Fighting with Myself

I don't know about you but when I got up this morning, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, got on the scale, took my vitamins, and picked out my clothes for the day.  I paid attention to any new aches, stretched my muscles and got ready to go to the gym.  I may have registered a new wrinkle or blemish.  I paid a lot of attention to my flesh and blood body.  Then I remembered.

While we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened because we do not wish to be unclothed, but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling so that what is mortal will be swallowed up in life.--2 Corinthians 5:4

This body will not last.  It does not house my life. My life comes from God.
In fact, my body ties me to sin.  

God has redeemed my soul.  He lives in me.  So my body, which is still corrupt, still dying, exists as a constant opponent to what lasts forever--my Life, my God.

Because my body does not bring me real life, I walk day after day in uneasy communion, frustration, and war. Until God redeems and restores my physical body as He has done for my soul, I will continue to do this.

My body is mortal--belonging to death.  God is Life. 

The Spirit of God lives in me and, as such, glorifies God.  It can do nothing else.  While I yet live in a body, my job is to remember that His Spirit can and must overcome my  body.  His Spirit is stronger because it came from Him and what life I have comes from that Spirit.

While I live, body and Spirit war constantly, but the Spirit conquers whatever indulgence I am tempted to grant the body.  This is the root and purpose of self-control.  I train my body, which dwindles to eventual dust, to obey my Spirit, which lives forever.

So I still brush my teeth, and try to stay fit, but remember that I cannot become more beautiful or more comfortable.  I will become less so the longer I live.  Not only will my body continue to decline, but as my Spirit becomes stronger, the tension between them will continue to build.  The war between them doesn't end while I live, but escalates as my body demands more and my Spirit grows in God.

We groan inwardly as we wait for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.  For in this hope we were saved.  Who hopes for what he already has?...If we hope for what we do not have, we wait for it patiently.--Romans 8:23-25

Anywhere But Here

Some circumstances just stand out in life.  Like signposts punched into the crossroads of days, they mark places we don't forget.

One of the markers in my life came from my sweet stepmother Maggie.  While my father suffered from Alzheimer's, getting progressively sicker and more difficult and unpredictable, she served him patiently and with almost seamless love.  It cost her, and she grew thin from it, but somehow, the weariness rarely showed on her face.  She smiled and comforted with hardly any visible personal distress.

One day, when I asked her how she was doing, she took my hands, looked me in the eye, and said, "I don't ever want to be anywhere but here."  Years later, I still find that absolutely amazing. It seems like I spend so much of every day's space thinking about somewhere else.

I confess impatience with life.  It's not just that life brings trouble.  It's that life is so often so darned, well, ordinary.  And I am willing to do the mundane, but in the process, I sure expect something significant and enlarging and ALIVE.  But life doesn't work that way.

When the woman saw that the fruit was good for food and pleasing to the eye and desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it.--Genesis 3:6

Eve had the same problem as I do.

I constantly look here and there for something better than what I have, thinking that life is bigger than what lies right at my feet. But God has already shown me the path of life. He says so.


These are the days of my life.  Right here.  Right now.  Just as they unfold, the beautiful and the mundane.  If I don't live them, waiting for something different,  I will not only miss the grand and lofty, I will miss everything.

These days, every one of them, are gifts from God.  I need to live them, expecting beauty not because of what the days bring, but because of who God is.  The wonder of days, after all, does not come from their own unfolding hours; it comes through God's ordination.  

Days have beauty simply by virtue of their creation by God. That is why I rejoice and am glad in them.

I have come so that they may have LIFE and have it to the full.--John 10:10 (my emphasis)

I do not ever have to wait one more minute for life to begin.  It races by second upon second.  I spend it as I talk or write or love.  I also spend it while I grumble or argue or look around somewhere else.  Life is my Lord's wonderful gift, unwrapping itself with each breath.

Breathe in, breathe out.  Live. Now.

Already Begun, Part 2

When my children were small, I remember beginning their training with short words and simple sentences.  "Don't lie. Don't hit. Don't steal."  When they grew a bit, I offered them alternatives.  "If you eat your dinner, you'll get dessert.  If you don't finish, your dad will eat your cake." They understood these principles and, in their own way, were grateful for that understanding.

