...what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints...
"Oh God to know, really know, the riches of the glory of Your inheritance! Oh to know You and who You are in perfection. Oh to know You in the deep parts, and to be found in utterness in You.
To be found in Your presence, splendor, and majesty Oh God...that is all I seek. To know You the way that You know me. Lord, I lay all other things at Your feet. Finances, future, ambitions...God You are my desire. I don’t want the fruit of ambition…I want an inheritance from You! I pray for You to reveal to me Your wisdom in leading, and Your passion to be made manifest in my life."
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Ephesians 1:17-19: Prayer Room Note Series One, Part Five
...that ye may know what is the hope of his calling...
Calling. I wonder what the original disciples thought when Christ called them. For a rabbi to take on a student in the Jewish culture meant that the student had toiled long and hard in studying the Scripture to have a rabbi look at them and invite them to share his yoke. It's quite the comedy of heaven that Jesus, instead of going to the white collar bookworms, went to the blue collared workers. At the mystery of that, the disciples followed. Maybe it was a dream come true for them...or maybe it was a "too good to be true" happening that they didn't even believe was real until they said, "Yeah, let's go...why not?" The truth of the fact just being that the call here is a surrealistic invitation to something great, but not only a generic moving to a different vocation...but to a different life. With this audacious invitation is hope...or in the greek: elpis: confidence, expectation. The expectation of this calling is interweaved with the fact that on my own I do not have the qualifications (in myself) for the inheritance that God has for me. But He calls me His child and invites me to (not only life eternal but to) a partnership, a relationship, and a new identity.
"Here I am, Lord, send me. I give You my heart with its own weakness, and lay down my own ambition and striving to come to You. I come to You as a child. I trust You and Your ways. Let me be a living love letter to this world that they may to know what is the 'hope of Your calling.' Lord, please in Your wisdom please guide me and fill me with the words that You want to speak. Amen"
Calling. I wonder what the original disciples thought when Christ called them. For a rabbi to take on a student in the Jewish culture meant that the student had toiled long and hard in studying the Scripture to have a rabbi look at them and invite them to share his yoke. It's quite the comedy of heaven that Jesus, instead of going to the white collar bookworms, went to the blue collared workers. At the mystery of that, the disciples followed. Maybe it was a dream come true for them...or maybe it was a "too good to be true" happening that they didn't even believe was real until they said, "Yeah, let's go...why not?" The truth of the fact just being that the call here is a surrealistic invitation to something great, but not only a generic moving to a different vocation...but to a different life. With this audacious invitation is hope...or in the greek: elpis: confidence, expectation. The expectation of this calling is interweaved with the fact that on my own I do not have the qualifications (in myself) for the inheritance that God has for me. But He calls me His child and invites me to (not only life eternal but to) a partnership, a relationship, and a new identity.
"Here I am, Lord, send me. I give You my heart with its own weakness, and lay down my own ambition and striving to come to You. I come to You as a child. I trust You and Your ways. Let me be a living love letter to this world that they may to know what is the 'hope of Your calling.' Lord, please in Your wisdom please guide me and fill me with the words that You want to speak. Amen"
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Ephesians 1:17-19: Prayer Room Note Series One, Part Four
"...the eyes of your understanding being enlightened..."
I want to understand. A friend of mine was killed last week. It hurts, especially because the person who killed her was someone close to her (her husband), and also a person that I've known. It's been a year or two since I've spoken to either of them. Could something I had done change today? I don't know. I just don't understand.
Here in the greek, the word for understanding is "dianoia," which means: deep thought, properly the faculty (mind or its disposition). The situation that happened here is really screwed up, and I feel like I have nothing to give the situation. [Enter the prayer room] I feel that all I can do is cry out...to yell at the sky, and weep on the floor. "Why God!?!" The dianoia here in this moment is the big picture. The wisdom, the revelation, and the knowledge of Him present in this moment. And not just a surface mental "making sense of," but a deep well of understanding; knowing well that God sees clearly the big picture. A cry for understanding is a cry to see what God sees...that He would reveal that to my own eyes in their murky blindness.
