Vitamin Save

"For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved." John 3

I just finished reading Frank Perretti's book, The Oath. In it, Peretti compares sin to a dragon who "marks" the people he owns by creating a wound over their hearts that oozes black slime. This mark gives the dragon the right to consume them. 

The people, at first, notice these wounds. They fear their impending doom. But towards the end of each person's life, he or she sinply ceases to care. People begin living as if they have no wound. Sinning and hurting others with reckless abandon. Marching towards their own death in a sickening display of denial. 

This idea aptly illustrates the words of Jesus to Nicodemus in John 3. In this conversation, Jesus says that the world already stands condemned, and that Jesus came to do something much different than condemn humanity, again. He came to save.

See, just like the people in Perretti's story, every one of us has been marked with sin's wound. This gives us a fatal connection with our enemy, sometimes called the Dragon in the Bible. Eventually, he will consume us. We can pretend we're immune. We can live as we please. But truth will claim us in the end. 

When Jesus came to earth, He knew our soiled, sin-sickened state. Rather than sealing that existing condemnation in stone, He came to provide an escape. A substitute. Someone who could pay the penalty that our festering wounds would demand.

It is a beautiful picture, yea? A sinless Lamb, facing down a bloodthirsty dragon, armed with nothing but His own death-damning Love

This love runs so deep that even if I never admit I'm oozing sin's slime, Jesus still offers His gift - His substitutionary blood - to me all the same. My response makes no difference: His love -- and my condemnation, without accepting it -- will not change. 

So what will I choose to embrace? The dragon, his "freedom," his mark? It's already mine, actually. As a child of this world, I took my first breath with that slime-seeping wound, and without Christ,  I'll carry it til I die. No choice is a choice. I can deny it, but nothing can alter the truth. 

Only the Lamb and His ridiculous plan,  His chosen cross and His arms spread out wide, offers any hope for my condition. My state can be changed, but I must admit that I'm dying in order to take receive the Lamb's life. This means letting go of my pride, seeing my rights crucified, and embracing God's world-changing gift.

The dragon? The Cross? My way? Or the Lamb's? Jesus came to save me, if I will but accept Him. Can I admit that I need Him, and live?

Can you?

Vitamin Moment

The cat, a mild-mannered orange tabby,stretches luxuriantly on my queen-sized bed. She's picked the exact center, near two socks awaiting their owner. From here, she blinks, kneads one paw, and rolls over with obvious delight to expose her ample, tawny-furred belly.

Oh, Rosie.

I can't help but smile as I scoop her up, her body a friendly, limp weight in my arms, and head for the front door. Her dreamy demeanor belies an uncanny ability to locate and breach any unguarded entries to our home.

It was good while it lasted, I think as I deposit her, surprised, back outside. But I'm sure you'll be back again, soon. Still groggy from her secret snooze, Rosie stumbles as she lands on the front porch, then rights herself and glances back. But there's s not a hint of animosity in those expressive, green eyes. No matter the millions of times we repeat this routine, she seems incapable of holding a grudge.

Mentally, I tip my hat. That's the spirit, I think as I start the long Wednesday plow that eventually culminates in my bedtime. Savor the sweet things while you have them.

On a walk with a friend, later on, I catch myself following Rosie's feline lead. The lay of a field, freshly-plowed. A covey of cows bedded down the road. Trees in bloom. Tiny plants. Each observation garners more appreciation that I would normally feel, and by the end of our walk, my sludgy weekday spirit has risen to one of gratitude, one of joy.

"Moments have been on my mind," my walking partner mentions as we wind down our stroll. She's contemplating a potential move, dabbling in planting a garden, striving to live out a peace that flies in the face of a thousand unknowns. "This is the life that we have, here, right now. This is what we should enjoy."

I nod, she smiles, and we both laugh. Enjoying life's moments sounds easy ... until you try. But I sense, as we pick up the pace and near our walk's end, we're both willing work for it. The payoff may not look like Rosie's slow stretch on her stolen bed. But it'll be wonderful, all the same.

More peace? Perhaps. More joy. Without a doubt. And hopefully, with a little careful maneuvering, several catnaps to savor, as well.

Vitamin Bask

Walking into a south-facing room, I spot a small patch of sun in my home, splayed on the floor like a fat, sleeping cat. The vision sends an unexpected flutter all the way to my stomach, a flutter I can only compare with the jolt one feels upon sighting one's secret crush in a crowd.

Warmth! I adore you! Sweet light. Give me joy.

Drawn to this bewitching delight, I sink down in its checkered comfort with a sigh. At once, warmth washes over my extremities, flooding me with a sense of well-being I've lacked since the desolate days of winter began. I bask like a lizard, all duties forgotten in these first ecstatic moments of spring sun. I am a worshiper undone, thanking my King for this precious window of light.

And yet ... He grants me these windows every day. Love. Friendship. Food. Shelter. The smile of one of my kids. Without seeming to show special favors, He most certainly does.Those things that draw me to Him litter my path like wildflowers, and I pick them all with abandon, with pure joy. God, help me to bask, help me to worship, with each precious gift that You give.