Tag: Peter

There’ll Be A Scar

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The doctor said there will be a scar.

I stood over my two-year-old as she laid on the hospital bed in the emergency room, cradling her hand in mine and gently stroking her blood-soaked hair.

More than two hours before, she had been tucked in her bed when she felt inspired to climb into the crib on her own.  We heard the thud and then her cry.  Then we heard the cries of the older girls who were certain they “saw her brains coming out” and were afraid “she was going to die.”

My husband and I scooped up my baby girl, threw on her jacket and snatched up her shoes.  Pressing a rag to her head to cover the gash and to stop the bleeding, my husband snuggled her close as he carried her to the van for our ride to the emergency room.

And I prayed.

Sometimes when you’re in that place of adrenaline and potential bad news, fear, and love for your child, you can’t pray much more than the name of Jesus.  I’m thankful that’s enough.

In the emergency room we waited . . . and waited . . . and waited some more.  By a true miracle, my two-year-old played happily for two-and-a-half hours without one single tear, entertained only by the items I happened to have in my purse.  Two crayons.  Three miniature My Little Ponies.  Two children’s books.  A sheet of stickers.

When we saw the doctor, I confessed that I’d never had a child receive stitches for anything.  So, he cleaned out the gash in her forehead, probed it and kind of hmmmed and sighed for a few minutes.  Then he announced, “There’ll be a scar no matter what.  But in order to avoid a needle and anesthetic for her and to keep you from passing out, let’s try glue instead of stitches.”

That sounded good to me.

When I told her the story, my friend said, “Who doesn’t have a scar with a story from their childhood??”

I’ve been thinking about this all week, every time I peek under the Band-Aid and examine the line of dark red across my baby’s face.  Don’t we all have scars?  Not just from childhood, but we bear the wounds of hurtful words from a supposed friend, the betrayal of someone who said they loved you, the embarrassments from long ago, and the pain over last week’s mistake.

Jesus chose, following His resurrection, to keep His scars.  He was healed and restored to life, but when He extended His hands, the palms still bore the signs of what He did for us.  This didn’t just give a basis for the disciples’ faith, but “Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side” (John 20:19-20). 

His scars are our source of peace.  His hands upturned remind us that our healing, our forgiveness, our deliverance, our freedom, our redemption, our eternity are all part of the peace He gave us through His sacrifice.

Isaiah tells us:

“But he was pierced for our transgressions,
   he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
   and by his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5).

Jesus’ scars are a reminder of what He has done and that gives us peace.

Our scars can do the same.  Oh, I don’t mean we cling to burdens, shame, guilt, hurts, and fears, refusing to lay them down at the cross and remaining forever imprisoned by the stories of our past.

Scripture is clear.

God forgives us.
“As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12).

God heals our broken hearts.
“The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners” (Isaiah 61:1)

God sets us free.
“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery” (Galatians 5:1)

God doesn’t hold our past against us.
“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1)

We are washed clean, made new, redeemed and set free because of the scars Christ bore on our behalf.

Yet, the experiences that He brought us through, all of the times He carried us, and the moments when we stumbled, aren’t times we completely forget.  They are, instead, seasons of transformation in our lives.  He uses each trial and mistake to change our hearts and draw us closer to Him.

The scars we bear from those times of difficulty and growth are our testimony to others.  We can point to our own scabs and gashes and say, “Look what God has done in me.  He brought me through this.”  We are walking reminders of His mercy, standing testaments to His grace, and an ever-present sign of His peace among the hurting, the broken, and the oppressed.

And it’s not despite our scars; it’s because of them.  That’s why Peter, after experiencing the pain of rejecting Christ, became the apostle who argued so passionately for humility.

That’s why Paul, knowing that he had been a murderer and a persecutor of Christians in the past, became the apostle best known for defending grace.

Their scars became part of their testimony and pointed to Christ.

Years ago, I stumbled upon what became one of my favorite songs, Point of Grace’s Heal the Wound.  I hope it blesses you as it did me!

