"My sons, do not be negligent now,
for the LORD has chosen you to stand
before him and serve him,
to minister before him and to burn incense."
2 Chronicles 29:11
The Levites had forsaken their temple duties. As a result, there was nowhere for the people to offer sacrifices and find God's forgiveness. In response, King Hezekiah exhorted them to return to their calling.
I, too, have forsaken my purpose in many ways. How can I refresh this calling on my life? After all, I am chosen for more than this.
Presence. He gave up everything to deliver it. This sacrifice ended with the ultimate giving of Himself. As if it weren't enough to humble himself to the point of entering into His own creation as a lowly man, He went so far as to offer Himself as the final, perfect sacrifice. In so doing, the veil that existed between a holy God and the people He loves was permanently torn, offering an opportunity for all to enter into His presence.
Since Jesus went through so much so that I can boldly approach the throne of grace, why do I so often choose to stand alone in life (Hebrews 4:14-16)? My heart hurts when I am tossed aside as if I don't matter, treated like dirt or trampled on. Instead of casting all my burdens upon Him, I attempt to carry them myself (1 Peter 5:6-7).
Sometimes I feel so unworthy, noticing all the ways I fall short and thinking that defines me. As a result, I tend to avoid the God who treasures the bond we share, turning away from His piercing eyes. When I do so, I am forgetting how the blood of Jesus transforms my identity into a forgiven child who is always welcomed by my heavenly Father, no matter how I feel (Isaiah 1:18,1 John 3:1, John 1:12).
Other times I buy into the idea that God helps me only if I make a sincere effort to solve my own problems, work toward my own deliverance, or attempt to provide for myself (Psalm 46:1). Unfortunately, I end up minimizing the sacrifice Jesus made in order to deliver me into His kingdom where I have a Father who has a plan for my life, is powerful enough to save me from any danger, and is faithful to give me all that I need (Jeremiah 29:11,Psalm 46:1,Matthew 6:31-33).
When I'm negligent in my calling as a precious child of God, I miss out on all the benefits of dwelling in His presence.
Minister. He came not to condemn, but to save the world (John 3:17). He was drawn to the weak, the overlooked, the forgotten (John 5:1-9, Luke 8:43-48). His love drove Him to reach out to those society shunned (Luke 19:1-10, Matthew 8:1-4).
As one who is saved from certain death and ushered into an eternal kingdom by the blood of Jesus, I am called to do the same as my namesake (John 14:12-14). Through Jesus, I see those the world walks on by. Instead of joining in, I stop and take notice, showing love to the homeless man digging through the garbage, or the child abandoned by his parents, or the elderly wasting away in a forgotten corner of the home. Because of Jesus in me, I am drawn to the hurting, going toward the pain and advancing when everyone else retreats.
When I am negligent in my calling to love, I rob the world of the compassion and charity of God it so desperately needs.
Offerings. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." I've heard this saying enough to take on the meaning behind it as the gospel truth. In fact, if I've lived in the world for any amount of time, I realize this is its mantra. Forgiveness is a rare commodity in such an environment.
While the world says to guard myself against others' behavior, Jesus taught the opposite. In His economy, extending mercy is more important than protecting my rights. Offering forgiveness surpasses the tendency to guard against being taken advantage of. Showing grace is better than sticking up for myself.
Sometimes, I am the conduit through which the forgiveness of God flows into the cold, hard world. If I fail to forgive as I have been forgiven, my neighbor may never taste such a rarity. If I don't let go of the way I've been hurt, my accuser may never experience the kindness of God which is so foreign to him. If I insist on standing up for myself, my opponent may never see what it's like to be accepted right where she is, in the middle of her sin.
When I am negligent in my calling to forgive, I fail to model the mercy and grace on which I depend.
In the same way that the Levites negligence effected the entire nation of Judah, my own disregard for my calling as a child of God through faith in Jesus Christ has a ripple effect on myself and those around me. When I fail to dwell in God's presence, minister to a hurting world, and provide offerings of God's mercy and grace, the consequences are far-reaching. I am called to more than just an existence. I am called to be Jesus to a world who needs Him.
As I begin this day it is my prayer that I can dwell in God's presence.
When do I attempt to do things in my own strength instead of letting God provide what I need?
How do I withhold the very grace and mercy upon which I depend?
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