He is. You are. He, she, it is. So goes the conjugation for the present tense of the verb "to be" in English.
As believers, we're related to a God who time and again refers to Himself as the “I Am," whose name means the “self-existent one." And I think that I, in my incredible dullness, am comprehending in some measure what these titles mean for me.
“For in Him we
live, and move, and have our being.”
Until recently, I had no idea my Christianity was supposed
to be so real. A living
relationship with the "I Am" that breathes life into every project, delivers
strength for every waking moment, and permeates every aspect of life’s moments
with vitality.
I was the Christian who would have soul-thrilling devotions in the
morning, reading passages in depth, unearthing golden nuggets from the Bible, and then live as if those precious minutes had never existed.
For years, I had this incredible disconnect between the God
of my quiet time and the God of my daily moments. As a teen, I’d blow up when things didn’t go my way. As a college student, I’d become
frazzled when my schedule was interrupted. As a Christian school teacher, I loathed intrusions into my
perfectly plotted lesson plans. As
a wife, I inwardly rebelled at my husband’s requests when I was in the middle
of another project. And as a
church member, I fretted about others’ problems or well-acclaimed positions.
But none of this is Christ’s way. Every shred of worry is to be discarded as the waste it is
and cast in the heap of rubbish at His feet. Every bit of vainglory is to be left at the dunghill where
it belongs. Every tiny fragment of
self-pity is to be destroyed.
Internal strife and every other work of the flesh must be traded for the
beautiful, freeing life in Christ.
But since God is the God of the present tense, my journey is
continually ongoing. It never
ceases. I have never arrived. I
have moment-by-moment tradeoffs that must be made, thinking that must be
changed, and decisions that must be immediately embraced.
Someone today got a thing for which I had been hoping. I felt a twinge of jealousy. I heard, “Let nothing be done
through…vainglory,” and I yielded.
The tradeoff was beautiful, because the strength of Christ filled me
with joy. Yesterday I found myself
overly sensitive to my husband’s remarks.
I began to protest but inwardly heard, “Let all bitterness. . . be put away
from you.” I immediately confessed
my sin and began rejoicing.
The world is a beautiful place when Christ fills you with
His joy. But the cost is
yieldedness, surrender, obedience. This is not a high price when you get Him, the God of the
present tense, instead.
Christianity is not pithy remarks. It’s not a chock-full devotional book brimming with
truth. It’s a vitally
transformative relationship that changes you, so that you live, not on
a self-constructed spiritual elevation, but in constant fellowship with the God
of the Present Tense. People
around you just know you’re a happy person. They know you as flexible with whatever curve balls life throws your way. That’s because the Prince of Peace
reigns on the inside. He really is
your “I Am,” the God of your present tense.
Comments