"God, it hurts. I don't understand. But I trust You. Though I don't understand, I trust. My prayer is that I would see clearly through Your eyes; and not just in this situation, but the small scope of my life. What is a man, but a breath? Lord, let this breath count. I pray."
I want to understand. A friend of mine was killed last week. It hurts, especially because the person who killed her was someone close to her (her husband), and also a person that I've known. It's been a year or two since I've spoken to either of them. Could something I had done change today? I don't know. I just don't understand.
Here in the greek, the word for understanding is "dianoia," which means: deep thought, properly the faculty (mind or its disposition). The situation that happened here is really screwed up, and I feel like I have nothing to give the situation. [Enter the prayer room] I feel that all I can do is cry out...to yell at the sky, and weep on the floor. "Why God!?!" The dianoia here in this moment is the big picture. The wisdom, the revelation, and the knowledge of Him present in this moment. And not just a surface mental "making sense of," but a deep well of understanding; knowing well that God sees clearly the big picture. A cry for understanding is a cry to see what God sees...that He would reveal that to my own eyes in their murky blindness.
"God, it hurts. I don't understand. But I trust You. Though I don't understand, I trust. My prayer is that I would see clearly through Your eyes; and not just in this situation, but the small scope of my life. What is a man, but a breath? Lord, let this breath count. I pray."
Friday, February 11, 2005
Ephesians 1:17-19: Prayer Room Note Series One, Part Three
...the Father of glory, may give to you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him..."
I'm hungry. Not like food hungry, I'm God hungry. I believe that faith in Christ is a supernatural curiousity. It keeps you coming back for more, and no matter how much you've experienced, you always want to experience more. This is good and bad. It can be bad if you cling tightly to your past experiences...if your thirst is the experience. If this is the case you'll start to judge every experience through the limited scope of your past experience. But this thirst for more can be excellent if your thirst is to experience Jesus and not the experience. The prayer for "revelation in the knowledge" of Jesus is a thirsty prayer of more. In the greek it is: apokalupsis (revelation), a revealing, a coming, a manifestation. This is not a light statement, it's a mysterious dive into the unknown. It's is a crying out into the unknown, with the scary fact that the unknown can (and will) cry back. This prayer is a cry that if answered, it will not only blow the dust off of stale Christianty, but it will also shake "conventional belief" from its lukewarmness.
"God, I invite You to shake my foundation. Break fallow ground. I pray, draw me to my knees, and let me experience You in the brokenness of my humanity. Redeemer live loudly in me. Let me experience Your love new today. Let me experience Your mercy afresh. Let me know You like never before. Deeper. More intimate, I pray. Amen"
I'm hungry. Not like food hungry, I'm God hungry. I believe that faith in Christ is a supernatural curiousity. It keeps you coming back for more, and no matter how much you've experienced, you always want to experience more. This is good and bad. It can be bad if you cling tightly to your past experiences...if your thirst is the experience. If this is the case you'll start to judge every experience through the limited scope of your past experience. But this thirst for more can be excellent if your thirst is to experience Jesus and not the experience. The prayer for "revelation in the knowledge" of Jesus is a thirsty prayer of more. In the greek it is: apokalupsis (revelation), a revealing, a coming, a manifestation. This is not a light statement, it's a mysterious dive into the unknown. It's is a crying out into the unknown, with the scary fact that the unknown can (and will) cry back. This prayer is a cry that if answered, it will not only blow the dust off of stale Christianty, but it will also shake "conventional belief" from its lukewarmness.
"God, I invite You to shake my foundation. Break fallow ground. I pray, draw me to my knees, and let me experience You in the brokenness of my humanity. Redeemer live loudly in me. Let me experience Your love new today. Let me experience Your mercy afresh. Let me know You like never before. Deeper. More intimate, I pray. Amen"
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Ephesians 1:17-19: Prayer Room Note Series One, Part Two
"...may give you the spirit of wisdom..."
