I realized that if Jesus can do nothing without his Father, I can do even less. If Jesus needed time alone for his soul, solitude to hear God and follow God, I do even more. It dawned on me as I was sitting on that deck that spirituality is not part of my work, it is my work. Time with God is not a resource for my life, but is my life itself.
Our lives have the same purpose as Jesus’: to know the Father. To be with him. To walk with him. To learn what he is doing, and join him. To find his word and work and will together.
And then everything we do is the expression of our life with God. We still work hard; we’re still busy. The question is not “what” we do, but “why” we do it. I am to do my work with God, not for him. Out of my love for him, and his overwhelming love for me. Together.
I discovered not only that I have a soul—I am a soul.
“In view of all this, we are making a binding agreement, putting it in writing, and our leaders, our Levites and our priests are affixing their seals to it” (v. 38).
May I ask you this question: Have you misplaced your soul? Is Jesus just a fact of history for you, or a real living person in your life? How long has it been since he spoke to you in his word, his creation, his church, your heart? Do you have the symptoms of soullessness? Is your life always hurried? Noisy? Frustrated by a lack of purpose? Do you have “calendar fatigue”—whenever you’re in one place, you should be in two others?
How long has it been since you made real time for Jesus in your life? When’s the last time you “got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place” where you prayed? How long since you listened to God? How long since you fed your soul? How long since you realized that you are a soul?
Mike Yaconelli’s article started all this for me. Here’s how it closes:
What does all this mean?
I don’t know . . . and to be quite blunt, that is the wrong question. I only know that at certain times in all our lives, we make an adjustment in the course of our lives. This was one of those times for me. If you were to look at a map of my life, you would not be aware of any noticeable difference other than a very slight change in direction. I can only tell you that it feels very different now. There is an anticipation, an electricity about God’s presence in my life that I have never experienced before. I can only tell you that for the first time in my life I can hear Jesus whisper to me every day, “Michael, I love you. You are beloved.” And for some strange reason, that seems to be enough.