You can click on the video from the blog in order to listen or follow the link here: http://youtu.be/KjnCxvH4Q3w

You can read more devotionals on this topic here:

Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader.  Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness.  To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

Our Jesus Style

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“Clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh” (Romans 13:14, NIV).

The first time it happened, I thought I was going crazy.

I rifled through my two-year-old’s dresser and pulled out a new bright red Minnie Mouse t-shirt and some jeans.  Then I placed them in the pile with the other girls’ clothes for the day.

My toddler took one look at the red shirt on top, screamed “no,” grabbed it and went running through the house like she was heading for a touchdown.

I have three daughters.  I’ve faced wardrobe protests before.  There’s the “I only wear dresses, the frillier and sparklier the better” and the “I only wear pink and purple” child.

In the other extreme, we have regular Sunday morning meltdowns with my other daughter who “hates pretty” and refuses to put on a dress.  Oh how I mourn the closet full of hand-me-down dresses just hanging there unused!

So, seeing my two-year-old streak through the house with a red shirt didn’t phase me in the least.  I dressed my other kids and then hunted for my naked toddler.

But when I found her, the shirt was missing.  I looked around her, in the rooms she had been in, back in the dresser, and under the kitchen table (her usual hiding place).

Did I not just see her running with this shirt?  Did it disappear into thin air?  Had I finally completely lost my Mom mind?

Undaunted, I grabbed another shirt, pulled it on over her head and finished the morning dressing ritual and started washing dishes.  I took some crust from their breakfast toast over to the trashcan and dumped it in almost without looking.  Then I walked back to the trash with my used teabag and napkin and tossed those in, as well.

Walking away, though, I realized—I had seen red crumpled clothing in there.  The Minnie shirt was now covered in crumbs and splotches of tea, but I salvaged it and threw it into the washing machine.

Now I’m on to her.  I carry out the clothes in the morning.  The two-year-old’s disappear routinely.  I no longer hunt through the house for them.  I know they’re in the trash can.

My little one has developed a strong opinion about what she wears every day.

I wonder what would happen if we were as careful about the attitudes, beliefs, and heart conditions we clothe ourselves in every morning.  Maybe we should be that picky.

It’s a favorite metaphor of the apostles, reminding us to peel off the old clothes of flesh, lust and sin and to purposefully put on a brand new outfit everyday.  We are to clothe ourselves in Christ.

Paul described it this way:

But now you must also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices  and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator . . .

 Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity (Colossians 3:8-14, NIV).

In other words, take it off, take it all off.  The anger, the bad attitude and grumpiness, the bad language, the lies.  All of those pesky remnants of our pre-Salvation self have to go.

And we stare at the closet and choose the new clothes we’ll wear each day with great care.  Clothes of compassion, kindness, gentleness, patience, forgiveness, and most of all love.

Add in to that mix the favorite outfit of Peter: “All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another” (1 Peter 5:5)

The bottom line, for Paul is that we should “clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh” (Romans 13:14, NIV).

Unfortunately, our old fleshly selves have a way of sneaking their way back into our closets.  We think we’ve restyled only to snap in anger during the morning rush.  How did that discarded sin find it’s way into our wardrobe again?  More importantly, how did we end up wearing it today?

Mostly, it happens accidentally.  We aren’t picky enough about the spiritual clothes we don every day.

If you’re like me, you spend the last few minutes of time in bed each morning thinking about what you’re going to wear and all the things you need to accomplish that day.  You’re planning it all out.

So, in those few moments before your feet hit the floor, plan the style of your heart.  Choose to wear Jesus each day.  Reject the clothing of your old self and instead pull on love and step into compassion.  Spice things up with a scarf of kindness and a jacket of forgiveness.  Wear your own favorite shoes of humility and gentleness.

It’s our Jesus style.  It’s what people should see when they glance our way—our Savior.  His pattern in our lives is unmistakable.

Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader.  Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness.  To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

Copyright © 2011 Heather King

Packing Up the Tent, Part I

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Tents and forts.  What mom doesn’t love these?