I want wisdom. Sure, I want to be smart, but I just want wisdom for the fullness of life. I mean, what matters? What doesn't matter? Solomon (The wisest King EVER) once said, "Vanity, it (life) is all vanity. A chase after the wind." (Not vanity in the sense of conceit, vanity in the sense of "emptiness") While meditating on this passage today I was hit by the next part of the verse, but not in the way you'd expect. I want wisdom, but the thing that stuck in my mind was the part of the phrase "may give." I'm still not sure exactly why, but I'm starting to realize that often when I pray for something, the thing I really want is not the actual objective thing I'm praying for, but instead the "may give." I just want a touch from the omnipresent God. What's more, the greek word for "may give" here is didomi, and one of its meanings is: to smite (+with the hand), or to strike (+with the palm of the hand). This prayer isn't a passive kind of prayer. It's an active prayer of desperation. It's not a "God if You feel like it can You send a little my way" kind of prayer, it's a "God please release it! I don't care if it kills me, I just want it so bad! Hit me with it!" I just want His wisdom, not the world's wisdom. His wisdom, and "revelation in the knowledge of Him" (ff). It's the desperate cry of the heavy laden, the burned out, those hanging on with the last of their strength.
"God, I long for Your didomi in my life. My heart's desire is You. None other. Give me what You desire to give me. I declare with the Psalmist that 'better is one day in Your courts, than a thousand anywhere else.'"
I want wisdom. Sure, I want to be smart, but I just want wisdom for the fullness of life. I mean, what matters? What doesn't matter? Solomon (The wisest King EVER) once said, "Vanity, it (life) is all vanity. A chase after the wind." (Not vanity in the sense of conceit, vanity in the sense of "emptiness") While meditating on this passage today I was hit by the next part of the verse, but not in the way you'd expect. I want wisdom, but the thing that stuck in my mind was the part of the phrase "may give." I'm still not sure exactly why, but I'm starting to realize that often when I pray for something, the thing I really want is not the actual objective thing I'm praying for, but instead the "may give." I just want a touch from the omnipresent God. What's more, the greek word for "may give" here is didomi, and one of its meanings is: to smite (+with the hand), or to strike (+with the palm of the hand). This prayer isn't a passive kind of prayer. It's an active prayer of desperation. It's not a "God if You feel like it can You send a little my way" kind of prayer, it's a "God please release it! I don't care if it kills me, I just want it so bad! Hit me with it!" I just want His wisdom, not the world's wisdom. His wisdom, and "revelation in the knowledge of Him" (ff). It's the desperate cry of the heavy laden, the burned out, those hanging on with the last of their strength.
"God, I long for Your didomi in my life. My heart's desire is You. None other. Give me what You desire to give me. I declare with the Psalmist that 'better is one day in Your courts, than a thousand anywhere else.'"
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Ephesians 1:17-19: Prayer Room Note Series One, Part One
"...the Father of glory..."
I began studying the Apostolic Prayer found in Ephesians 1:17-19 in the prayer room today. It starts out, "That the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory..." Well, I stopped on "the Father of glory," which was the first clue that God was wanting to let this prayer become a part of my heart. The chord that was struck was, of course, the otherness of God, but also the "glory." Now in the greek the word for glory used here is: "doxa" (dox'-ah), and is a wider application of the concept meaning: dignity, glory(-ious), praise, honor, worship. Maybe that's where we get "Doxology." Usually when I hear "glory," I think bright light, hosts of angels, more powerful than a waterfall, and more overwhelming than an atomic bomb. But in this context (while God is still all of the above) it is a more subtle otherness in this case. I'm drawn to my knees out of the pure fact that God being my "Father of glory" means that He is in fact the one thing in my life that is truely worthy to receive all dignity, glory, praise, honor, and worship. All other things will pass away. My family, my career, my body, my earthly possessions, all things will pass away. Today when I pray the prayer from Ephesians 1, I'm praying to the constant one who is all I have, when all is stripped away.
