Hot Coffee

"Our Saviour kneels down and gazes upon the darkest acts of our lives. But rather than recoil in horror, he reaches out in kindness and says, 'I can clean that if you want.' And from the basin of his grace, he scoops a palm full of mercy and washes our sin."

Max Lucado 

I grasped the smooth ivory handle, picked up the cup, and placed it to my chapped lips that craved comfort from a cold, damp, windy night.  Feeling the not-warm mug press against my mouth, I sipped, then, wanted to spit.  It was lukewarm, which didn't meet my great expectations.   

Needing to catch the attention of our waitress, Jeff and I looked her way and politely motioned to her.  "I'm sorry, but my coffee isn't hot."  She sweetly apologized and returned minutes later with another cup and plenty, even more than I could drink, of fresh, steaming decaf.  Seeing the waves rise from my mug, I was relieved, and ready to move ahead and share some lovely moments with my love.

Lukewarm coffee would have diminished our date.  It was a late rainy Monday night, and my husband and I had just attended a beautiful revival service.  We wanted to share our souls and bask in the afterglow of God's blessings.  A quiet booth in a warm cafe with cups of coffee seemed the perfect capstone.  Lukewarm coffee just wouldn't have got it done. 

Lukewarm is perfect for a baby's bath, but not for coffee.  It makes it stale and steals it pretty aroma.  And, it makes a clear statement of "I am not the best" and "I could be hours old."

For coffee lovers, a cup of hot brew summons the senses.  The sight of steam dancing over a cup is alone bliss.  The coming warmth is calming.  The idea of the approaching flavor prepares the taste buds for unreserved, heartfelt sipping.  Which is why you do not see signs advertising "Cool Coffee Served," or "Fresh Roasted Lukewarm Java." 

But cool coffee helps me understand, . . .  to inhale and drink in, . . .

the God-breathed analogy in Revelation that rivets me to its text and shakes me to my soles.

“I know your works, that you are neither cold nor hot. I could wish you were cold or hot. So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth" (Revelation 3:15-16, NKJV).

The Lord cares about our passion for Him.  He takes it personally and checks it with His own sovereign thermometer.  He tries our savor to taste and see if we're a worthy drink offering.  Our temperature reading measures the worth of our worship.

God desires we are red-hot, on-fire, passionate worshipers and disciples.  He had even rather find us cold than lukewarm. 

Why would God rather we be cold than room temp? 

If we are cold, we know it.  We shiver in our sin.  We see uncovered goosebumps climb our barren arms.  And we sense the approaching agony of a frost-bitten heart.  We know our desperate need to find a warm place by God's flame.  We envy those fellow saints who pass us, doing their Father's business, while bundled in fleecy wools and cozy leathers.

If we are lukewarm, however, we do not feel.  We are not concerned.  We are not moved.  The fire we see in others does nothing to our need.  Their godly coverings do not make us jealous.  We do not desire to find a fire and warm our flesh.

"Lukewarm" means lacking enthusiasm or conviction; to be indifferent; unconcerned; uninterested; apathetic; Laodicean.*

Laodicea was one of the seven churches Christ addressed in the book of Revelation.  They believed they had no spiritual need.  They did not see their need for covering.  Christ therefore counseled them, "buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see" (Revelation 3:18, NIV).    

Jesus wanted to give the Laodiceans a new beginnning and fresh vision.  He wanted them to have their own personal revelation of Him.  He pleaded and said, "Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me" (3:19-20).

Christ wanted the Laodiceans to be close to Him.  To sit down with Him and dine.  To have an intimate meal with Him and know Him.  To know He loved them. 

Jesus wants the same for me and you.

He wants us to see.  He wants us to have personal need awareness.  He wants to give us His gold in exchange for our perceived wealth.  He wants us to experience the pain of spiritual blindness, so we can realize the poverty of self-life. 

Jesus wants us to be honest with ourselves and encounter His word, which is Christ Himself.  He desires that we know Him, not just serve Him, and not just know of Him.   

Do you know Him?  Do you dine with Him?  Do you sit down with Him?  Do you gaze at His beauty as He sits across the table?  Do you let His eyes slice your darkness? 

My coffee was lukewarm that chilly, Monday night.  It was not acceptable to me.  It's lackluster presence could have dulled the beauty of a blessed evening. 

I had to confess my need.  I had to bring the problem to the server, so she could fix it for me.  It wouldn't have been right to do it myself.  It wasn't my place. 

Jesus wants to be your server and fix things for you.  Do you taste the bitter water of indifference?  Are you struggling to choke down staleness? 

Let Jesus fix things for you.  Call Him to your table and tell Him your need.  Give Him your lukewarm chalice.  Jesus' own hands will take your cup, bring you a new, clean, empty vessel, and pour into it warmth, healing, life, and love.  You will not be disappointed.  You will no longer live alone from worldy wealth.  You will not want your old cup back.

Do not be afraid to let it go.  Do not be afraid to give up you lukewarm drink.  Do not be afraid of His transformational presence at your table.  Do not fear His humble hands. 

Great expectations wait to warm your soul.

Because He First Loved Us,

        





*Definitinon is from www.thefreedictionary.com.

DUST DIVINE

"All who call on God in true faith, earnestly from the heart, will certainly be heard, and will receive what they have asked and desired." 

