Wholeheartedly

“I will rejoice in doing them good, and I will plant them in this land in faithfulness, with all my heart and all my soul.” Jeremiah 32:41

I was spinning this verse a lot in my head yesterday. I find great comfort in the fact that God doesn’t do good to the faithful because He’s obligated by some law and simply has no choice. He doesn’t do good because it’s in the terms of His covenant, but it brings Him joy and delight to do good to His people.

There are many things I like to do and if I was asked on the spot, I’d need at least 5 minutes to order my thoughts because I have a long list of things that I am passionate about. If one cares to know what God likes to do, what is He passionate about, He answers that Himself to the prophet Jeremiah: He likes to do good to His people. That’s His passion. His delight. How determined is He in that endeavour? With ALL His heart and ALL His soul. Holding nothing back.

Sometimes, when I am all despondent and bitter, after a prolonged battle with no end in sight, I begin to hear the liar in my head, "'He’s ignoring you’, ‘Does He even listen to your prayers? Do your tears mean nothing? Does your cry for help get lost on the way? Does He not care that you perish?" and many, many more darts like these aimed to crush my resolve. I’m not gonna lie, sometimes the darts find their target and I feel their poison to my very core, but that doesn’t negate all the times I raise my shield of faith and block them out. How? By reminding myself that God is not a human that He should lie or change His mind (Numbers 23:19). That in Him there is no alteration in His nature or shadow of change (James 1:17). That whatever He says with His mouth is true (Isaiah 45:23) and not just designed to give me vain hope. And if He says that He rejoices in doing good to His people, then it means that whatever I go through right now, somehow is meant for my good. I am not required to understand it or articulate the exact process because God knows I tend to call any discomfort evil and every comfort good. But I know that He is good, so good that He can’t stand the sight of evil (Habakkuk 1:13). That makes me conclude only that whatever He’s doing or allowing is ultimately going to work for my good (Romans 8:28). He delights in doing me good. True, that good sometimes hurts. But it is good, nonetheless.

I love my dog, Monty. I mean LOVE. I take care of him. Sometimes he hates my care because he can’t understand my reasons. Like when I give him a bath, you’d think I take him to the slaughter. If I trim his nails, he even limps to prove that he was truly hurt by my action. If I groom him, he acts as if I have betrayed him. When he was sick and having to wear a cone around his neck, he would sit in a corner and watch me with a squint for hours. When it was time for his medicine, my sweet and gentle beagle would growl at me, but guess what? I was determined to do him good! I give him his dinner and 5 minutes later he barks at me for a treat resorting to all sorts of tricks which as cute as they are if I were to indulge him, he’d be even fatter than he is! He might feel that I’m stingy, but I love him, and I know in the long run it harms him. My ways are not his ways. I’m sure he’d want things differently. He can’t always see love and care in my actions. It’s the same for my relationship with The Lord. His actions seem outright awful to me sometimes. But He is determined to do good for His child. Wholeheartedly. Not because He tolerates my existence, but because He loves me infinitely more than I love my dog, as hard as that is for me to imagine. 

 "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Isaiah 55:8-9)

 by Cristina Pop

Ranting

To whom it may concern,

I wasn’t born again because I carefully considered options and concluded this is the best way. I wasn’t born again because it was the most logical way to live my life. I wasn’t born again because having such a weak spirit and intellect I was overcome by some crafty Christian with well-constructed arguments bent to add more members to whatever denomination. I wasn’t born again because the council of some Church examined me and decided I exhibit signs of new life. Absolutely NOT!

I was born again because God decided to give me life. I was born from Him and for Him. He carried me inside Himself not for 9 months, but since before time began. When the time for my birth came, while I was dead in my sins, like He called Lazarus out of his grave, I was called out of my sin, and I lived. He delivered me with much, much pain and suffering, in fact He died to give me birth.

Whatever I am now, I am by His grace and His grace towards me has not been in vain. No human has a claim on me because I wasn’t born again out of the will of any human. I’m being asked ‘what are you?’, meaning what denomination. Let’s get something straight, if a denomination would have delivered me, I would have looked like said denomination or Christian branch. If an ideology would have delivered me, I would have looked like said ideology. BUT, since The Holy One True God has delivered me, He is the only One entitled to demand I look like Him.