Yeah.  That’d be me. The mess and disorder of it all.  The amount of space they take up!  The fights that occur when little people occupy too small a space. The clean up afterwards.

Whenever my girls pop up the tent, they seem to think every book and toy they own must join them inside.  Then, they drag all of the blankets and pillows off their beds and stuff those in also.

So when it comes time to clean up, it’s not just disassembling the “east to assemble” toy tent that actually requires an engineering degree and an Einstein intellect.  Oh no, it’s re-ordering my entire house.  Replacing bedding, re-shelving books, re-sorting toys.

But my girls have a renewed interest in tents and forts this month.  That’s because my oldest daughter spotted a pink teepee set at our church’s Awana store and plopped down the money she had earned saying verses so she could tote that tent right on home.

Nevermind that it didn’t come with instructions.  Seriously.

Nevermind that Momma starts hyperventilating at anything resembling a tent.

After extreme stretching of the intellect and me audibly huffing out huge sighs to remind her of what a self-sacrificing mom she has, we finally popped the last piece of the teepee into place.  She took up residence as if it were a palace.

So, this Mom has tents on the brain.

The apostle Peter did, too.  When he wrote the letter that would become the book of 2 Peter, he was nearing his death.

He wrote to his fellow Christians:

“So I will always remind you of these things, even though you know them and are firmly established in the truth you now have.  I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body,  because I know that I will soon put it aside, as our Lord Jesus Christ has made clear to me.  And I will make every effort to see that after my departure you will always be able to remember these things” (2 Peter 1:12-15).

A tent.  That’s all Peter’s body was to him.  A temporary residence he would soon abandon for a permanent abode in heaven.

Knowing that he was about to pack in the earthly tent, he decided to focus his teaching on a few lessons that he wanted people to remember after he was gone.  After he was gone, he wanted his fellow Christians to “always be able to remember these things.”

Sometimes we need that kind of focus.  Sure, we give our kids a million pieces of glorious advice every day:

Brush your teeth.
Yes, you need to take a bath.
Eat your sandwich before your Doritos.
Say, “Yes, sir” and “Yes, ma’am.”
Chew with your mouth closed.
Choose good friends.
Do your homework.
Don’t beat your sister over the head with a naked Barbie doll.

You get the idea.

But what matters?  When we toss aside this tent, what will they really remember?

And for those of you without children, what about your friends, your students, your co-workers, your family, your church.  What’s the lasting message they will take away from your tent?

Tabitha (also known as Dorcas) had the rare opportunity to discover her post-tent legacy.  She was a disciple of Jesus who lived in Joppa and Scripture tells us that “she was always doing good and helping the poor.”  But she grew ill and died.

The people in the town sent word to Peter to hurry on over to Joppa.  When he arrived and walked into the upper room where Tabitha’s body had been prepped for burial, “All the widows stood around him, crying and showing him the robes and other clothing that Dorcas (Tabitha) had made while she was still with them” (Acts 9:39).

They held up the outfits Tabitha had sewn for them.  They laid out the sashes that she’d stitched and the robes she’d crafted and they said to Peter, “You’ve got to bring her back!”

At Women of Faith, my friend and I had a special opportunity to sit in a small room with Sheila Walsh, one of the speakers, and she shared from this passage of Scripture.  She challenged us to live in such a way that our presence makes a difference.

When we pack in our tents, will people lay out physical reminders of the impact we made in their lives?  Will they point to tangible evidence of our kindness?

Will they, as the apostle Peter desired, be able to tell simply and clearly what life message we shared with them?

I don’t mean, “She was a nice person.  She was friendly.”

I mean, “When you saw her, you saw Jesus at work.  You couldn’t know her without getting to know Him.”

That’s what Tabitha’s life and death meant to others.  In life, her acts of kindness to widows gave them enough faith to call for Peter to raise her from the dead after her illness.