In Part 1, we talked about how a new year not only comes in the middle of our own life story, but also well into God's plan for His world.


God, a much wiser parent than me, gives us simple, straightforward choices, too.

This day I call on heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses.  Choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to His voice, and hold fast to Him.--Deuteronomy 30:19a


Following simple instructions first is how we grow up in God.  Just like a toddler learns that she is not the center of the universe by doing what she does not want to do so that she can get what she does want, so do we.

We acknowledge sin so we can enjoy the benefits of truth.
We repent so that we may be saved.
We forsake sin so we can approach God.

We do not want to do any of these things, but this is the choosing God commands, the casting of our lot with life rather than death.

And like a good parent, God not only tells us what to do, but why to do it.
Listen to His voice and hold fast to him,
For the Lord is your life.--Deuteronomy 30:19b

We not only follow the Lord to attain life, but the Lord IS Life.  Life is not the blood that beats in our veins or the breath that fills our lungs.  It is not thoughts or actions or desires.  Life is HIM.  When we choose Him, we choose the life we were born to, the life we walk through, dream through, fight through.  When we choose Him, He gives life, and we do not wither, but grow.

And He has more.
See Part 3.

Already Begun, Part 1

We forget sometimes that the story has already started and we have come into the middle of it.  The Bible, in presenting its genealogies, reminds us that we are works in progress, both as individuals and as parts of God's overall plan.

The story of our lives, my friends, has already begun.

Beginnings lack perspective.  By nature one-dimensional, beginnings carry no weight of history or experience behind them.  A baby, for instance, never having known any challenge or discomfort in its snug pre-born home, thinks he has plenty of reasons to cry.  He is only starting to learn pleasure from pain.  Give him time.  What produces a wail today won't even register on his radar in twenty years.

Our faith lives are the same.
No wonder we call our first look into the face of Christ being born again.

We need to spend time with Christ, too--time to learn, to experience, to trip and fall, to rise and overcome.  And time to know the difference.

We are already on the way.  2012 may be just beginning, but it does so in the middle of our journey, a journey of both years and faith. A new year may present an opportunity to stop an look around for a moment, to get our bearings, but as we do, to notice that the road already stretches behind and beyond.

The real beginning occurred long ago, in the mind of God during His first breath of conception.  Every life stretches forth from that one clear point.  Before we every looked on this world, we took our place in it by virtue of God's sovereign intent.

Only one thing remains--to reach out and grab what God has already conceived.

I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me—Philippians 3:12b

On this day at the beginning of a new year, our ongoing life story does not begin, or even begin again.  It continues with resolute steps toward Christ.

And now that we have found our first place, He has more.
See Part 2

Covered by the Night

Nights stretch long at this time of year.  And sometimes, they weigh heavy, too.  In deep winter, I question more, consider longer, and lose resolve.  I feel weak, and I am not accustomed to weakness. 

What I feel, however, is not new.

From the ends of the earth, I call to you. I call as my heart grows faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.--Psalm 61:2

I cried like a swift or a thrush. I moaned like a mourning dove. My eyes grew weak as I looked to the heavens. I am troubled, O Lord. Come to my aid!--Isaiah 38:14

I remember that life is not turning out the way I planned. I feel alone and helpless, still like a  baby when I thought to have figured some of life out. I expected to have gained some wisdom by now, but feel as unsure as ever.

God's message to me hasn't changed, however.

When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.--Psalm 94:19

Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you. He will never let the righteous fall.--Psalm 55:22

What consolation, I wonder? I am not righteous. What sustenance can you offer, God?

And who is equal to such a task?--2Cor 2:16

Nothing good lives in me, in my sinful nature. I have the desire to do good, but I cannot carry it out.--Romans 7:18

I am a grown woman, but feel like a helpless child. Wisdom flies from me and I can't find the answers I need so badly.

This is the important part:

My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in weakness.--2Corinthians 12:9

When Jesus saw the faith of the paralytic, He said to him:

Take heart, son, your sins are forgiven.--Matthew 9:2

When He saw that the woman who had bled for twelve years looked for healing in only the hem of His robe, He said:

Take heart, daughter, your faith has healed you.--Matthew 9:22

You know that I am weak, Lord. But You come in the very weakest hour. You look for my faith and the instant You see it, lift me up. In the flesh, I am bare, completely uncovered, without protector. But You cover me. My only unreserved attachment must be to You. Life falls short. Neither husbands nor children nor aspirations fill the void. But as I look to You, You do. Only faith, by sheer grace, makes us well.

