People of the Spirit, worshiping Jesus in all places, at all times

Reading Scripture with my background is interesting. Reformed, Pentecostal, Anglican, all coming together.

From the Reformed of my high school & college years, I assume that we all come to Scripture thru lenses and external measures foreign to it (“Reading Scripture in its original historical and grammatical context”).

From the Pentecostal of my youth and adulthood, I assume that Scripture is addressed to me directly as a member of Christ–immediate, making me an original recipient and hearer.

From the Anglican of my life since college, I assume that Emmaus is ultimate–that Scripture is canonically and forever bearing witness to Jesus and His Gospel.

They have different contributions but they are all grounded in the conviction that I did not deserve or choose this revelation but that Jesus Christ–the same yesterday, today and for ever–graciously delights to send the Word to human flesh and blood.

So reading Scripture is, in some ways, an echo of the mystery of the Incarnation, and its work is like the promise to Mary: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you” –bringing forth Christ in us, the hope of glory. (Dave Ketter, Facebook/Twitter–July 2 2016)

But like I said, it’s not a revelation that I deserved, chose, or earned. It’s not a revelation I even invited. It’s a revelation God has sent into the world, into the darkness, into the primal depths of my fallen life. It calls out and speaks “Let there be!”

Let there be. Just like the beginning. The primordial chaos starts to take shape with new visions: light, division, gathering, separating, hardness, softness, new sounds, new life, new company, new sights. New earth. A new way to be. “It’s good!”

Oh, good. So, so very good. That’s the message of the Word. But wait, the night is still there. The Sea is still there. The decay is still there. The fear is still there. Death is still there. It’s here, near, and I can still taste it. I hear its rumbling hunger deep within me. The yawning hunger for the things that lead to death. I’m hungering for anything but the Word.

But still God sends it. Still the Word is pours into my ears. Still it gets poured down into the depths of my throat. The abyss of my heart begins to fill up. The chasms of desire and death start breaking in new directions aligned with the Deity. The demons, so frequently buzzing and swarming, begin to scatter and howl away in every direction expect in mine. Because the Word has more to say:

Open your hand.

Receive your sight.

Stand up. Take up your mat. Walk.

Come to Me.

Your sins are forgiven.

It. Is. Finished.

Oh, it’s so uninvited. So unlooked for. So undeserved. So unchosen.

But it makes me the Invited. It makes me the Looked-For. It makes me the Deserved. It makes me the Chosen. It makes me Someone Else–a Son. Beloved. Royal. Spirit-Burdened. Incarnated.

All because of the Word-made-flesh, who keeps sending His Word.

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