And after her death, Peter—sent for by those Tabitha had helped—-called for her to come back and “She opened her eyes, and seeing Peter she sat up.  He took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. Then he called for the believers, especially the widows, and presented her to them alive. This became known all over Joppa, and many people believed in the Lord.” (Acts 9:40-42).

In life, in death, Tabitha brought people to Jesus.

In life, in death, Peter encouraged the believers to follow Christ.

In this tent and out of it, how are you impacting others?

Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader.  Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness.  To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

Copyright © 2011 Heather King

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?: Part II

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For those reading Lisa Harper’s book, Stumbling Into Grace, along with my small group, today’s devotional will match up with her eighth chapter: “The Bride Who Tripped Down the Aisle”

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“Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me” (Psalm 52:12).

My first grader brought home a book from school to read over the weekend.  For two days she followed me around the house giggling uncontrollably and reading me her favorite sections aloud.

“Mom, listen to this,” (she’s giggling already).  “This kid just said George Washington was in his underwear.  He said underwear!!!”

“Isn’t this hil-ar-i-ous, Mom?  It says this kid put carrots up his nose and then he ate them!”

She could barely control herself on that one.  Left to her own devices, she’d probably have spent a half an hour in hysterics on the living room floor.

It’s not humor I could understand.  Me, I’m more of a Marx Brothers kind of girl.

In Part I of this post, I wrote that “we Christians should have a joy that people who don’t know Christ just don’t get.”  It’s just as mysterious to them as my daughter’s humor is to me.

Certainly this incomprehensible joy comes from the goodness of our message, the very Gospel of grace itself.  When life weighs us down with its humdrum dailyness, we must remember the great news we have received and that we share with the world.  It’s reason enough for joy in every situation.

Yet, while we always have reason for joy, life isn’t always joy-full.

God never commands us to paste on perfect happy faces to convince the world that Christians never suffer hurt or sorrow.  It’s a deception Christ Himself never engaged in.  He cried out, He asked others to pray with Him, He wept, and He suffered pain.  He assured us that this earth is a place of trouble.

Yet, Peter wrote:

Instead, be very glad—for these trials make you partners with Christ in his suffering, so that you will have the wonderful joy of seeing his glory when it is revealed to all the world ( 1 Peter 4:13).

Does it sound like impossible truth? Being joyful in trials because God will be glorified?  If we’re honest, often our prayers are more for our comfort and relief rather than for God’s glory.

So, was Peter a guy who preached impossible things that he never put into practice himself?  No, not Peter.

His ministry had never been more powerful or full of impact.  He and the other apostles were spreading the Gospel message and people were responding in droves.  Their reputation for miracles spread, so the crowds lined the streets with the sick hoping that Peter’s shadow would fall on them as he walked by and they would be healed (Acts 5).

Reason to have joy?  I’ll say!  Wouldn’t you be celebrating such ministry success?

Yet, full of jealousy, the Sanhedrin and religious leaders imprisoned Peter and the other apostles. After hearing Peter’s astounding defense, the court determined to have him killed, but not immediately.  For now, he and the other apostles were flogged and turned away . . . only to be martyred at a more opportune time.

Acts 5:41-42 tells us, “The apostles left the high council rejoicing that God had counted them worthy to suffer disgrace for the name of Jesus. And every day, in the Temple and from house to house, they continued to teach and preach this message: “Jesus is the Messiah.”

Peter didn’t just preach joy in all situations.  He lived it.

He had joy because of the message he had to share: Jesus is the Messiah!

He had joy because he knew that every trial was “for the name of Jesus.”

It’s not that God rejoices in our suffering, but instead His grace for us, the way He brings us through trials and redeems us from the pits we find ourselves in, the way He carries us through the fire and out the other side of the furnace—it all brings Him glory.  It shows the world that our God is faithful, powerful, mighty to save, and merciful to save us.

This outlook requires continual perspective adjustment.  We remember what matters in eternity.  We consider what will bring God glory.

That’s how the Christians described in Hebrews, “suffered along with those who were thrown into jail, and when all you owned was taken from you, you accepted it with joy.  You knew there were better things waiting for you that will last forever” (Hebrews 10:34).