My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods. With singing lips I will praise You. On my bed I will remember You. I think of You through the watches of the night.--Psalm 63:5-6

The night still covers me. I am still unaccustomed to weakness, but God is enough.

Open It, for Heaven's Sake!

I like to give gifts. Most of us do, I think, and while we do, we imagine the delight of the recipient--their quick smile, their laugh, their grateful hug. Consider, then, a scenario in which we give our loved one something we hope they will treasure, but, after they unwrap it, they say it just doesn't fit, that surely we should have given them something else. In reality, loved ones probably don't tell us this, but we do.  We do it all the time regarding one of the best gifts we ever received. We do this with our lives.

God gave us life. A human, heartbeating, blood coursing, emotion-filled life. He did not do this by accident.

God made me human. I am born flesh, not spirit. I live as a human, not an angel. God does not want me to deny or eschew what He has bestowed in order to try to be something else. Yes, I must repent from my sin, but He does not want me to apologize for life. God tells me to live.

True, Paul tells me to die to myself. He does not mean, however, to die completely. In putting aside my sin, my selfishness, my pride, I do not put aside my life. It may feel like it, but I do not. Instead, faith and obedience to God sanctifies me, dedicates the life I live in the flesh to God. Living my life in the flesh for God makes me holy.

I am crucified in Christ and I no longer live. The life I live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.--Galatians 2:20

God gives human beings life, this day and every day, and declares it the stage upon which He wants us to reflect His own Self. He made it specifically for us as a gift. He does not give us life for us to treat it as a drudge or a burden. Neither does He expect us to be spiritual beyond what the bounds of our flesh permit.  

God wants us to appreciate life exactly as He gave it to us, to value it and enjoy it within His ordained parameters, and as we do this, to see His glory.  He wants us to live as beloved men and women, sure that our humanity is not a mistake, but a design blessed by God.


We are not perfect, but are loved beyond our imperfection.


I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.--Psalm 27:18

Open your gift.  Live.

Enjoying the Dance

I'm not usually fond of country music, but some years ago, country stations were playing a song that went something like, "Life's a dance you learn as you go..." I liked that. When I heard its carefree melody, I couldn't help thinking about how we really do learn how to live.

Then I realized that it is good an proper for a man to eat and drink and to find satisfaction in his toilsome labor under the sun during the days of life God has given him--for this is his lot. Moreover, when God gives any man wealth and possessions, and enables him to enjoy them, to accept his lot and be happy in his work--this is a gift from God. He seldom reflects on his life because God keeps him occupied with gladness of heart.--Ecclesiastes 5:18-20

God shows us in simple terms how to live. He puts our proper circumstances squarely before our eyes and tells us to enjoy them. He tells us not to plot and plan for a future we may never have. He cringes when we spurn His gift of days and say, "I wish" or "I want."

I keep thinking that I have to change my circumstances, to fix everything, but do I really? Has not God determined the days of my life for my benefit? I have to work, of course, but do I have to spend so much time figuring stuff out? Hasn't God done that already?

God gives some things and takes others away, but will not leave us lacking. In the end, I think that my real job is to receive smiling the circumstances that God brings not because they are all happy, but because He brought them. If I can do that, if I can find God in all my circumstances, then I will be happy because we will be together.

Life really is a dance we learn as we go and God wants to dance every dance with us, every moment of our whole lives, to every beat of our hearts, keeping the tempo of His unending song.

Looking into the Bush

Days in the sheepfold stretched out long and peaceful. Moses listened to shy wind in the trees, watched mild sheep graze in long fields. Birds sang and, though his ears always rose attentive for the wolf, he brought his animals in and out in satisfaction. His wife waited at home with a hot meal and his children wrapped their arms around his legs in greeting when he walked through the door. He worshiped God in those days, and lived in as much harmony with Him as exile allowed. God gave him a good life and he lived it in gratitude.

