Tag Archives: salvation

All the Feels

As a pensive observer and possessor of an empathetic heart, I frequently feel all the feels.

An acquaintance’s daughter died of cancer. Felt the feels.
A friend’s nephew died in a drowning accident. Felt the feels.
I watched my niece’s joy-filled reaction as she devoured ice cream. Felt the feels.
I had one of a treasured many heart-to-heart conversations with a cherished friend who bared her faith and fear. Felt the feels.

I will tell you — and those closest to me will confirm — that I often walk around as if I have the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Why would that be? I walk closely with the Savior of my soul. I have a fire-tested, unceasing faith in God. I believe in miracles and have seen many transpire. I have a loving family. I have amazingly supportive and hilarious friends. I have a fabulous job that I love. I own my home. I drive a reliable vehicle. I have money. I have my health.

I have access to joy unspeakable and yet I’m morose.

Just yesterday, I spent a good bit of time trying to crack this conundrum. As a result, I’ve a revelation.

I’m an intercessor.

You may wonder what that is. Well, it’s a person who intervenes on behalf of others, especially by prayer.

Knowing I’m an intercessor is not a new reality. I’ve known it for years. At times, I intercede in prayer as much as I should. At times, I don’t. When I say I’ll pray for you, I really will. And sometimes I’ll even make you stop what you’re doing, ask you sit with me, ask you to let me hold your hand, and ask you to let me pray for you then and there.

Most of the time, I’m not all that bothered by the fact that I don’t exercise my prayer muscle as I should. I know I need to pray more than I do. And I just don’t. I feel bad for awhile and then go along with life. However, lately, the atrophy of that powerful tool has been eating at me.

I’m quite convinced that I will not be able to proceed through these dark days for the joy set before me if I do not remedy this atrophy. The weight of observing the world crashing around me will crush me. The sadness of watching those I know and those I love endure pain will consume me. I can mourn with those who mourn to the nth degree, but I must do more than that.

It’s time for me to fight. It’s time for me to take back the ground that has been casually captured over time. It’s time to take action against the apathetic and make strides against the struggle.

I have an identity in Christ and part of that identity is to intercede for others (and myself, of course). I must acknowledge and contend with all the feels and take those feelings and turn them into prayers of faith, thanksgiving, warfare and breakthrough.

I was given a heightened sense and observation for a reason. And that reason is to pray. The old adage remains true: Prayer changes things. And if I’m exceedingly frustrated with life as we know it (and I am) then I can be the change I wish to see in the world one word, one prayer, one intercession, one choice to believe, one more ask-seek-knock at a time.

I have come that they may have life and have it redundantly

Woven throughout the memories in my mind, I recall teachers and preachers who’ve told me that Jesus came and said, “I have come that they may have life and have it abundantly.” — John 10:10

Jesus came to give life to the dead and set free those who were captive to sin. He liberated man and frustrated Satan’s plan.

Eternal life through Jesus is a colossal thing. But it is so minimalized, marginalized and mundane-ized with the lifestyles we live now.

For many of us, we do the same thing every week at the same times every day. Here’s a bit of my schedule, to orchestrate the point:

Monday: Get up at 5:20 to leave for work by 6 a.m. Work from 7-3:30. Come home and clean the apartment and cook meals for the week. Take the dog out. Play with the dog. Go to bed.

Tuesday: Get up at 5:20 to leave for work by 6 a.m. Work from 7-3:30. Drive to Franklin. Eat. Meet with my mentor at 5:45. Arrive home around 8:30. Take the dog out. Play with the dog. Go to bed.

Wednesday: Get up at 5:20 to leave for work by 6 a.m. Work from 7-3:30. Come home and let the dog out. Leave for Life Group at 6, to make it there by 6:30. Stay at life group until 8:45. Come home. Take the dog out. Play with the dog. Go to bed.

Thursday: Get up at 5:20 to leave for work by 6 a.m. Work from 7-3:30. Drive to Franklin. Eat. Sing in choir from 6:30-8. Drive back home and arrive around 9. Take the dog out. Play with the dog. Go to bed.

Friday: Get up at 5:20 to leave for work by 6 a.m. Work from 7-3:30. Drive back home. Take the dog out. Play with the dog. Go to bed.

I do that every week. It’s crazy redundant. I bet you probably got a bit bored reading it, right? I got bored writing it. But, I had to do it to illustrate my point.

Jesus didn’t liberate me from sin and eternal torment in hell so that I’d do the same, mundane thing every day. He didn’t deliver me from a life of deception so that I’d live a life of drabness. He gave me life so that I’d live it in abundant obedience to Him.

I confess that I sometimes get bored with my weekly schedule. However, A New Way, A New Day is my church’s prophetic word for the year. I’ve been learning how to live and proceed in A New Day, everyday. God makes each day unique. Each day is the day of salvation. Each day is the day of the Messiah. The day that Jesus conquered death and closed the gap between God and man was the first New Day. Jesus did things that’d never been done before.

As the Bible instructs, I’m to be an imitator of Christ. So that means that I need to live each day as a new day and not a continuation of a series of endless, busy days.

My challenge and commission for myself is to live abundantly, not redundantly.

I challenge and commission you to do the same.