Elisabeth Adams

My daddy tells me I’m cryptic sometimes.

(I’m pretty sure he’s right, but tell me how to change, ok?)

In fact, he loved last week’s post, but wished I would tell the story straight. So here it is, in a nutshell:

I used to wonder if the desire for marriage could be an idol. Then one day while I was sitting in a hard wooden chair, hugely privileged to hear stories of God’s kingdom work, some of my thoughts were pouty with the desire for romance. That’s when I knew: in that moment, those desires were an idol. But here’s the point! Idolatry doesn’t have to stick around. Just as fast as I turn to repentance, He cleanses — and I’m back on the track of His kingdom.

Better?

Ok.

Here’s what I’m thinking on today: An old poem by T. E. Browne called “Indwelling.”

If thou could’st empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf,
And say, “This is not dead,”
And fill thee with Himself instead.

But thou art all replete with very thou
And hast such shrewd activity,
That when He comes, He says, “This is enow
Unto itself – `twere better let it be,
It is so small and full, there is no room for me.”

Jesus said, “I don’t have my own agenda. I just do what I see my Father doing.” That’s joyful simplicity. Happy abdication. Glorious, glorious freedom from self-absorption.

Escaping the relentless demands of my own pride and desires to come under God’s tender care: what’s not to love about that?

The fifty-day countdown is up on Sunday; Pentecost is coming. What better time to be empty, and waiting, for Him?