Now, Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the desert and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in the flames of fire from within the bush. God called to him from within the bush, "Moses, Moses!" Then He said, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.--Exodus 3:1,2,4,6

The bush burned, but did not burn up. The flames crackled and their heat drove Moses back in fear. Their light hurt his eyes. And it did not extinguish. It lit the desert before him, illuminated Horeb as a backdrop. What moments before had been an ordinary day burned with glory that left him barefoot and shaking. He found no comfort here.

That day, You called Moses to more--more than shepherding, more than father and family, more than content Hebrew exile. You set him on a road that would eventually shred his old life, but one on which he would see you face-to-face.

You do the same for us. The leap we make when we initially set out eyes on Your road and start walking is only the first. At some point, You ordain a second. Some day, while we are peacefully attending our flock, faithfully seeing to the life You have given, studying, worshiping, serving, You call our name and beckon us to more. You set a bush aflame before us, rise up in new glory, and say "Here I AM!"

That day, You call us to worship only You--not an image of You, not an idea of You, not the motion of worship, not a reflection of You. You intend to shred our life, too, and fill the void with Yourself. That is the second moment of decision, and we face it in fear, because You have unmasked Yourself before us.

Thought for today: In what ways is God calling you to more than a well-managed life with Him? Where do you feel the fear of abandoning your life to Him?

Waiting for the Second Cry

Bright pain, muscles involuntarily heaving, a rush of blood and water, and another human being is born. The baby draws first breath and begins his life, most often with a cry. He takes possession of the first of his days , seeing and feeling, moving and exclaiming. He knows his life and will not give it up easily. I have sometimes measured the pace of my own breaths or, in particularly focused times, heard the rush of blood pacing the beats of my own heart. Life is physical, palpable, and so very real.

It also slides inevitably to final conclusion, usually lasting eighty years, more or less--long years of failure and triumph, all belonging to me, all trailing behind like dust I track in on my boots. Somewhere during my years, I found You. This is where I am supposed to say everything changed, but it didn't. Only some things did. I moved over, shared my life with You, and found You beautiful, generous, forgiving, and just. I learned to measure my life, not against other humans, but against Yours.

Yes, You became a man so that I could know what kind of man to be. But You have more:

Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God--children born not of natural descent, or of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God--John 1:12-13
I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.--John 3:3

I am too concerned with the moments of my life--how I spend them, how even I sacrifice them. You wait for the time when I care less about my life in You and more about Your life in me. You say I am born again, but this birth is not another human birth with a new twist. It does not give me another life. It ordains instead Your life in me.

My new birth does not create a new, holy version of me. My new birth isn't mine at all--it's Yours, taking on my flesh, You becoming part of me completely, the only way Your perfection allows. If I am made holy, it is not because I live in You, but because You live in me. If I cry this time, I cry with wonder.

Thought for today: If you are born again, what exactly has been born in you?

Whose Life is it, Anyway?

Sixty years ago today, amid bright pulsing pain and a rush of blood and water, my mother gave me birth. I drew my first breath in this world, saw first light, knew cold. I cried then and, for the first time, consciously lived. I did nothing to initiate this, but grasped it with both hands. Life. My life. Mine.

For sixty years, I have marked time by the beat of my own heart, commanded long muscle to move, watched my own coalescing breath. I have married and borne children of my own, bought and sold, learned, then spoken and written. I have desired and acted on those desires. By the sheer power of my own will, I have changed the world. I have LIVED.

I know You gave me this life. Men and women can will union, but not its product. The creation of life's spark belongs to You alone. And so with mine. You made this life specifically for me, then gave it to me as a gift. Or did You?

For a long time, it seemed so. But slowly, I lost possession. You began to take it back. I know when this started. It began the first time I called you Lord. You showed me how desire became sin, then made me push it away in disgust. You showed me how will becomes stubborn disobedience and wrenched me from it. You turned my steps down only Your path. Every day, by your command, I shrink. Soon, I may disappear, become a star that simply fades against a velvet background and eventually winks out. What is happening to my life?

For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that His life may be revealed in our mortal body.--2Corinthians 4:11
He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life.--1John 5:12

You gave me this life; now You take it back, not to leave me with nothing, but to replace it with something greater. You gave me this life so that I understand not how great it is, but how great You are. Once I know You, really know you, You will take my life completely back and give me Yours in its place. I want this, but tremble and hold on. I do not know any more where I end and You begin, but my grip loosens daily. Some day, some sweet day, my fingers will fall open.

