Do you mean it?

"It's like a marriage."

My dear friend Debbie has come to our women's group. She smiles at our eager faces looking back at her and I can see the peace there. She is at rest.

"You know. Sometimes we feel so in love and it's so easy to feel connected. Other times it's nothing but hard work. But even when you turn your back on Him, He's still there."

And I think of marriage and love and working hard to keep that love strong day after day. My husband and I started out our marriage with a vow--I choose you, no matter what. And we have. But it hasn't been easy.

But it's no kind of marriage when you never see each other or barely speak. Love can grow cold quickly when thoughts are continually pulled away. And when we don't keep choosing, we can forget what we committed to in the first place.

We must choose.

We must choose Christ like we choose marriage. And choosing one thing always means rejecting something else. Sometimes a really good something else.

But He is the best. Isn't He?

Isn't that what we say? Nothing compares to You, Lord.

Do we mean it?

"Yeah, but how? How do we practically choose to be with a Jesus we cannot see? How do we know Him?"

The smile lights her whole face and I know what she's going to say. Because He tells us that from the very beginning He is the Word. And the Word became flesh and dwelt with us because He so longed to abide with us, and from the very beginning He has always given us words. He lavishes His words on us, and we are made to hear them and respond. This gift of language, a mystery of being made in His image.

I'm convinced that we have completely underestimated the force of His Word.

It is light. It is life. It is power. It is nourishment and joy and comfort and hope. It is instruction and encouragement and reprieve and rebuke. It is the breath of God poured into us, His song sung over us.

And if we would only choose it above all things, it would change everything.

I know this. I have seen it. I have watched the Word unfurl hearts like flowers in the sun. I have seen the power of promises claimed. I have felt the peace of His presence still my heart.

"I run to the Word," says Debbie. "Every day, all day. Some days I have to force myself. But when I am always in the Word, then His Word is in me."

And His word changes things.

But hearing words means being silent. Listening. And we are a noisy, clanging, banging, cacophony of a planet. What would happen if we stopped trying to be heard?

What would happen if we listened?


(Thanks to Debbie Dittrich for her friendship and wisdom!)

Day 5 of Abide: 31 Days of Resting in Him.

See my other posts here.