Cozy, Lord?

“Don’t you know your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you?”
- 1 Corinthians 6:19
—

Create in me room enough, somehow, for Your gargantuan grace…

Or at least enough room for a little furniture…

A crooked lampstand. A wobbly table. A small altar.

And hey, I’ve got some art we could hang…

A faded picture of a Garden. Palm trees. Angelic things…

Or create in me just enough space, perhaps, for a thimbleful of Your grace…

Crack open in me enough room for a small breadcrumb of Your mercy…

You… Boundless as space. Nearer than breath. Make room in me for You…

-

When I was young I wondered how a King like You could fit inside a tiny thing like me…

Silly, right? But, God… I’m still wondering…

And now that You’re here, of all places… How’s it going in there? Are You cozy, Lord?

I’m sorry for the draft - my anger opened a window some time back and I still don’t know how to close it…

I’m sorry for the noise - I know, I know - I play my opinions loud so that I’ll feel significant…

Oh, and I’m sorry for the smell - I think my innocence crawled under the bed a while ago and died…

And I’m sorry for the clutter - but by the time I noticed the mess I’d kind of stopped caring…

I’m sorry, Lord… I’m sorry for it all…

… Still cozy, Lord?

-

You know… sometimes I catch you cleaning up my mess…

And, golly, Lord, You know you don’t have to do that…

No, really Lord… it’s so beneath you… And You’re my guest…

So, for real, Lord, stop it. You’re embarrassing me…

No, seriously, knock it off, Lord! I like my soul-room the way it is!

… I SAID STOP TOUCHING MY STUFF!

Your humility frustrates every fiber of my flesh…

Your meekness infuriates every inch of my ego…

You shall NEVER wash my feet, Lord…

… How could I EVER let You?

If You’re not cozy here, then maybe You should…

-

But… please, don’t leave me… Lord…

Not now… Not now that you’re here… Not now that I know you…

Not now that there’s a fire in my hearth again…

Not now that the curtains have been drawn and the sun is shining in…

Not now that I can see the color in the rose garden…

Not now that there’s singing and laughter and dancing in my halls again…

Oh, God. I’ll bite my tongue…

Go on, rearrange the furniture…

Rearrange me. Renovate me…

-

But please, Lord, go easy… be kind…

And, in the morning, we will sit in the sun…

Sit in the silence. Feel the hum. The sheer joy...

Then, in the evening, light the fire…

Talk while shadows flicker on our faces and the moon rises higher…

And my heart will find the words my pride would never say….

”Not just my feet, Lord… but my hands and my head too.”

Welcome home, High King of Heaven…

Though it’s humble, make it habitable.

And happy. And holy…

Oh, God… make it holy…

-

Start the music…

Start the feast…

Stoke the fire…

Shake the house with sacred shouts of seraphim…

Stay, King of Heaven. Stay.

-

“Every Christian is a sanctuary.” - AW Tozer

“He is going to make us into creatures that can contain His glory - living temples.” - C.S. Lewis, "Mere Christianity"

“Cleanse the inner man and you shall truly be the temple of God.” - Thomas à Kempis,

“You are the house of God. Not in symbol, not in imagination, but in actual fact. God is in you. You are the living temple of the living God.” - E. Stanley Jones

Brutal Truth. Dishonest Love.

Side with love or side with truth?
Benevolent fool or intelligent brute.
If you choose a side, you choose to lose.
And if you don’t, they’ll crucify you.

Brutal is truth without love.
A lifeless Book and flightless Dove.
The Lord of push and King of shove.
Horrendous nightmare, without love.

Dishonest is love without truth.
A spineless show. A happy rouse. 
Massaging the neck while tightening the noose.
Sweetly fall to your death, without the truth.

Wrenchingly narrow is the Way, 
Of loving truth in such a day;
Or of truthful love which dares to say, 
“Your debt of sin, God’s Son has paid.”

—

“Speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into Christ.” (Eph. 4:15)

The Doctor in Your Head.

He drives to work like he’s driving to prison.
What a dreadful inconvenience… working for money.
Even worse… working with people.

He’s an entitled yuppy. 
He hates his job but it’s all he cares about.
His kids don’t call anymore.

He pulls into his reserved spot and turns off “The Money Guy Show.”

He’s 12 minutes late.
He doesn’t hurry.
They can wait. 

“Good morning, doctor,” one of his nurses says, cheerfully.
“Okay,” he sighs. “What’s first?”
His tone sucked all the wind from the nurse’s sails. 

“Janet Klepper is ready for you in the exam room,” the nurse says with an unsure, upward inflection, dreading his reaction.

His head drops when he hears that name - chin to chest.
He drags his fingers down the side of his face, like he’s losing his grip on the edge of a cliff.

The doctor was generally happy to see a patient… one time.
But never more than once.

He had a mild intolerance for returners.
Complete disgust for regulars. 

And Janet Klepper was… a regular.

