How to Survive Servitude
How do we live, do we gather in the stories of the motherless, and tuck them deep like rose thorn in the foot of our souls? How do we carry on in the juice of life, in our celebratory culture, and still know of poverty’s pain with our own twists of understanding?
How do we live in the knowledge of global pain without succumbing to the paralysis of depression?
We cannot turn our hearts to the poor, the fatherless, or the widow without being armed with JOY. What would there be to offer then? In the courts of worship, in the inner courts, is a burning fire, and with the fire, the face bowed low, is a smile.
I can’t see God, but this week I worshiped Him anyway, in truth and in Spirit, and in that place, JOY came over my eyes like a mud-cake wiped clean.
In our service, in all the things that we call sacrifice so that others might live, if our one true desire is not Communion with a Holy God, then we will not make it. We will curl in the rubble and come dry of faith. It’s going to be one way or another. We are not made to save the world.
We are made for Communion. And only out of that, in the joyful courts of worship, will the rubble of life not consume.