We likewise know that the eternal is what truly matters and that God’s glory is our ultimate goal.

Still, just being honest, that doesn’t make most of us want to kick our heels and break into song when we’re facing trials.  It’s theologically sound, but practically difficult.

Is it any wonder, then, that the Psalmist has to plea for God’s help with this?  David wrote, “Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me” (Psalm 52:12).

That is our prayer also.  “Lord, we ask that You restore our joy.  Help us to recall the excitement about Your Gospel of grace.  In all circumstances, help us to submit to Your plans for us, because that is what will strengthen us and sustain us.  We rejoice that You will be glorified and we ask that You will work in each situation we face so that we can give a testimony to the world of Your power and Your love.  Amen”

Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader.  Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness.  To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

Copyright © 2011 Heather King

Don’t Forget Peter

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The other day, I celebrated the start of spring break and miraculously warm and sunny weather with a trip to the zoo.  My daughters and I piled into the van, stopped at a park for a picnic lunch and played on the playground of all playgrounds.  Then, we meandered around the zoo, my baby pointing excitedly even at empty cages, my older girls leading the way, each with a map in hand.

With the zoo finished, we flopped into our seats in the minivan, tired, content, hot and thirsty.  We stopped at the first McDonald’s on the way home.  A cold drink for everyone and a special treat—hot fudge sundaes.

As I handed each older girl her ice cream, I looked directly into her eyes and imparted great words of wisdom with heavy emphasis so she would know I was serious.  “Don’t,” I said slowly, “spill…this…on…your…clothes.”

Moments later, my older daughter had finished her treat.  She was neat and tidy.  No one would suspect she had licked every drop of chocolate out of her ice cream cup.

And then I dared to peek at my other young girl—not a full look, just a slow corner-of-the-eye glance.  The horror!  She had turned into a monster of chocolate.  It covered every inch of her visible skin and she had not one, not two—-but five (five!!!) massive splotches of chocolate on her clothes.  I whined.  I liked that outfit.  It was a hand-me-down that had survived all last year with her older sister and now, after just one ice cream sundae, it was bound for the trashcan.

I stripped her down as soon as we got home an hour later, sprayed on my laundry stain remover for set-in stains and put the washing machine to work.  It hummed, whizzed, rinsed, spun and stopped.  Without much hope, I pulled the clothes out one by one and then un-crumpled the “ruined” outfit.

Those clothes were totally spotless.
I did a happy dance in the laundry room.  I thanked God for all-powerful stain removers.
I paused.  I stood quiet.  I thanked God for all-powerful grace.
It’s a grace I struggle at times to comprehend and feel.
I fall into works-based living, expecting perfection and achieving failure.
I see the stains of sin on my heart and even when they are washed away, I still feel dirty, unusable and bound for the trashcan sometimes.
I struggle with a prison of self-condemnation.   Long after I’ve repented and sought forgiveness, I feel the heaviness of guilt—no, shame really.   It’s a prison of thoughts—You’re unworthy.  God can’t use you.  You fail, all the time you fail, same sins all the time.

That is what I feel.  But, this is what I know.

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9, NKJV).

” Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow” (Psalm 51:7, NIV).

“He has not dealt with us according to our sins, Nor punished us according to our iniquities.  For as the heavens are high above the earth, So great is His mercy toward those who fear Him; As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:10-12, NKJV)

“There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit” (Romans 8:1, NKJV).

God’s purpose in sending His Son Jesus to die for our sins was so that we could be cleansed, thoroughly washed clean, all sin stains removed. Why?  So that our relationship with Him could be restored.  He ” reconciled us to Himself through Jesus Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5:18, NKJV).

God’s grace produces reconciliation.  Satan’s accusations—even long after we’ve repented—bow us low to the ground with shame.  We become burdened with sins already forgiven and are unable to look up into God’s face any longer.  We can’t walk in relationship with our Savior when we are too ashamed to match His gaze.