"Father of glory, here I come stripped of all things. I bow to You and Your ways, desiring only Your gaze. You alone are worthy. While the world rages in the whirlwind of history and of the present, I bow to You, thirsty to hear You and You alone speak "Peace" into the whirlwind of my life. Glory to You...and just You. Amen."
I began studying the Apostolic Prayer found in Ephesians 1:17-19 in the prayer room today. It starts out, "That the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory..." Well, I stopped on "the Father of glory," which was the first clue that God was wanting to let this prayer become a part of my heart. The chord that was struck was, of course, the otherness of God, but also the "glory." Now in the greek the word for glory used here is: "doxa" (dox'-ah), and is a wider application of the concept meaning: dignity, glory(-ious), praise, honor, worship. Maybe that's where we get "Doxology." Usually when I hear "glory," I think bright light, hosts of angels, more powerful than a waterfall, and more overwhelming than an atomic bomb. But in this context (while God is still all of the above) it is a more subtle otherness in this case. I'm drawn to my knees out of the pure fact that God being my "Father of glory" means that He is in fact the one thing in my life that is truely worthy to receive all dignity, glory, praise, honor, and worship. All other things will pass away. My family, my career, my body, my earthly possessions, all things will pass away. Today when I pray the prayer from Ephesians 1, I'm praying to the constant one who is all I have, when all is stripped away.
"Father of glory, here I come stripped of all things. I bow to You and Your ways, desiring only Your gaze. You alone are worthy. While the world rages in the whirlwind of history and of the present, I bow to You, thirsty to hear You and You alone speak "Peace" into the whirlwind of my life. Glory to You...and just You. Amen."
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Forever Running Home...Prayer Part 3
Prayer is my going home. Prayer isn't merely an empty action by which I make homage, try to please, or try to manipulate my Creator. It is the intimatacy of a child running into the house to its parent. Sometimes I come in dirty needing to be cleaned, sometimes I run in scraped up and crying, and sometimes I run in excited over something that happened in my day. At home I talk to my Heavenly Father, my best friend Jesus, or receive counsel from the Spirit.
It's so important for me to go home, because I don't completely "fit in" anywhere else. I might fit in partially, but not completely. Even within churches and strings of denominations (or "non-denominations"), I'm finding that as much as I love the Body of Christ I don't always fit in there too. To the traditionalist I'm too charismatic, to the charismatics I'm not charismatic enough, to the seekers I'm too deep, and all in all I love every denomination (and "non") to the point where they all think it's weird. Some think that I don't know what I believe. Well, my convictions and beliefs don't change wherever I go. I'm just looking to fit in. Don't get me wrong, there are places that I call home where I feel comfortable. I'm talking about the wide spectrum of Christian culture that exists in the US.
But I do fit in when I walk into my prayer closet, whether it be in my car, bedroom, in nature, or in a place of worship. I'm forever running home, until one day. One day I will never leave, so do not worry, or be surprised when it happens. I love home too much. One day I'll forever stay...no more running.
It's so important for me to go home, because I don't completely "fit in" anywhere else. I might fit in partially, but not completely. Even within churches and strings of denominations (or "non-denominations"), I'm finding that as much as I love the Body of Christ I don't always fit in there too. To the traditionalist I'm too charismatic, to the charismatics I'm not charismatic enough, to the seekers I'm too deep, and all in all I love every denomination (and "non") to the point where they all think it's weird. Some think that I don't know what I believe. Well, my convictions and beliefs don't change wherever I go. I'm just looking to fit in. Don't get me wrong, there are places that I call home where I feel comfortable. I'm talking about the wide spectrum of Christian culture that exists in the US.
But I do fit in when I walk into my prayer closet, whether it be in my car, bedroom, in nature, or in a place of worship. I'm forever running home, until one day. One day I will never leave, so do not worry, or be surprised when it happens. I love home too much. One day I'll forever stay...no more running.
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