Jesus. Mystery.

I am singing a new "song of the month" with Northridge Church on Sunday mornings and it is hard for me to get through without being overwhelmed with emotion. I am not sure if any of the other former Catholics in the congregation have the same feelings that I have when I sing the refrain:

Christ has died
Christ has risen
Christ will come again


I have a hard time not weeping. I would like to think that it is because of the beauty and simplicity of this "mystery of our Faith" but I think it has more to do with how thankful I am that God pursued me. He caused me to be born into a family with parents that loved Him dearly. They kicked my butt out the door on Sunday to gather with the church and worship Him. The sacrificed mightily so that I could learn about Him from kindergarten straight through 12th grade. They made sure I got to vacation Bible school...even when the only alternative was the Lutheran church down the road or the backyard Bible club on Florence Avenue. They prayed with me and for me and made sure that there was plenty of God-centered literature in the house. They weren't perfect, but if I am 10% of who they were then I will be a happy man.

But more than who they are and were is who God is. He did all of that and more in their lives and, mystery, He even did it in mine. This God who has taken away my sin ran after me with the remedy and that is celebration! He kicked the door down in my life showing me my impotence and gave me new life in Him. He corrected my vision and has built a home in my heart. How could I have ignored Him for so long?

These feelings, this thankfulness swirls in my heart as the song crescendos into the final singing of the chorus. No one but God could have done this in my life. Nothing this world offers could have given me what I so desperately needed and still, daily, need.

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