous author, I'm His treasure. I like to imagine that when the thunder claps it's His exclamation to me that I've done a good job in His eyes. The lightning is His camera flash, He's such a proud parent--such a beautiful father. He'd show off my picture if He could. Brag to all His friends that He's got a daughter who's completely smitten by Him and would do anything to make Him proud. What a gracious King--that He would come eat at the table with me. That He would choose to be my audience. 

So--I don't mind if I step alone. I don't mind if I write a book that never gets published or a song thats never sung. I don't do it to make a name for myself. The Lord of all already knows my name.

The snack bar will keep these hunger pangs at bay.

There are moments in worship where my heart wants to beat right out of my chest, and moments where it sinks to the pit of my stomach. Such is the life of a worshipper. It has become my deepest desire to have my heart be moved. I frequently find myself forcing it. Seeing that it's easy to become complacent, its easy to let our hearts stay still. A worshipper must take caution never to become too acquainted or "familiar" with the way it feels when they worship. I am constantly on this roller coaster of sorts where you never really get used to the rush. Its easy to stay still--its easy to fall asleep. But, it's in those moments of lifelessness that His hand comes and gives a little jolt--sending your heart right back out of your chest.

Have you ever known the heart of God? Have you ever just sat and soaked? You never want to forget those moments. The ones where you end up with a sort of worship vomit. Once you start admiring and acknowledging the beauty of the sovereign God you just can't stop. It stirs up this insatiability that almost possesses you. You literally step out of sanity for that moment. The hunger turns you into this beast that wont stop until the desire is satiated. Every taste is better than the last. I wish I could literally sit and be drenched in his presence like the rain. That I could walk out from having just immersed myself in his love and be completely soaked and have to ring out my clothes. I want to drown. I want it to fill my lungs. I want to be swept away by the waves and washed up on a shore on some remote island. The natives will have to revive me, but once I come around--they'll get it too. As I write I find myself longing for a drop. I almost feel like an addict, my veins are itching. My body'll start going through withdrawal because every moment spent away is a moment wasted. This is love. This is real love. It can't be curbed, it can't be stopped. He won me over and He'll keep me.

I've done it. I've lived without the presence of God in my life. I've gone through days and months without so much as a drop. The most trialing times of my life have been when there was a lack of His presence. More importantly, a lack of seeking Him. How terrible are we? Who do we think we are to punish God by walking away? You know, I've heard that it's wrong to boast in the greatness of God because people of other beliefs and opinions would get offended. Well--God is not politically correct and He's so much better for it. He's not molded or moved by the times. He doesn't change just because we change, no. We do not have the power to change God. He is sovereign, and he is beautiful, and he is worthy, and his presence...well...His presence is delicious.