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worship

When I say freedom…

by Jessica on August 15, 2010

in Sacred Chaos

When I say freedom, I don’t mean the freedom that comes from being well acquainted with someone….where formalities are unnecessary and even awkward. Nor do I mean the freedom to be who you are free of disapproval or conscious of what others might think.

When I say freedom, I mean freedom in its truest sense.

Being set free.

Broken chains.

No longer enslaved.

Not being subject to tyrannical rule.

This is the definition I hold to,

freedom:

Discovering one’s identity and purpose in Jesus and tearing down every stronghold that opposes walking in the fullness of that identity and purpose.

So when I say I miss the spirit of freedom in my home church, what I’m saying is I miss these things. I miss being surrounded by a group of people who are pursuing their own personal freedom. Who are saying no to sin and the enslavement Satan wrecks in our lives.

It’s not fanatical. No one does this all the time. No one has the greatest attitude every instance sin is confronted and rebuked. There’s an ebb and flow just like in any adventure.

I miss the environment that cultivated such a drive. I miss being encouraged to press on when I didn’t feel like fighting sin or going deeper. I miss seeing the bigger picture or having it painted for me when I couldn’t lift my head.

I miss this pursuit.

I was one of those people and I stopped. I stopped the pursuit and now I just causally confess sin issues that come up…sometimes. I don’t run after them, chase them down until they’re good and dead. There was once a time when I saw what sin stole from me and wanted to take back the ground. I wanted freedom. I desired and craved freedom. I wanted to be set free more and more. Unhindered by fear, rejection, self-hatred, lies from the enemy…I wanted freedom from that and I pursued it.

Now…most days I’m content. I’m content and complacent. Sin isn’t knocking on my door nor are the chains so tight I can hardly breathe, but they’re there. They may just be sitting to the side, but they’re still there.

Some days I may just be standing outside my jail cell, when I should be running toward the open air.

That’s what I miss.

I don’t miss the pursuit for the sake of the pursuit. I miss it because of what it did in me. It gave me a greater hunger for Jesus and the kingdom of God. I was more willing to take chances and be the woman God designed me to be, because I had seen how He worked in my life and the lives of others. I was fueled not for the feeling freedom gave me, but for the view it painted before me.

Fighting sin…fighting for freedom is more than just getting rid of evil and becoming more sanctified. Fighting for freedom is beholding the One who is Almighty, First and Last, Beautiful Redeemer, and Precious Lord.

It is beholding and becoming.

That is what I’m thirsty for.

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Thirsty

by Jessica on August 8, 2010

in worship

“Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.”

Isaiah 55:1

When you are thirsty,

drink and be drenched.


Leave

satisfied,

full,

and complete.

On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, ”If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ’Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’”

John 7:37-38

What satisfies your soul?

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Coming home.

by Jessica on August 6, 2010

in Real Life

I was only supposed to pick up a book from my pastor’s wife for a giveaway I’m planning later this month. What I didn’t expect was the emotions fueled by the faces.

It was the first night of a conference my home church puts on. As I made my way to the office my friend Shay and I were stopped a few times by familiar faces. Familiar stores. My old MOPS mentor who recently lost her husband and after years of faith prayer and witness he opened his heart to Jesus not long before he died. I missed that. I missed sharing their family’s grief and being there for them.

The longer I stayed at the church as people arrived and volunteers ran last minute errands, I kept telling Shay, “I’ve got to find so-and-so and say hi. Then we’ll leave.” She was supposed to take me home and then come back for the conference. Fifteen minutes before the conference started I called my husband and told him I wanted to stay.

And as we joined in worship I found myself quite emotional in my response. I didn’t know exactly why. I’d blink back tears that ultimately refused to stay down. Everywhere I looked there were faces and stories and family. I began to miss this place, these people more than I had let myself realize.

I miss the freedom of worship unhindered by a schedule. I miss hearing Bryan sing. I miss the random hugs and knowing glances. I miss the honest-to-goodness “How are you doing?” I miss the my junior high kids who’ve made their way to high school and even college. I miss the spirit of freedom that permeates this place. I miss the joy.

I was becoming more and more conscious of my tears as I tried to discreetly wipe them away. A few more songs pasted and I wondered, Why was I so concerned if people saw me cry?

These people know me. They know my faults and my strengths. They’ve shared life with me. Mourned with me, rejoiced with me. Called me out when I needed to be called out, held me when I needed to be held. Encouraged me, enriched me, spoke truth in my life. They’ve prayed over me, shed tears for me…why did I need to hide from them?

They’ve seen me. They know me. What are they going to hold against me? We’ve been broken together, desperate together, crossed the world together, been redeemed and restored together. What are a few tears but the truth?

I miss them. I miss this place. I miss this atmosphere.

The bad thing about being immersed in seminary culture is that sometimes the awe and sheer wonder of Jesus is lost amidst the doctrine and theology, the right answers and prayer requests. (None of which are bad, but sometimes the focus can become so narrow that the one thing is left on the blurred edge.) Instead of freedom to stand in awe and worship there’s the three scheduled songs and no more. Little time for the Holy Spirit to move…to lead. Amongst the future pastors, missionaries, and church leaders the passion is put on hold while the credits are earned.

And my soul thirsts.

Standing there amidst a hungry and broken people I cried. This is what I missed. This is what I have neglected. This is where I yearn to be…face to face with Jesus. Just standing in awe and wonder, lost in gratitude…overwhelmed.

This is home.

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