A year ago today, or some day immediately before or after this one (I can't quite remember the date), I was submerged in a pool of water in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Immersion was the symbol of God's fullness and my wholeness, the sufficiency of Christ crucified and resurrected for me, a desperate sinner--a declaration of a sovereign God's work in me and of my faith response to it.
This morning my church family and I watched as seven spiritual siblings were in the same way ritually put to death and resurrected in a bath of (evidently fairly cold) water. It is a symbol well worth beholding regularly. Seeing the incredible vulnerability of the shivering dunked reminds us of how far we can wander from that reverence.
I had forgotten. I had been wandering. Last night the dams I'd built up to keep the Almighty at bay fell. They had to. It was inevitable. His grace burst through my weak palisades of sin and selfishness. I was overcome. I was overcome by power, by sovereignty, by a flood, by grace irresistible and true and good. My dry haven in the middle of the River of Life, my concocted valley of self, was inundated. I stood for a moment watching it all cave in and the mighty tempest loom above me. I thought to grab my belongings, like an earthquake drill.
But the Father beckoned me out, he grabbed me and plucked me from my flooding space. He took me in his arms. I was limp and weak and ashamed. But I was dry.
In this time of prayer, somewhere up against a tree in the middle of the frigid night, I felt the warmth and comfort and peace of God's Spirit renewing me, purifying, making way for the Lord. That flood was in my heart. That stronghold was there, constructed deep in my soul, a foothold for a rebel.
I soon saw--God revealed to me gently--that so much of the chaos and depression and darkness and sorrow I've been stuck in this season was a means of drawing me in, drawing me out, drawing me near to the Father. Numb and deaf and blind, but now I could see a precious part of the tapestry of his sovereign, eminently good will. The Lord my God loved me--loves me--so much that he has tugged at and pulled on and then torn down this pestilent stronghold, this preserve of sinful obstinacy. He traversed the distance I would not, just as he did in sending Christ to this world--that's what Advent and Christmas are all about!
Well, my Christmas was last night. The gift I opened was an irresistible grace. It was love packaged in a Savior, wrapped in sustaining sufficiency and overwhelming power, sacrifice and justice satisfied. Lord, you are God, you are Love eternal. I have peace, purpose, a promise sealed in the precious blood of Christ.
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