Even that word threatened his gag reflex.
His eye-roll reflex. 
His Oh-God-get-me-out-of-here reflex.

Her mere existence taxed him. Regularly.

It was ironic - how Janet’s countenance also dropped when the doctor entered the room. 
…They were a toxic couple.
Each made the other queasy. 

She felt guilty being sick again.
No. More than guilty… ashamed.

She’d been sickly since childhood.
Sometimes better. Sometimes worse.
Recently worse. 

Throughout her long life she’d suffered greatly under several physicians.
Spending untold amounts of money only to get worse.

And now this doctor, without ever speaking, confirmed her lifelong suspicion: her sickness made her a burden.

Somewhere, at the most fundamental, basic, human level… she was a burden.

She. Herself. Her very being. A burden.

The doctor knew it.
She knew it.
Everyone probably knew it.

But she needed the doctor…
She needed him like a bent nail needs a blow from a hammer.

Only he had the tools to straighten her out.
And if he couldn’t straighten her out for good, then at least he could smash her health into a type of sideways submission for a few days.

He quietly entered, and the room grew more silent with each step.
He was late, but his demeanor said his patience for Janet had run out long ago. 

From door to computer chair. 
No eye contact.
No conversation.
No compassion. 

He just stared lifelessly into the screen.
“Name and date of birth,” he asked… or stated, rather.

“He doesn’t know my name?” she thought.

He knew her name.
But he hated admitting it.
He thought saying her name would be like putting out food for a stray.

Janet “The Burden” Klepper. 
Janet “The Stray” Klepper.
Janet Klepper… The Leper.

If you didn’t answer quickly enough, he’d twitch his head just slightly in your direction, like he wondered if you might perhaps be deaf... or stupid.

Every word that left his mouth seemed to cost him something.
Like Janet’s presence was sapping the marrow from his soul.

“Am I breathing too loudly?” thought Janet, hoping not to offend him.
“Uh, it’s Janet Klepper... and July tenth, nineteen fifty-three,” she said timidly.

He didn’t confirm whether he heard her.

“Okay Mrs. Klepper… what can I do for you today?”
He swung the chair around in her direction.

She could tell he’d already decided she was just too dumb to realize she needed more water and sleep.

… I bet you can imagine the rest of the appointment. 

Eventually, Janet got what she thought she needed, and her symptoms abated for a time…
But she’d need to come back for more help.

The more help she sought, the more shame she felt.
The more shame she felt, the more help she needed.

But Janet never received what she longed for most…
What she needed most.
Compassion. Care. Love. 

Someone so acquainted with her ailments that they could offer a real, lasting cure.

A physician who would welcome her as often as she needed.

A healer who would be happy to treat her, because helping sick people is what gets him out of bed in the morning.

Someone who could dare to believe that she was not a burden… and could dare her to believe it too. 

—

Friend… if you’re anything like me, then you’re Janet Klepper and the doctor is the Jesus you believe in.

But he’s not the Real Jesus. 
We made him up. 
He’s the doctor in your head.
Imaginary, nightmare Jesus.

The Jesus in your head is tired of your regular visits.
He’s exhausted by your ailments. 
You’ll get very little comfort or compassion from Him.
He’ll wear you down with guilt and shame.

He’ll convince you, without even speaking, that your identity and worth are bound up in your failures and weaknesses.

Eventually, you’ll need help because your “helper” is actually your accuser.

…But the Jesus of the Bible welcomes you. Again and again and again. He welcomes crushed and burdened people to offload their heaviness on Him (Matthew 11:28-30). 

He is mighty fond of strays… and strays tend to be mighty fond of Him too (Matthew 9:10-11).

Advocating for you is how He prefers to spend His time in heaven. Helping you is what brings Him the most joy (Hebrews 7:25, 12:2).

He’ll never grow tired of your repeated cries for help. He understands that it’s hard being human (1 Peter 5:7; Hebrews 4:15).

Remember also, before you could seek His help, He sought to help you. Jesus the Physician came to you, dear one (Romans 3:11, 5:8; Mark 2:17).

Try to imagine how much love and compassion He has for you if He left heaven, took on human flesh, lived in the dirt and died on a cross in order to make you His patient. 

…You can’t. You can’t even imagine! (Ephesians 3:19).

And now that you’re His patient, you can’t  exhaust Him by being a regular. He’s inexhaustible. In fact, He is endeared to you especially because you are a regular. He’s well acquainted with your ailments, and knows the cure for each one (2 Timothy 2:13).

He has moved in to you - taken up residency inside you. His Spirit is no mere neighbor. He indwells you. He’s the regular! And He invites you to be a regular too (Galatians 4:6).

He’s a friend of sinners! 
Blessed me! 
Blessed you! 
(Matthew 11:19).

Make His heart glad by being a regular.
You’ll find a Friend.
An Advocate.
A Physician.
You’ll find rest for your soul.

”Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” - Matthew 11:28-29