Thinness of Soul

            I will confess: I have a thin soul, an oh so very thin soul. Why “thin” you may ask? Thin because of the smallness of my desires; thin because the objects of my desires have so little value to the enlarging of my heart that my soul is malnourished and barely alive. I am thin as in a concentration camp, not because I have nothing to feed on, but because I have so much to choose from. I only take a bite and am taken away to the next choice by no particular reasoning besides the fact that I can. So my soul is thin. I only have crumbs nourishing me. Rarely do I find a meal. Once a week I have a hearty meal, and only once a month do I attend a feast—there, my soul and heart are enlarged. The unfortunate reality, though, is it only lasts a few moments, because I again turn to the plethora of crumbs that don’t so much nourish my soul, as soak up its ability to truly feed on anything.

            Here I find myself remembering back to the days before I had tasted real food and drunk my fill at the spring of life—Christ. I remember the nights that a mere spark, and a mere inhaling would deliver my mind from all stresses into a state where thinking was alien, and pleasure was king. With my thin soul I long for one of those evenings, an evening without burden, without care.

Then I remember that I have tasted of a greater life; I have drunk from the wellspring of all goodness; I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good. What my soul needs is a renewal of appetite, an enlarging of heart; for the Lord is a supreme and infinite satisfaction that no earth-bound appetite can even try to taste. I need the Spirit to grant me a thirst for the divine, a hunger for righteousness. That is the key, I need Him to “need Him”. This is the paradox of finding satisfaction in Christ. We must ask him to grant us a thirst for him. We must plead for an enlarging of heart that we may truly take in with faith and trust the supremely large promises that He has made. And Christ is faithful; He will grant us the desire. He will give drink to the thirsty and food to the hungry.

Ho! Every one who thirsts, come to the waters;

And you who have no money come, buy and eat.

Come, by wine and milk

Without money and without cost.

-Isaiah 55:1

Soli Deo Gloria

The Beginning Singer

Me, a writer? And for a blog? That’s a joke. Who is as foolish and unworthy as I to guide minds—forming minds, weary minds, apathetic-toward-God minds, intelligent minds, mature and disciplined minds—those minds with words. I don’t have much talent, nor motivation to write. I am inconsistent, yet ready to commit, or at least say, “I commit,” but rarely am I able to follow through. So why should anyone read the words of such a fickle person as me? There’s really no reason I can think of, that is, in myself or of myself. But there is something, someone rather, outside myself that is worthy of my writing attempts, and of your deep consideration. That someone is God—the God of the Bible, the Creator, the First and the Last, the Holy One of Israel who sent His Son to reveal himself to the whole world no longer as Judge only, but also as Savior, Redeemer, and Advocate for mankind.

There is something in His great infinity and providence that is able to use such a fool as me. For in my sinful desperation, I couldn’t even call out to him. I was dead, yet he gave a quickening jolt to my dead soul, and soothed my decaying vocal chords with the sweet honey of the Word. And so I called out for mercy. I cried for grace. Then God in His eternal majesty and sovereign, unshakable grace, brought me to the cross of His Son, Jesus Christ. There, he didn’t say, “Look! You are worth the death of my Son. Rejoice! I paid the highest price just for YOU!” No, He said, “What you deserve is the wrath I poured on him. I have done this, so that you may behold his worth and surpassing greatness and through him be reconciled to me.” Beholding this sight was terrifying, yet freeing at the same time. For I knew that “I had been crucified with Christ.” I knew that life was granted to me as a gift. O how precious is salvation!

            Yet I return to my initial question. Me? Writing? I am still fickle! Even being saved I am that way. Ah, but there’s the catch, for again the truth comes out. The truth that I am nothing, and He is everything. It is through Him that I can live and obtain steadfastness of mind, spirit and might. For the substance belongs to Christ! He is what fills all in all. So my purpose in writing is not to begin as refined gold, but to trust in Him to refine me as I try. I’m the beginning singer; He—the conductor. And although my voice fluctuates as I try to hit each note and though the oscillations sound terrifying, with His guiding hand, I will start to harmonize with the glorious melodies of His Kingdom. Perhaps I’ll resonate with a fellow soul along the way, but all is in His hands. I am content with where I am by his grace.

Soli Deo Gloria