During His travels, Jesus met “a woman who had a spirit of infirmity eighteen years, and was bent over and could in no way raise herself up.  But when Jesus saw her, He called her to Him and said to her, ‘Woman, you are loosed from your infirmity.’ And He laid His hands on her, and immediately she was made straight, and glorified God” (Luke 13:10-13, NKJV).

Christ never intends for us to stare at the dirt and shuffle around crippled by accusations and the burdens of guilt.  Like the crippled woman, in my own strength, I can in no way raise myself up.  Yet, He is “the One who lifts up my head” (Psalm 3:3, NKJV).  He reaches down a holy hand, extending grace, His touch on my chin as He lifts up my head so I can see forgiveness in His eyes and feel the reconciliation He offers.

So many of those Jesus healed cried out to Him, asking for His help and His mercy.  But this woman didn’t even yell for Jesus’s attention.  He “saw her, He called her to him.”  A woman bent low.  A woman whose face was forever hidden.  A woman with no voice.

And when He had healed her, she lifted up her new-found voice and gave Him praise.

Grace calls us to Him, calls us out of shame and Satan’s accusations of past sin.  He provides the healing our hearts need so that we’re no longer bending low.   We are straightened up through His strength, and then, with a testimony of thanks, we glorify God.

Don’t you love that God never convicts us of sin only to leave us crippled under its weight?  He always offers grace and restoration.

He did it for Peter, the one who betrayed Jesus three times on the night He was arrested.  Peter, who had sworn that even if he had to die, he would never deny Christ–now the betrayer.  How Peter’s heart must have been weighed down by shame and guilt.

Yet, God extended grace to Peter.

Three women traveled to Jesus’s tomb early in the morning on the first day of the week. They had remembered the spices, but had forgotten something else entirely.  Along the way, they realized they had no way to move that massive stone away from the tomb so they could even get in.

(Forgetting about things on your way somewhere—yeah, happens to me all the time.)

So, they arrived at the tomb and the door was open, the stone rolled away.  The tomb empty.  They stood in shock and confusion and then an angel told them, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid Him. But go, tell His disciples—and Peter—that He is going before you into Galilee; there you will see Him, as He said to you” (Mark 16:6-7).

“Go, tell His disciples—and Peter.”

He said to them, “Don’t forget Peter.   Don’t let his shame prevent his relationship with me and impede his future ministry.  I have forgiven him.  I’ve restored him.  I’ve called him and I want him specifically to know that he is invited.”

This grace, this mysterious, incomprehensible grace, means I am fully forgiven and washed clean.  Jesus doesn’t bring up my past in conversations years from now.  “Remember that time when you lost your temper . . . remember that time you were jealous.”  Oh no, Christ doesn’t shame me with my past mistakes.  Instead, He says, “Don’t forget Peter, “Don’t forget Heather,”  “Don’t forget my forgiven ones.”  We’ve been redeemed and made new and while we might want to hide our heads in shame, He is the lifter of our heads and the healer of our hearts.

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Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader.  Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness.  To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

Copyright © 2011 Heather King

Am I the One, Lord?

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“Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves.”  2 Cor. 13:15

Twelve disciples, one Savior, reclined and relaxed, celebrating Passover together in an Upper Room.  Thirteen share in a meal of remembrance that they would always remember and that we continue to remember.   The Last Supper.  Communion.  “Do this in remembrance of me.”

Together they have eaten and laughed, declared “For His mercy endures forever” and sung hymns in worship.  They are jovial, anticipatory, expecting Christ’s triumph in Jerusalem.

Jesus leans in, “While they were eating, he said, ‘I tell you the truth, one of you will betray me’ (Matthew 26:21, NLT).

Silence.  Stillness.  Seriousness.

If Jesus said this at the end of a church service today and the pianist played the quiet first notes of the closing hymn, many of us would be nudging our neighbor or making concerted efforts NOT to stare at the person across the room.  (Or, perhaps, making lunch plans and quieting the rumbles in our stomachs. )  It’s you, it’s you, it’s you—we might think.  That sermon is for you!  That heaviness of the Holy Spirit—it’s for you!  I’ve seen your sin.   I know your need to repent.