No denomination carried me while I looked like one abnormally born, He did! He tore Himself to pieces on a cross to give me life. He cleansed me. He cut my umbilical cord. He put me in diapers. He gave me milk. He stayed up every hour of my sickness when I had a fever. He comforted me when I was crying my eyes out for some imagined peril. He told me stories that birthed in me dreams to be like His heroes of faith. He was by my side while I wept my soul out. He was by my side when I was so happy, I thought I’d lose my mind. He was the One that rejoiced at my very first step. He was the One that was heartbroken at my straying. He was the One that tore His hands to shreds to reach me when I fell off a cliff. He nurtured me back to health. No human was with Him. He did that work alone in me, so He’s the only one that has any claim on me.

Let no one else ask me what I am, I AM HIS. That’s all that matters. Small minds and smaller spirits concern themselves with useless things like ‘I follow Paul, I follow Apollos, I follow Cephas’. Renew your minds and circumcise your hearts. You are of Christ if indeed you follow Him.

“Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” (1 John 3:2)

 

by Cristina Pop

 

Rebuilding walls

 

I have been thinking of Nehemiah for quite some time now. Why? Because I can relate to him.

He was one of the Jews in captivity in Babylon. He was a cupbearer to the king Artaxerxes. He probably was quite settled in Susa, the capital of the Babylonian Empire, and he probably had an easy-going life there. For a cupbearer he got as high up the food chain as one could probably get. Yes, he was a captive, but he had a good life. Then one of his brothers returns from a trip to Jerusalem and Nehemiah asks for news from the holy land, only to be told, “The remnant there in the province who had survived the exile is in great trouble and shame. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates are destroyed by fire.” (Nehemiah 1:3)

Nehemiah breaks down in tears before God and repents for his nation and feels a burden to go before king Artaxerxes and petition him for help. The king accepts and sends Nehemiah to go and rebuild the walls of the holy city.

A cupbearer with absolutely zero knowledge about building becomes obsessed with one thing and one thing only, REBUILD THE WALLS. Lack of ability aside, he’s so determined that he inspires others to join him in his quest. Happy ending, right? Nope. As he starts rebuilding, Sanballat and Tobiah, start mocking him and the workers, and when mocking doesn’t work, they start plotting against Nehemiah, trying to harm him and to stop the work. So, Nehemiah must become even more than just a cupbearer turned architect, he has to become a warrior. So much so that he’s building sword in hand, but he’s undeterred. He’s REBUILDING THE WALLS. The scoffers do what they know best, they scoff, “What are these feeble Jews doing? Will they restore it for themselves? Will they sacrifice? Will they finish up in a day? Will they revive the stones out of the heaps of rubbish, and burned ones at that?” Tobiah the Ammonite was beside him, and he said, “Yes, what they are building—if a fox goes up on it he will break down their stone wall!” (Nehemiah 4:2-3)

Nehemiah does what he does best, he prays and carries on. So, they plot to harm him, and they keep asking him to get down the wall and go meet with them, yet he’s resolute, “I am doing a great work and cannot come down. Why should the work stop while I leave it to go down to you?” (Nehemiah 6:3) He knows he’s no architect. He’s aware of just how frail he is, yet he proclaims it to his enemies: “a great work”. He keeps praying, keeps working and finishes the work.

I am Nehemiah. I have been taken captive into a situation that was, is and will be out of my control. My walls were torn down, and my gates burned to cinder. Again. I could accept it, or I could start rebuilding. AGAIN. I am no architect. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m building. Not because I heard a voice from heaven telling me to build, but because I believe in The One that allowed my walls to be torn to help me rebuild them.

“Moreover, the light of the moon will be as the light of the sun, and the light of the sun will be sevenfold, as the light of seven days, in the day when the LORD binds up the brokenness of his people, and heals the wounds inflicted by his blow.” (Isaiah 30:26)

My enemy doesn’t just sit there calmly accepting my decision. He has seen me building things before that have collapsed under the weight of a fly. So, when he mocks me, he’s not just spewing lies. He’s taunting me with my past failures because it’s true. I have built many things that sit in ruin. But I don’t think he’s ever seen me desperate to build a wall that will withstand the weight of loosing the closest, dearest thing to my heart. True, I am no architect. True, I’m just making it up as I go. True, I have failed before. Yet, I build! A thousand times over, or more. As long as I have breath in me, I will rebuild! With one hand I’ll lay my bricks and with the other I’ll carry my sword, yet I will build! I will trust You, that made Nehemiah’s wall stand to make mine stand also. You strengthen the bars of my gates! (Psalm 147:13)

“Violence shall no more be heard in your land, devastation or destruction within your borders; you shall call your walls Salvation, and your gates Praise.” (Isaiah 60:18)

 by Cristina Pop