Truth.

Friday, November 8, 2013


 
Want some truth?  Life is fleeting.
 
Some more truth?  This life will end.  We don't know if it's 60 years from now, 30 years from now, five years from now, or tomorrow.  Or tonight.  But it will end one of these days.  It's the universal truth all of us instinctively know, yet try to ignore. 
 
Life here on earth, well, it's temporary.
 
And yet faced with this undeniable truth we are still tempted to live self-focused lives.  Lives full (bursting at the seams) of things that will not matter. 
 
Things that won't matter in three years from now, let alone 3 million years from now when eternity is before us and behind us and all surrounding us.  
 
What kind of house we lived in, what car we drove, what clothes we wore, what hair we had, whether we kept up with the latest fad,  what color we painted the kitchen, what style of shelf we bought, who had the funkiest Pinterest board, who won America's Got Talent, who won which sports game or which cup or whatever they call it in Hockey- won't matter, won't matter, won't matter.
 
And yet, so often, we fill our days with these temporal, limited, earthly things.  Why do we do this?
 

Truth waits, knocking, whispering open the door... 

  


 
 
Open the door to the fullest life, child.  To the life bursting with things eternal.  A simple, yet unbelievably wild life of faith.  Real faith - the kind where we walk on the edge for a God who says He'll catch us if we fall.  I don't know the full extent of that life yet, but I'm pushing hard into it, friends.  
 
I want to run crazy toward a God who is all-powerful, all-mighty, Alpha-Omega.  The Creator, Yahweh.  Friend.  Father.  He is the Everlasting, yet He calls me child.  It's wild alright, mind-boggling.
 
Even more mind boggling - faced with this truth that Christ Himself wants me - I still choose the trite.  I mean, the God of the Universe beckons me to come, sit with Him, and follow Him to the ends of the earth, and yet, I shrug.  Don't we all? 
 
We choose to Tweet instead of falling at the feet of our eternal Savior.  We choose to go shopping instead of seeking the truth of why we hoard treasures.  We choose to stress over the trivial instead of offering all things to Him in endless prayer.
 
Forgive me, Lord.  Because if I call myself a disciple of Christ, I have to believe that Christ is to live and all else is filler.
 
His creation beckons us to taste and see -
 

He is God and He is good.  And He is enough.






And He is Truth.

And the Truth is there for easy grasping.  Die to self, truly live.  Right there, plain as day.  Simple, but never easy.  But always the choice leading to the depth of joy and peace like a blanket of gold.

Reach down this weekend.  Way down deep.  Open up His word and seek the Truth waiting to be found.  Hold tight to the eternal and let the earthly pile up in the corner.  Swoop babies up in bundles of kisses, walk in endless leaves, love a lonely soul.  Repair that broken bond.

Crouch low and find Him there - the God of Truth.  He's there - in the humble, the small, the mind-boggling beautiful.









  
Written for Five Minute Friday with the prompt, "Truth".

2 comments:

  1. Oh Cassandra, this rings deep. I've been thinking over this this week as I have been in my quiet times in the mornings, feeling the days race by, and wonder when I will ever get to that huge mound of blog posts I "need" to write or read. No, I need to do just what I've been doing. In his word. But my flesh is so weak and still gives in to the call of the world, the pull of the selfish, the lies that I need to do this, that or the other to keep up. But really, I just want to sit, read, soak in His goodness.

    May he give us both more strength to "run crazy toward him" and fight off the drawing this world has on us. Love you and thankful for your words of TRUTH in LOVE!

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  2. He is God, He is good and He is enough...so thankful for those words tonight. Thank you for taking time to write this post in the midst of your weekend. Such a convicting blessing to me.
    Joyfully,
    Pamela

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