And yet, 12 disciples, “greatly distressed, each one asked in turn, ‘Am I the one, Lord?'” (Matthew 26:22, NLT).

Am I the one, Lord?

This seeking is our salvation.  We ask the dangerous question and we allow the Holy Spirit to turn over our hearts and reveal our own true need to be at the altar and lay it down.  Or the Holy Spirit searches, finds purity of heart, and invites us to pray for those around us still struggling.

It’s our complacency and satisfaction with our spiritual dwelling place that leads to our downfall.  It’s when we stake our claim to land and decide we’ve traveled enough in this road to Christ that we edge our way to danger.  I’m pure enough.  Good enough.  I’m not lukewarm.  I’ve conquered the “big” sins.  I read my Bible.  I pray.  I’m close to God.  I have a strong ministry.

I’m good.  Right here, in this place, I’m good here.

But this journey to Christ is ongoing.  As long as we are alive on this planet, we are imperfect creatures in need of an ever-closer intimacy with our Savior.

This moving to Christ requires moving away from something else.  It’s a necessity of the road.   In order to go forward, we must leave something behind.

That was true for Israel.  God called them to Canaan when He beckoned Abram out of Mesopotamia and its many gods and idols.  God called them back to the Promised Land when He led them out of Egypt and they left slavery for freedom.

They walked towards promise, but it involved rejection—rejecting the old definition of “normal.”  It was “normal” for those in Abram’s home town to pray to statues and worship bits of stone and wood.  It was “normal” in Egypt for male babies to be slaughtered simply for population control.

It’s “normal” for us to be too busy for God, to lose it with our kids, to be selfish, to feel jealousy, to cheat, to lie, to overindulge , to worry, to rebel, to gossip. . .  We think these sins are acceptable because everyone does them and no one can be perfect.

Yet, God calls us out of “normal” and into radical.  He doesn’t ask us the hard questions to shame us or humiliate us.  He does it to draw us close to Him so that we are “being transformed . . .from glory to glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18, NKJV).

Eugene Peterson wrote, “Repentance, the first word in Christian immigration, sets us on the way to traveling in the light.  It is a rejection that is also an acceptance, a leaving that develops into an arriving, a no to the world that is a yes to God.”

Peter sat at that Passover table and asked the dangerous question, “Am I the one, Lord?”  He allowed the searching of his heart.  It wasn’t him.  Eleven of those at the table endured their souls being turned over and could say that they were innocent of this betrayal.

Yet, then they stopped asking.  That’s our weakness, too.   When we stop asking the Holy Spirit to search us, when we become complacent and self-assured, it’s when we will betray.

Like Peter.  Jesus predicted Peter would deny Him.  “Peter answered and said to Him, ‘Even if all are made to stumble because of You, I will never be made to stumble.’  Jesus said to him, ‘Assuredly, I say to you that this night, before the rooster crowd, you will deny Me three times.’  Peter said to Him, ‘Even if I have to die with You, I will not deny You!’  And so said all the disciples” (Matthew 26:33-35, NKJV).

But, he was wrong.  Jesus arrested.  Jesus taken away in chains.  Jesus bullied, beaten, spat on, and mocked.  Peter in the courtyard answering the questioning accusations of others by the fire.  “I never knew the fellow.  I wasn’t one of his disciples.  I didn’t follow Him.”

He stumbled into betrayal because he was complacent.  Peter thought he knew what was in his heart, that he was right with God and strong in his faith.  So, he stopped asking, “Am I the one, Lord?” and started saying, “Not I.”

And so we must ask and keep on asking, “Search my heart, search my soul.  There is nothing else that I want more.  Shine Your light and show Your face.  In my life, Lord, have Your way, have Your way” (Hillsong United).

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Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader.  Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness.  To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

Copyright © 2011 Heather King