i owe him nothing
“If you look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that. You know for yourselves that we’re not much to look at. We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorised, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken.” (2 Corinthians 4:7-9)
In Paul’s time, persecution was rife. Believing in the Messiah cost your life. Yet, these group of believers didn’t waver. Their philosophy was simple: with God on our side, we are giants. Come what may.
While I’m not under persecution at the risk of my life, I do know that life deals its share of challenges. This season has been a true stretching. With so many responsibilities and duties to fulfil, my soul is wearing out. The question at the back of my mind is: can I survive with my soul intact?
I heard a word resonating today at my breathing workshop: you owe me nothing. And that broke me. Such a strong sense of grace enveloped me. Child, there’s nothing to feel bad about. There’s nothing to feel sorry for. You owe me nothing. That’s the power of the cross.
It’s funny. Of all Easter Sundays, the one I never went to service for, the one I thought would be the most meaningless, has been the one which truly reminded me most of Christ and his message. It’s a message of love. Of grace. Of freedom to live as his son.
And in this tired, worn-out jar of clay, he places that message. And boy, I feel so unworthy. A sin-soaked life carrying the Word of Life? No wonder we feel stretched, prodded, even crushed by the weight of his Word. It never leaves us comfortable. It always expands the stubborn heart, confronts our biggest fears, holds a mirror up against our soul. How painful.
Yet, we are never destroyed. We are never alone. Because the Word becomes flesh. One with us. And even if I do feel the pressure of work versus the lack of time, all I do has been acted upon his leading. So relax. Let the Word fill the body.
It’s his grace over me that’ll sustain me. Not by might or power, but His spirit. I owe him nothing.
Oh Father, this Easter, you remind me of love. A love I can’t fully fathom, but can only learn to accept.
Breathe Life. Any way, any how. I inhale your grace.
Amen
