What About the Other Hand?

Yesterday while having my devotions, I had this thought.

Crucifixion is the only death you cannot accomplish on your own. Putting a gun in your mouth, cutting, harnessing yourself to a weight and jumping into the ocean, tying a rope to your neck - all of these offer you the power and control of the situation. Crucifixion on the other hand is not so easy. You can pierce your feet and nail your one arm, but what about the other hand? A part of you, while it seems minute in the whole scheme of things (your body would be wracked with pain at this point), there is still a piece of you that is not fully dead.

We cannot crucify ourselves to our fleshly nature and whims. We cannot mortify the deeds of the flesh to ourselves in our own strength. Should we try, we will never truly die - there will always be some area, no matter how small, that will be still be clinging to the fragments of sin.

Christ alone can truly crucify you . . . me. Indeed, He already has. Jesus has loosened the ropes and gag that had bound me to myself. My flesh has already been crucified with Christ. This life I now live, I must choose to live in faith, speaking truth to my soul that the word is dead to me, and I to the world.

For this reason, I rejoice in my death. I welcome it, cherish it, embrace it, breathe it. Death to myself means life to my spirit. In my external weakness, my soul is hid in the shadow of the Almighty. My flesh may beg for attention; why is it so painful? Yet, why do I afford it the listening ear? Sin has never done anything good for me, it deserves none of my recognition or respect. Christ alone brings fruition out of pain, strength out of weakness, life out of death.

Lord, take me deeper into the glories of Calvary.

The Well Will Not Run Dry

Ever feel completely drained?

I do.

On days like these, I stumble out of bed, feeling as rested as an insomniac running on four hours of sleep can be. I take out my Physics notebook and aim to conquer light refraction and wave length. My brain promptly conks out. I run errands with my mom across town, hit home for lunch, and head out to babysit for the rest of the afternoon. I'm physically tired from long days (those days when you wish bedtime was at 2 in the afternoon), early mornings (thanks, Insomnia), and late nights (I hate you, Insomnia). I'm spiritually starving because my Bible sits on the shelf while I run around trying to satisfy the demands of Real Life.

Some people would probably say the two are unrelated - physical and spiritual emptiness. I don't think so. One tends to exacerbate the other, and both together make for an unhappy combination.

It's ironic, really. The Word is meant to be our inexhaustible source of strength in the face of everything life throws at us, and yet right when life starts winding up for the pitch, we feel overburdened and let that all-important relationship begin to slide.

On nights like these, I make myself a cup of hot tea and sneak a cold apple dumpling from the fridge. I settle on my soft quilt and my cat jumps on the bed to cuddle. I put away the research report notes and open up the Word.

The well will not run dry.

Photo courtesy of a Well Traveled Woman