My Father's Orchard

Early evening sun sinks into red western skies. A farmer walks through lush orchards--the harvest nears. Row after long row stretch out before him. He planted them with his own expectant, prayerful hands years ago, when time stretched as far before him as his dreams. Now, he can count the number of harvests that remain to him on his own fingers. He approaches the end.

The orchard will live after him, but he has no son, no child to work what he so carefully built. There were sons, but they moved on to other places. They had their own dreams.

"No thanks, Dad."
"It's too much work."
"I can't make enough money."
"Are you kidding? I've been stuck here long enough."

Without attention, his orchard will sink into unproductive wilderness but, more than that, when his sons reject the orchards, they reject him. Everything he'd tried to teach them originated with these trees.

You do the same.

Yet to all who received Him, to all who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God.--John 1:12

To the ancient patriarchs, You reigned as God, great and terrible. They served You, You dealt with their sins, and they knew the terrible weight of disobedience. They lived at arm's length from You, never in Your embrace.

But to me, you offer kinship. I can flourish in Your love and inherit Your favor. But I have to receive what You offer, what You built for me, as my own because it came from You. You gave me life and grew the great trees that You mean to hold it up. You did the planting, nourishing, and pruning, and You hand it to me as a gift. I have only to reach out my hand.

Toward Bethany

I woke up this morning, like you did, opened my eyes, and took a first conscious breath. I still lived. I rejoice in that and no wonder. Life is a great gift. At the same time, however, I know what still waits. The days of my life are numbered and today, one fewer of them remains.

Life, in fact, frames itself in deaths. Not only does physical ability decline, but the cross also casts its relentless shadow. My flesh eventually fails on its own, but Your example of sacrifice says that I must voluntarily kill my independent will. I must join You there, on the cross.

I don't want to do this, of course, but that's because I have not looked far enough ahead. You not only tell me to die with You, You tell me to rise with You.

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which He has called you, the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints and His incomparably great power for all who believe. That power is like the working of His mighty strength which He exerted in Christ when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly realms.--Acts 1:11

You created me in Your image and want me to follow You. Your path lead to Calvary and so does my own. I daily work out my salvation, my own death to sin and self-indulgence. But Your path came through the empty tomb and straight to Bethany, where you ascended in the power You always possessed, but did not exercise.

Bethany waits for me, too. My physical life's days tick off one by one, but Your power lifts me from their progress toward death. As I lay down the days of my life before You, You raise me to Your side. My own ascension will not come through practical or physical victory, it comes only in greater proximity to You.

You told me that You will take me to be where You are. So I look to You, and walk toward Bethany.

Thought for today: Toward what destination are you walking?

So Close in This First Hour

Around here, summer nights often bring sudden storms. Thundering, shaking rumbles become a startling alarm reminding me that men do not comprise the most powerful force on earth. I remember that You never appear to men in sun-bathed meadows, but in fire and flash. You dwell nearer in a thunderstorm.

I doodle through so much of life...sashaying from one task to the next, making phone calls, picking up a broom or a book, going to the movies. So little consequence.

Someone told me recently that most folks live a life of 25,000 hours. Only that. If that is true, and the math bears it out, of how much value is each one of those? How much have I sacrificed if I lose the full value in even one of those hours?

But hours with You are never wasted. Your very presence demands significance. And I think you intend us to understand this, too. I have always though that life is more important than most people suspect.

You gave life, above all precious gifts, and expect me to LIVE it.

For those God foreknew, He also predestined, to be confirmed to the likeness of His Son, so that He might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those He predestined, He also called. Those He called, he also justified. Those He justified, He also glorified. --Romans 8:29-30

My life draws an unbroken line from Your glory through all of creation to my own glory, a superb gift of eternity directly from You. 

You make me, you choose me, you call me, you save me, you transform me. You give me Yourself.

This is LIFE. The same life I wake up to every morning. Each of the 25,000 hours gifts from You to be lived with and for You.

