WHY DO you
think your heart struggles to have peace?
That’s the
question I ended last week’s blog post with, and I hope you had time to
meditate on and answer it.
What kind
of answer(s) did you come up with? Would you have more peace if you lived in a
better neighborhood, in a bigger house? Made more money? Had better health?
Different parents, or a different spouse? Maybe had a spouse? Got a better
education and a better job? More fame and attention?
We’re
always searching for the bigger, better, more perfect thing in life, aren’t we?
What we have right here and now is never enough. Deep down in our gut, most of
us are restless, never-fully-satisfied people. Oh, we might be satisfied for a
moment or short period of time. But when the luster and honeymoon wears off the
“new” then we’re thinking about and planning for the “next.”
For this
post I’m going to borrow some concepts I learned from Paul David Tripp at a
marriage conference my husband I recently attended. They were insightful,
eye-opening truths that can be applied to all aspects of life.
One of them
is that we need to be honest and admit that most of us don’t live in big
moments and probably never will. What we live in is the “utterly mundane”
moments of life. Day in and day out—work, play, school, family.
Living in
the mundane moments is probably a stumbling block for me since I used to live
in big moments. Really. As a competitive athlete, I did have newspaper articles
written about me. I got a lot of attention. I got asked for my autograph by
adoring little beginning athletes. I performed on stage and got ego-boosting
applause and standing ovations. When I return to my high school reunions, one
of the first questions I’m asked is whether or not I’m still participating in
my sport. And we’re talking 35 years later! That tells you just how much other
people identified me—and still do—with my sport.
I’m going
to make a confession here: I miss those big moments. When I broke my leg in
college, (during a big championship meet, no less), and my athletic career came
to a screeching halt, I didn’t know what to do with myself. It took a single
second in time for my bone to break and my life to fall apart. Literally. My
sport was me; it was my identity. For most of my life I had lived and breathed
it. I worshipped it.
And that
brings me to the second point. Your life, and any activity or relationship you
do and have is rooted in worship. As Tripp points out: “Worship is your
identity before it is your activity. Something is always in rulership of your
heart.”
And therein
lies the peace problem. When we get out our spiritual spades and plow deeply
into the soil of our hearts, we find some pretty toxic, moldy soil. Soil unable
to absorb the fertilizing, life-giving granules of peace because our worship is
skewed or misdirected.
So, what do
we do? How do we revive that soil?
In order to
have a heart designed to receive peace and thrive
on it, first we need to focus our worship the right direction. And then we can begin
the painful process of extracting the weeds.
And that’s
the thing I had to learn after my career-ending injury: my worship focus was
all wrong. It could never be sustained, and it never fully satisfied. It took
me years after the injury to finally figure it out and some painful spiritual
heart and soul surgery to learn. And it’s taking my lifetime to practice and
perfect. Unfortunately, due to lack of attention and neglect, I still allow a
lot of weeds to choke out my garden.
When we
re-direct our worship to the One it should be directed to, our life perspective
changes. Instead of being self-focused and self-concerned, I am God-focused and
God-concerned. I get to know Him better, and, in the process, get a clue about
what He wants me to do, His will for life. And the deeper I go, the more I
think about everything He’s done for me, for others. Everything He promises to
do in the future. His faithfulness; His unlimited blessings. And when all of
that reality rushes into my brain and heart, guess what happens?
I am
grateful. My heart vessel spills over with it.
And I am
prompted to engage in that other kind of peace found in Scripture.
The “thank
offering.” A voluntary “peace offering” God asked His children to give to Him.
Today when
we think of a peace offering, we think of something we give to someone else in
order to smooth over a relationship, placate someone, or make amends with a
gift. That concept is not what God meant by a peace offering.
There were
three reasons a peace offering might be given in Scripture. The first one is a voluntary offering to God in recognition
of His unsought for blessings, His goodness. It was an outward demonstration of
praise for a loving God who blesses even when we don’t ask for it.
The second
reason for giving a peace offering was to give it in conjunction with a vow you
made, to demonstrate that you were good and in agreement with the vow. A
showing that you had no resentment for the promise that you made. A
demonstration that your heart was at peace with the decision.
The third
reason was to show thankfulness for an unexpected blessing you received in time
of dire need. Perhaps for God’s deliverance.
None of
these reasons had anything to do with trying to pacify or appease a cranky,
vindictive God. They were based on a loving, reciprocating relationship.
Our hearts
struggle to have peace because we are not thankful people. (Indeed, many of us
are perpetually complaining people.) A right heart focused on the right object
of worship leads to thankfulness—a heart filled with peace.
And when
that heart vessel overflows, it tends to get everyone around it wet. Is your
overflowing heart washing others in bitterness, cynicism, and anger? Or does it
soak them in thankfulness?
Next week
we’ll look more at where this offering occurs in Scripture, and what it means
for us today. But for this week, I’d like to challenge you to make a list of
all the things you are thankful for. While we will never truly know this side
of heaven all God has done for us down here, there are obvious blessings we’ve
all received from Him. Bitterness and emotional pain might make it difficult to
dig down and break the soil open to extract them, but they are still there,
maybe hibernating under the soil, waiting to be exposed to the light of day.
Invigorated and remembered, and ready to bring peace to a struggling heart.
Until then, I’ll be praying for you in your list making. If
you have time, please leave some feedback to share what you added to your list!
Meet you back here next Monday when we’ll uncover
more ways to have peace!
Blessings,
Andrea
May you prosper in all things and be in health, just as your
soul prospers (3 John 2).
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