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If It Were Not For Him

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If it were not for Jesus, I would fall apart. If it were not for Him, I could not go on. If it were not for His love, I would lose all meaning. If it were not for His hand that guides me, I would lose all hope.

This morning, just like every other morning lately, my alarm went off and my brain took off. 500 things to do, and very little time to do them in; the uncertainty of the future and all the thousands of ways that God has to come through for anything to happen stood like a looming mountain waiting to fall on my shoulders. More than ever before in my life, I know that if nothing else happens today – my time in the secret place needs to. There have been times in my life that I have struggled to pray or to want to be with God. Right now, it is the exact opposite. It’s an absolute desperation in my soul. Right now, if it weren’t for these moments…and every other moment in the day that I am aware of His presence with me…I would completely fall apart. Even still, I sometimes do fall apart; and yet He picks me up, puts the pieces back together and says, “It’s alright. Let’s keep going.”

He is so patient with me. Sometimes it takes a while to get some things through this thick skull of mine. Sometimes it takes a while for me to figure out how to trust Him. Sometimes I forget that He is everything I need. And yet, He doesn’t stand there wagging His finger at me. He simply continues to call me forward.

It’s hard to not feel like I let Him down every day. Try as I might, my best efforts don’t meet the high standards of the calling He has given me. I run as hard as I can toward Him, but I realize how short of the mark I fall. However, the exciting part of this way of living is that I consistently find that He is enough.

As I was stressing out the other day with the call, my friend Sheli said to me, “Loaves and fishes, baby.” That is so right. I find myself standing before a multitude of challenges. I can’t even possibly imagine how to meet them all. Then I realize that Jesus is standing right beside me with His hand reaching for what’s in mine – my meager five loaves of bread and two fish. Who knows how the story is going to end; but one thing is for certain: it’s going to end in a miracle.

I preached the other day about the parable of the talents. The story is about a master who goes on a journey and entrusts his servants with different amounts of money, each according to his ability. When he returned, two of the servants had multiplied the investment, but the third had hidden his talent in the ground and simply returned the original amount to his master. I sometimes wonder if I have a tendency to be that servant. The work it takes to grow what God has entrusted to me is tough; it’s risky; it’s a heavy responsibility. However, as I was preparing for this message, I couldn’t (and still can’t) get something a pastor said out of my head. He said, “The greatest mistake we can make is to think that our talent is much safer hidden in the ground than in the Master’s hand.” It’s then I realize the secret: this isn’t even mine to carry.

His hands; His sweet, gentle hands picked me up this morning, and I realized that I can rest in Him. His touch reminded me that in any situation I can do all things THROUGH HIM who gives me strength. All these things that seem impossible? He’s got this. This mountain that is threatening to fall on my shoulders? He’ll just throw that into the ocean. I hear Him whisper, “Just take my hand. We’ll do this together. Let’s keep going.”

So we will keep going, walking through another day of radical faith and impossibilities. Today I am just so thankful; thankful that His embrace is warm and strong; thankful that He tells me that I need not worry. If it were not for Jesus, I would fall apart. If it were not for Him, I could not go on. If it were not for His love, I would lose all meaning. If it were not for His hand that guides me, I would lose all hope. Solid truth. Solid foundation. Solid Rock.

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