The Baker Who Loved Bread
"Once upon a time, there was a King who walked astride his world--here, there, and everywhere. He became poor in order to be like the people he loved, and he lived among the outcasts in order to feel there pain...And the Baker discovered that one could love the work of one's hands too much, and that one should always love one's King more. Love for the King is measured by one's love for his people. So the Baker fed the hungry and fed them well--lest the One he loved the most should starve." ~ David and Karen Mains, Tales of the Kingdom, "The Baker Who Loved Bread"
I lost my sight. Somewhere along the way, I've felt controlled, manipulated, betrayed, and like I have to earn love. I feel like a job well done is not enough, and that although I put in constant hours, it will never be enough, not for any endeavor. Lies, all of it, I know full well, but my heart is finding it hard to taste God's goodness while I run trying to find my place. What does the making of an apostle look like, and why does God choose those of us who are the most screwed up for this task? I don't understand His ways, but I want to know them.
I see structure needed where I cannot influence or bring about change. I see hurt with no means to heal it. I see a natural world in dire need of a supernatural God, and I cannot see what He's doing. I am in hiding, on the other side of something; I know not what. But I feel as though I need to know how to Love better. How do I love? Not very well if all that is on my lips is criticism. I want more than that in my life, in my heart. I want to start seeing the supernatural. So I need heaven's point of view.
If Jesus starves when I don't feed the hungry, hurts when I don't love the unlovely, cries when I leave the broken alone, then maybe to minister to the heart of God, I really have to minister to His people. Maybe loving God and loving others isn't as far a cry as we make it, and the children are the ones who will lead us. Maybe the face of God isn't some mystical thing we encounter only in the prayer room, but the look in the eyes of everyone we will ever meet in our life. If I can't love them properly, then I cannot claim to be a great lover of God. I deceive myself in this.
So the burning cry of my heart is God, show me yourself in my neighbor. Let me love like you do. And if I cannot, keep me from causing harm to my neighbor until I can love them rightly. He knows that I want to love Him more, so I go to where He is. He is the center. I simply orbit around Him.
Let my life be measured by how well I loved. All else means nothing.
I lost my sight. Somewhere along the way, I've felt controlled, manipulated, betrayed, and like I have to earn love. I feel like a job well done is not enough, and that although I put in constant hours, it will never be enough, not for any endeavor. Lies, all of it, I know full well, but my heart is finding it hard to taste God's goodness while I run trying to find my place. What does the making of an apostle look like, and why does God choose those of us who are the most screwed up for this task? I don't understand His ways, but I want to know them.
I see structure needed where I cannot influence or bring about change. I see hurt with no means to heal it. I see a natural world in dire need of a supernatural God, and I cannot see what He's doing. I am in hiding, on the other side of something; I know not what. But I feel as though I need to know how to Love better. How do I love? Not very well if all that is on my lips is criticism. I want more than that in my life, in my heart. I want to start seeing the supernatural. So I need heaven's point of view.
If Jesus starves when I don't feed the hungry, hurts when I don't love the unlovely, cries when I leave the broken alone, then maybe to minister to the heart of God, I really have to minister to His people. Maybe loving God and loving others isn't as far a cry as we make it, and the children are the ones who will lead us. Maybe the face of God isn't some mystical thing we encounter only in the prayer room, but the look in the eyes of everyone we will ever meet in our life. If I can't love them properly, then I cannot claim to be a great lover of God. I deceive myself in this.
So the burning cry of my heart is God, show me yourself in my neighbor. Let me love like you do. And if I cannot, keep me from causing harm to my neighbor until I can love them rightly. He knows that I want to love Him more, so I go to where He is. He is the center. I simply orbit around Him.
Let my life be measured by how well I loved. All else means nothing.
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