EVERY MOMENT IS SACRED

Photo credit: Ralph Felzer

EVERY MOMENT IS SACRED

Our current Sunday series on Ecclesiastes is teaching us that life experienced "under the sun" without God is nothing more than smoke, vapor, emptiness–hevel.  Taking any part of life on its own terms, whether goodness, beauty, hardship, loss, pain, or grief, is to entirely miss the presence and activity of our good and beautiful God.  Our heavenly Father–through Jesus and by the gift of the Holy Spirit–comforts, strengthens, affirms, heals, redeems, and soothes every wound, every sorrow, every grief.  Every one.  But the key is keeping God at the center of every single thing life throws our way, no matter how painful or perplexing … or even beautiful.

In every moment, however delightful or dark, the secret to finding solid meaning and comfort instead of empty handfuls of vanishing vapor is the presence of God.  God is everywhere all the time.  If we don't see Him or hear Him or sense Him, the barrier is more likely in us than in Him.

Ecclesiastes is also teaching us is that the secret to keeping God at the center of our life is worship.  And worship assumes a couple things.  The first is faith, since worship is ultimately about looking up and out from created selves to a transcendent, eternal God.  And on top of that, "without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him (Heb. 11:6 NIV).

Which leads us to the second aspect of worship: gratitude.  All of us have received grace upon grace.  As the Apostle Paul says, "What do you have that you did not receive?  And if you received it, why do you boast as if it were not a gift?" (1 Cor. 4:7, emphasis mine).  Life itself is a gift–it wasn't your idea or mine to just wish ourselves into existence or to form ourselves in our mothers' wombs.  And so we give thanks, and our gratitude both keeps us humble and helps us remember the greatness of God.  

In the end, though, both faith and gratitude hinge on belief.  No one worships a God they don't believe in.  No one gives thanks to a God they don't believe exists.  In fact, I would say that the highest form of obedience we can perform is not any form of ministry or service, it's not giving, it's not even going into the mission field.  Don't get me wrong, these are all wonderful and glorious, and they ought to be more a part of our lives than they are, but they are all secondary to: belief.

In John 6, after Jesus feeds the five thousand, the crowd tracks Him down and asks, "What are the works God requires of us?"  And Jesus' response is: "The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent" (John 6:29, NIV).  Did you catch that?!  The "work" God requires of us is believing in Jesus–no more ... but no less.  Of course, believing in Him will lead us to acts of devotion and service and faithfulness, but far more important than any of these is the belief that underlies and inspires them!

I might also say here that this is precisely the kind of belief we see in Mary when the angel Gabriel announces to her that she will become pregnant by the Holy Spirit and give birth to the Son of God.  What is her response?  "Be it done to me according to your word" (Luke 1:38).  

Belief requires agreement, consent, allowing … abiding.  "Be it done to me according to your word" should be our motto for living every day.

To believe in each moment, and then to do what each moment requires–whether picking up a straw or a piece of litter or picking the kids up from school or preparing a meal or closing an account or finishing a job for a client–is our highest form of obedience.  Obedience is never "out there" somewhere in the future, it is not resolving to do later today or tomorrow or next year what may be required of us then.  Obedience knows no other moment but this one, right now.

Jean Pierre de Caussade wrote a book called The Sacrament of the Present Moment.  The title itself says so much more than I have in this little article about true obedience.  It says that this very moment is sacred, holy.  This moment transcends all other moments lingering from our past or hovering over our future because we have no access to any of our past moments or any of our future moments.  The only moment we have any access to at all is this present one.

A simple story from Genesis 28 will show you what I'm talking about.  Jacob has just dreamt of angels ascending and descending a ladder stretching from heaven to earth, and God tells him: "Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you."   When he wakes he says, "Surely the Lord is in this place–and I did not know it! … How awesome is this place!  This is none other than the house of God and the gate of heaven" (Gen 28:15-17).

Isn't that amazing?  Doesn't it make you wonder just how often we miss God and the nearness of His kingdom?  How often has He walked right past us and we failed to see Him?  How often has He spoken and we failed to hear His still small voice?  

I wonder if one way we can train ourselves to really see God's activity around us is to practice slowing down long enough to step out of our busyness and whatever else we might be doing for just a couple minutes each day.  We've been encouraging this in one another often lately by stopping for just two whole minutes a day.  No agenda at all.  We're not looking for answers to big personal problems or deep theological questions in this time, we're just stopping and offering ourselves to God.  "Into Your hands, Lord."  "Open my eyes, Lord."  "Be it done to me according to Your word, Lord."

What if we took just two simple minutes at the beginning of our day to simply be open like this to God?  To be grateful that we exist, and breathe?

I'm reminded of a message I gave a few weeks ago when I asked Lucas Wrobel to come up front and try to give me a handful of smoke.  And then I had him try to hand me a rock that was far too heavy and substantial for him to lift.  Remember the point?  It seems to us that the things of God and His kingdom are like smoke–hard to grasp and difficult to understand.  And it also often seems that the stuff of this life "under the sun" is so real and solid.  In actuality of course, it's just the opposite, the things of this world are all passing away (ourselves included), but the things of God are solid and eternal.  We fall for this almost every time, but I think one way of "breaking the spell" and of learning to see and know the kingdom of God in us and around us is to simply practice our two minutes.  

Let us remember to take Paul's advice and "Set our minds on the things that are above, not on the things that are on earth, for we have died, and our life is hidden with Christ in God" (Col. 3:2-3, paraphrased).

Be encouraged, friend, for God, the Maker of Heaven and Earth, who spoke all worlds into being, is both with you and for you.