There is no greater ambition than to become.
To become whole and really alive. To become one with the body.
To become fully active in our identity.
To be truly with Him.
There remains among us a persistent hurdle that I so long for us to leave behind. I long that we would reject any obsession of our own process. This tendency to study with such zeal our own features is akin to staring into a mirror. It is one angle of an extraordinary creation, but to fully appreciate the depth and power of what lives within us, there are more dimensions to experience.
I wonder if fear still holds sway among us, cleverly disguised in an illusion of sonship that is pretty but powerless?
Even though we have been lovingly and repeatedly reminded that we are worthy, enough, able, beautiful, powerful, free–it remains a seed, a theory–until we step out to experience it. Until we flex the true muscles of beloved sons, we have no concept of what could be accomplished if we only dared to move.
When we become distracted and consumed by the swirling vortex of our internal dialogue, our gaze slips from His example. We forget that there was nothing that was outside Jesus’ power and resources to accomplish. We never ever see Jesus saying He was too tired, too poor, unqualified, too weak, or not enough. We never heard Him say that we asked for too much. We forget that the same power that raised Jesus from death itself is also present in us.
Jesus, thank you for showing us that it could be done.
The example of Jesus as son is the foundation of our becoming, yet it is the highest possible standard we could aspire to. In reading this (and believe me, in writing it too!), are we not already intensely aware of our shortcomings? Afraid of the standard? Tempted to prefer a lesser reality of ourselves? To rise to His standard seems impossible.
And yet, in me (and maybe in you?), it calls to me. The power of our Father stirs in ours depths. Our very DNA knows who we are.
Paul was in this spot too I think. Why else would he so clearly reminded us that our weakness calls forth our Father’s power? Actually, think about that: this suggests that in many, many places, Jesus moved without hesitation despite an intense awareness of His weakness. And in His willingness, such glory and power of the Father is so brilliantly and consistently displayed, even today. I do nothing of my own initiative….what I see my Father do, that I do…
And we see it increasing. We long to participate. We long to play our part.
And yet, how to begin? We know for sure that we will fail often, and so in moments when we might recognize an opportunity to step out, we sometimes return instead to theory. Essentially, we hide, thinking that more internal processing will result in a feeling of readiness. This is a pause button we have lingered over far too long: that as long as we stay in the classroom, failure is avoidable.
As long as we remain introspectively obsessed with our features, we rob the earth of the true manifestation of His heart that we were called to make plain. This is the truth we long to negotiate: that failure is an unavoidable piece of becoming.
There is nothing wrong with ongoing “training” from our precious Jesus. In fact, He is the living food we are made to live from. Endless, heart-to-heart conversation with Him. This continued dialogue becomes so vital that we can never again fall to forget that He is real. Alive. He is the person who transfers our fascination from our theory to His living revelation. This intimate place of rest invites us frequently to come into His perspective.
We do a dreadful thing to devalue His vision of us. Who we are is not the question we were made to ask–it is the position we are made to live from. While it is necessary in our becoming–and in our healing–it should eventually become like the invisible foundation of a house, upon which a new question causes fruit to burst forth: Father, what do we see now? What are You doing? And then, upon Him in Us in Him–true identity–a breathing structure rises upon an unshakable root, bringing provision, hope, healing and shelter to every heart. Home is the fruit of identity.
If you find yourself saying no more than yes. If you find yourself recycling the same wounds, the same lessons, the same struggles, over and over. If your search for the conviction of your identity seems to constantly sit just outside your reach: Beloved, it is time to put down your fear of failure. It is time to stand up and walk and move and try and fail and trust. It is time to take the theories of your heart classroom out into the light. It is time to bank on His grace, drawing on His divine enablement.
Count on a new kind of hard. Count on pain you haven’t encountered. Count on coming face-to-face with your worst fears.
But these are pale in comparison to the way in which your heart will pound inside of you at the new opportunities you will see. The sudden, strong way in which you feel able to actually do some of the things you so hoped you might. The way His eyes look at you. The way you feel His heart burst in pride over you. You are no longer a theory, an idea that He had. In walking, you make His dream of you come alive.