“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. (Isaiah 55:1 NIV)
It’s a free lunch. But haven’t you heard that there’s no such thing as a free lunch? It’s true to some extent. Someone has to pay. And someone has paid for this, at the cross the price was paid completely with blood, pain, beatings and bruising so that we could come, and come without cost to eat and drink of life.
The only requirement is that you are thirsty. There are many things in the world around us that satisfy our hearts for a moment, but never delivers lasting satisfaction, never really quench our thirst. Somehow we have to get through the deceitfullness of the worlds offerings and come to the free lunch that will truly satisfy. What a spread is laid before us, food that will satisfy, drink that quenches the thirst. Paid for in full.
Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” (John 7:38 ESV)
I was recently reading this passage and thinking around what it meant to have rivers of living water flowing out of your heart and the thought came to me that it is from the overflow of the heart that the mouth speaks. I have often wondered what the rivers flowing out of the heart looks like and is there some tangible expression of it. I know we can be so full of the Spirit that people near us are effected by his presence, I know we pray for people to be touched by the Spirit, and both of these cover part of what it means. But, I would like it to be more tangible, I would like to consciously know the river coming out of me. Maybe the seasonal hiddenness of the river is to keep me walking by faith, knowing that though I may not perceive the river, it is there because I believe. Maybe it is because of my fellowship with him that from my heart there is an overflow of his life, an overflow of truth, … Read More »
I come before the cross in my imagination. I bring my bags, my files of accusations, my memories of wrongs and I leave them their, at the foot of the cross. For though this wooden cross beam is empty, there is power still here. For this is the place of sacrifice, of death, but also life. For it is only in dieing that you truly live.
As I leave my bags the whispers come. You haven’t fully let go. You still remember what happened, you need justice, what they did was wrong. The scenario builds in my head as the voice become stronger, but I reason that, one who was completely innocent died for me, unjustly without a fair trial. Who am I to require such things? If I can just fix my eyes on him, if I can remember the truth, that he is the resurrection and the life and that believing in him is life, even though I die, somehow the voices fade into a mere breeze that floats away.
Lighter is my load when I let go. Lighter is my path when he is the guide.