Into the Fire

Monday, August 30th: Interview with top literary agent Chip MacGregor

Soon-coming review: Never Let You Go by Erin Healy (co-author with Ted Dekker in Burn; Kiss; Award-winning editor)

Meditations . . .

I’ve had enough disappointments in my life—you know the kind where you redefine dreams, tone down your hopes, reduce your desires to ignite a beautiful drama and settle for a possible adventure. In fact I’ve had enough of those experiences to get to the place where any successes that come along temper my reaction to them. Subdue me.

That admission might sound like I’m ungrateful. On the contrary. My Lord and my God rescued me from utter despair, gave me life which couldn’t exist without Him, and through His Spirit teaches me daily about myself without condemnation. Amazing God. The gratitude I feel and express surpasses the meager words I’m able to utter or write. Nothing compares to the thankfulness I experience every time I consider how gracious He’s been to me, this hapless sinner bent on independence as a young woman, tromping into unknown territory and, similar to the old Eagles’ tune, in some ways becoming that witchy woman. Blatant evil frightened me, but the subtle stuff won me over for a season. Still can if I’m not vigilant and on guard for the clever snares. The Holy Spirit constantly whispers His staggering warnings, and in my devotion to Him, I want so desperately to heed and obey those generous illuminations.

When the surprises come, the affirmations I crave and maybe don’t need as often as I’m convinced I do, I know who gets the credit for providing those sweet delicacies. I know Him. Because He made a way for me to meet Him. He made it possible. He secured me. He tolerated my inexperience, my over-the-top exuberance and the resulting messes, and my anger when this spoiled child complained that He wasn’t getting my messages. Shame on me—only He didn’t handle it that way. He waited. His patience gave me time to learn, to see from His eyes in quick little bursts which revealed how small and near-sighted and short-sighted my vision really is in the eternal big picture. He changed me from an infant to an adolescent—but with less petulance. I can’t say I’ll ever become an adult in the Spirit, at least as long as I’m tethered to my sinful core, but I love the Lord Jesus Christ because I know who He is. Certainly not in all His fullness or in His magnificent glory, but in His Shepherd-of the-sheep way, of which I might be the blackest in behavior, and in His Redeemer way, because no one needed it or still needs it any more than I did and do. I know how words don’t get it at all when it comes to what He means to me or anyone else who dares to reach out to His forgiving arms, who dares to believe He is, was, and always will be, exactly who He said He was and is.

Whatever He does, that thing at that moment is really all that matters in all of the hearts who lean in on Him. Who seek the strength of His undaunted anchor. Who cannot be changed by the whims of wicked humans. Who is always ready to listen to the lost if they’ll just set aside their pre-conditions and their lack of repentance and their refusal to admit they’ve gone the wrong way, that their hearts led them astray, that they need a Savior.

I’m desperate for you, Lord of heaven and earth.