Revelation 3:17-19

"Because you say, 'I am rich, have become wealthy, and have need of nothing' - and do not know that you are wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked - I counsel you to buy from Me gold refined in the fire, that you may be rich; and white garments, that you may be clothed, that the shame of your nakedness may not be revealed; anoint your eyes with eye salve, that you may see. As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten."

These words from my Lord came crashing down upon me this morning like a ton of bricks (to quote an often overused phrase). To be theologically correct (which sort of makes me sick just writing this - I get so tired of these qualifications), I know and can appreciate who He was/is speaking to here, but simply must expand the territory to include me, one who is completely secure in Jesus. The fact of the matter is that I'm rich with wealth, I'm clothed with coverings that translucently attempt to hide my sin, and I'm visually "gifted" with eyes that freely wander here and there to places they ought not. Living in this country has afforded me luxury I now wish I never tasted; it's a very dangerous, treacherous place to be.

My whole life I've felt distracted, encumbered and weighed down by the perishable. It's been a yoke around my neck even when I haven't possessed much at all, especially in my earlier years of life. I've always wanted, and wanted more. I've always desired the best, the best of everything. And you know what? It's been given to me, all of it. It came to me like the male Black Widow naively steering toward the beauty of what his eyes and heart wanted, only to be swallowed by her bite. I now feel like Solomon; what has it produced? It's all chasing after the wind. If there's one thing I'm grateful for, it's that I can at least see this for what it's worth. Many go through their entire lives never gaining true sight, 20/20 vision.

But now I see, so what shall I do? John quotes the Lord and says that I should buy gold refined in fire, that I should buy white garments that the shame of my nakedness might not be revealed, and that I should anoint my eyes with eye salve that I might see. And where do these come from and what do they look like? They come from love by a source much greater than me, and they produce a love of sources much beyond me. It's not what I see, it's not what I wear, it's not what I own, but rather what I don't see (for, "We walk by faith, not by sight."- II Corinthians 5:7), what I don't wear (shameful coverings, but rather sheer, white veneers that expose a new heart), and what I don't own (anything, for it all comes from Him, and everything, for what I have is imperishable). I bask in those today, asking the Lord to satisfy my longings to own, be clothed and see with those that only He can satisfy.

Psalm 33:16-17

"No king is saved by the multitude of an army;

A mighty man is not delivered by great strength.

A horse is a vain hope for safety;

Neither shall it deliver any by its great strength."

Last night someone smashed in the passenger side front window of my car, broke in and stole several items of personal possession. I never saw any broken glass as I walked up to the car, but immediately noticed some papers on the floorboards were in a different place than where I left them the morning earlier but didn't give too much thought to it. Upon sitting in the driver's seat, I felt a breeze of below freezing air and noticed the window was open. I couldn't believe I would have done such a thing. It was open all-right; it was obliterated into thousands of tiny little pieces scattered across the seat and floor. Then my mind began to race. And it raced, and it raced, and it raced all over the place. After calling Victoria and asking her to call the police, I stood there and examined the damage. My brand new GPS, given to me as a birthday gift from my parents, was taken from my glove compartment (together with some CD's and all my automobile owner's manuals/registrations/insurance certificates), my brand new drum bag with sticks and mallets, and my old leather backpack that I loved and cherished (in a silly way - it's the inexpensive and worn things that seem most valuable and sentimental). Puzzlingly, they deliberately took one of the favorite things I possess out of that backpack and left it behind, my Bible that I've had since high-school with a personally made/engraved leather cover.

When I went to bed that night and sat up to chat with Victoria before falling asleep, she asked what troubled me most about the incident. I replied, "That I'm troubled at all is what troubles me most." Moments before crawling into my horizontal position, I had to turn to the one thing I knew would steer my thoughts and heart in the right direction, the Word of God. So I flipped to Matthew 6 and got another gut punch from Jesus right where I needed it most. "Do not lay up for yourselves treasure upon earth... where thieves break in and steal." (Matthew 6:19) If the things that were stolen were not treasures in my heart, then I wouldn't have been burdened by the incident. I've put my trust in horses and chariots more than I think or thought. Not for my salvation, mind you, but for my joy. I thought my car was a safe haven, meaning it was impenetrable, with an alarm system and all. Not so, obviously. Nothing on earth is impenetrable, nothing.

I've lost my joy lately. This incident didn't prompt it, it just served to put a spotlight on it. I recently heard a sermon that emphasized the fact that I'm on my way to a wedding feast. I don't feel like. Seems like I'm more on my way to a funeral, walking in step with to a dirge. I wish now I never possessed the things I do. They've distracted me my entire life. The good has stolen what's best.

John 11:35-36

"Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, 'See how He loved him?'"

So right on the heels of declaring that the glory of God would be revealed through Lazarus' sickness and imminent death, Jesus, upon His arrival to the tomb where Lazarus lay, wept. Why would He weep if He knew He was going to raise Him again? I'm not certain Jesus shed tears over Lazarus, even though that's what the people thought, but rather over something else. What was that something else?

While I cannot know for certain, it could have been (as some commentators believe) over the ravages of sin and their consequences upon mankind. Perhaps He cried over the waywardness of Israel and their rejection of Him as the Christ. But I believe (based upon nothing but intuition and speculation) that Jesus was sorrowful because of the sorrow expressed by those who loved Lazarus. I believe He was moved with compassion, as He was so many times before, over the people and their broken hearts at the death of someone He also loved very dearly. This would not be uncharacteristic of Jesus, but rather quite aligned and attuned with who He was, and actually still is. Jesus, the suffering servant, a man acquainted with grief (cf. Isaiah 53:3) identifies. And He not only identifies, He empathizes, He feels what others feel. Where we are, there He is, and not only in presence, but in body, soul and spirit. He's a part of us to the point that in our joy He's joyful and in our sorrow He's sorrowful.

There are times in life when I just want to cry. Cry over the heartache, the anguish and the inequity of life. Unmanly? No. Christlike? Yes. Creation is corrupt, and it's just plain sad. There are times when I just need to step back, survey my surrounds, and cogitate on this world's despairing state. It's O. K. to ruminate there for awhile. Some might say, "You're taking this all too seriously, Thom; lighten up!" I will not. Let me stay here for awhile, and then I shall look up, pray and see God do His miraculous work in spite of it all.