 Martin Luther

It was up to my knees!  My four year old feet, donned in little girl boots, struggled to keep up with my dad as we made our way to the basement of our Atlanta, Georgia, home, looking for a shovel.  The grounds of our little Cape-Cod cottage on a hill were covered in snow, and with each step, I felt a candylike crunch beneath my feet.  I had to pull my petite self along through the frozen slush.  It must have been one of those Southern snows that is first a lovely, fluffy white but then becomes a nightmarish, slilppery, four-inch-thick cake, iced with sheer ice.

The cold and the wet white did not delight me then.  I had not yet learned the blessing it could be.  I wanted to be in the warmth of my cozy, lavender bedroom, surrounded by my dolls and tea sets and other toys.  Why in the world I was helping Daddy look for a shovel I do not know.  All I know is that tiny snippet of shovel-searching is my first snow memory.

Many snow memories have followed, and all of them have been joyful events, including the newest one, which occured today here in northern Alabama.  If I gazed out the window once today, I did so about thirty times, and by now, I know my friends who live in a proverbial blanket of white each winter must be laughing or shaking their heads in disbelief.

But a snow day in the Deep South is a gift of true luxury.  Children, of all ages, pray for it and wait for it each winter with great expectations, and when the sparkling specks of white begin to drift from the heavens and cling to the earth, we are overcome with joy and thankfulness for a few days of snowbound life if we're twice blessed.

You see, the rarity of our white blessing does not justify the purchase by our cities and counties for enough  trucks and plows and whatever it takes to clear the roads and keep them safe.  Henceforth, when snow accumulates, roads, schools, and most businesses close, and you hope you have been to the grocery store, for, short of an emergency, you may be homebound until temperatures climb above freezing.  A day that begins in normality suddenly turns into a new beginning of a blissful mini-vacation, as you are tucked within your home, nestled wtih family, food, and fun.

And, if you happen to have an empty nest, you have a lot of time of think.  Today was opportunity.

I am a constant analyser and assessor of self.  I observe my own motives.  Listen to my own voice.  Search my own soul.  Hear my own heart.

It is not easy.  It hurts.  It is exhausting.  It is costly.

For part of my morning devotional today, the Lord led me to Psalm 51.  It is David's offering of repentance after his sin of adultry with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah.

What impresses me most with the Psalm, are David's brokenness and honesty.  His words are woven with grief and watered with remorse.  His desire for God's grace and mercy rings with desperate appeal.  "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow" (7, NKJV).

I imagine David's painful prayer.  I see him walk and raise his voice to heaven.  I see him lie in dust and declare his demise.  I see him, in despair, rue the day of his birth.  I see him sink in sorrow, his face drowned by hot tears.   

I hear David cry and beg for God's mercy, and I hear the King weep and wail for his sin. 

David's guilt and pain gripped his life and tortured his soul.   

Through his own guilt, through the painful suffering of personal remorse, David discovers the true values of God.  As the psalmist experiences the reality of his own sin, as David faces his own failure and looks at that sin and failure through the eyes of His Redeemer, David has an incredible moment of truth.  "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart - these, O God, You will not despise" (17, NKJV).     

What an awesome moment of revelation!  What an awesome moment of relief!  God does not desire burnt offering for the sake of the offering.  God desires brokenness.  Humility.  Our own realization of our own spiritual helplessness.  God desires remorse.  Real repentence.  Deep sorrow that makes you want to change your life and never be the same again.

David found that humility and repentance for his crisis of sin.  We can find it, too, for any and every moment in our lives, even though what troubles us may seem so small.

How can we find brokenness, humility?  How can we experience great depth of sorrow for our sins, faults,  failures, and needs?  How can we grow into the reality of our weaknesses?  How can we have Holy Spirit transformation in our lives?  How can we change?

As David did - only through God's creation.  What emotion the psalmist must have felt as he wrote, "Create in me a clean (pure, holy, free from corruption) heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me" (10, NKJV). 

Listen, friends!  The Hebrew word David uses for create is the same one used in Genesis 1:1!  The psalmist confessed his inability!  The psalmist proclaimed God's ability!

David's answer, our answer, is the creative voice of God spoken into our lives.  The same voice that said, "Let there be light" (Genesis 1:3), is more than able to speak His power into our lives and give us whatever we need, including a new heart.   

A new heart!  It's what I'm seeking this year.  I want a heart like Jesus' heart.  Honestly, it intimidates me to pray for it.  I know it will not come cheaply.  In fact, I am very sure it has great cost.  I hope I am ready to pay the price for a new heart!  To sacrifice for God's miraculous moving with power! 

Will you please join me in this journey?  If not, will you please pray for me?  Ask the Lord to give me the tenacity and faith to allow Him to speak His creative word and do His creative work, so I will be a vessel that pleases God. 

The Lord is so good!  He has prepared our steps!  Each part of our day was planned and written in His book before our very conception (Psalm 139:16). 

Today was the day that snow would have new symbolism for me.  When I awoke this morning, I had no idea God would bring such a prolific metaphor into my life!  The clean, white dust from heaven tells of a merciful God who purifies and renews and speaks creative miracles into my life and your life.  Falling snow is new hope.  New hope is new creation.  New creation is new life.  New life means a new heart.  Praise His name, Elohim, the God Who creates!