You knew this from the creation of the world and You flash Your presence in shining thunderbolts before a rising sun just to say 'Hello.' You want me to know that You are near and sharing Your best. This is the Life You have put in me, miraculous Life, unreproducable Life, resounding with a thunderous crash, echoing Your glory across the whole earth.

Why I'm Not Bothering to be Good Anymore...

Kindness. Goodness. Generosity. Patience. Compassion. I look for virtues like these in friends, and value them in family. They define nice people, people I want around me, and the kind of person I want to be. Most people do, I think. Hardly anyone wants to spend most of their time with someone crabby and mean. So I try to be nice and so does most everyone I know. Sometimes, though, I wonder why.

After all, what's the point? Life doesn't last all that long, and I have spent much of it either growing up or growing old. Out of the eighty years I will most likely live, only forty of them encompass my strength. Why not spend them doing exactly as I please? Of course, laws prevent me from doing some things. I can't physically hurt anyone and I have to pay my taxes, but no law says I have to understand or help or be pleasant in the WalMart checkout line. Because, frankly, sometimes I just don't want to. So why bother?

If life ends at death, and many say it does, then many virtues fade into irrelevancy. Honesty prevents the immediate ease that lies often allow. Patience causes me to lose precious moments of my all-too-fleeting life. Perseverance causes me to suffer longer than I might have to. Self-control delays satisfaction. Goodness often means I put someone else's needs ahead of my own. Kindness causes me to stuff down my own feelings. Generosity demands I give to someone else something I could use for myself.

Virtues, then, cause me to waste my life. If this life is all I get, why in the world would I want to do that? Just forget it. Give them up. Crassness, unkindness, selfishness, deceit mean nothing because I am on my own and everybody else is, too. If nothing I do lasts, then it doesn't matter whether I do good or evil. I will disappear like smoke anyway and leave no trace behind. I do not care what people think of me because none of it matters.

I do care, however, and so does most everybody else, but in the context of a temporal world, denying my own comfort or desires makes no sense because I do it for no reason. I have nothing to gain. But what if I did have something to gain, something so important that achieving it makes all the difference?

In His great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,...In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith--of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire--may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.--1Peter 1:3, 6-7

I do have something to gain, then. If You exist, God, if you died and rose, then virtues make sense and my suffering through them bring me hope for a life that never dies. You provide the only answer to the impossible contradiction of suffering to live a good life that dies with me. Anyone who believes it right to live a good life believes in You whether they admit it or not.

Creation's Prerequisite

Some days feel like Eden, thick and pulsing richly with life, dripping with dew, heady with flowers. Creation feels new on these days, and I feel like I could still walk side by side with You, experiencing what it means to be created in Your image. You even gave me my own dominion, a hierarchy of creation that mirrors Yours. My flesh bears evidence of Your Spirit. You made me a fleshly replica of what exists in the heavens, gave me rule over a hierarchy of beings existing side by side with another hierarchy, one of pure spirit, but both ruled absolutely by You.

I look like You, but I am not You. I am like You as my own reflection is like me. Image without essence, my flesh a powerless reflection of Your Spirit. All the parts are present, but they don't function independently. Even my own dominion exists only to reflect Your vast one. Did Adam and Eve, when they walked with you in Eden, recognize their resemblance to You? Is that when it all began to go wrong?

This may be why You created wisdom before anything else, the same wisdom of which fear of You is the beginning. Without fear of you, I will take my own kingship too seriously, raise myself too high. I look like You, and intellectually know that I am not You, but practically, when I survey the vast kingdom You have given me, and the strength and intellect, I forget who You are. That is when I sin.

Still, You gave me life and want me to live it and, on days like this, physical life seems a richer creation than spirit. I do not imagine that spirits smell or feel or taste. You made a day like this for tasting, but I need wisdom to put this life in its intended context. You did not make me human, the crown of creation, to deny life. The life You made in me is good; You said so. You did, however, make me to deny sin.

When I consider the heavens, the work of your hands, the moon and the stars that you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You made him a little lower than the angels and crowned him with glory and honor. You made him ruler over the works of your hands. You put everything under his feet.--Psalm 8:3-6

Does not wisdom call out? "The Lord brought me forth as the first of his works, before his deeds of old; I was appointed from eternity, from the beginning, before the world began."--Proverbs 8:1,22