I'm using a cool iPhone app to try and read my way through the Bible. A lot stands out to me- a lot I thought I knew was slightly different than I remembered.
One of the most interesting parts is how early - by chapter 4 of the first book of the Bible - people are sacrificing to the Lord. And God's desiring it, even drawing conclusions about His people by their sacrifices. When Noah finally gets out of the Ark onto dry land, God makes his promise to never flood the Earth again - after he smells Noah's sacrifice. The way it's written, it's like God's promise was a reaction not to the severity of the flood, but to the sweetness of Noah's sacrifice.
Through all the stuff we've been through, I realize that our first reaction to tragedy is so childishly selfish, it's almost infantile. Jen called me last night. The van had a flat tire. I answered, "Oh...great." I was mad. we've had enough, haven't we? I don't want flat tires. When I found out about my father's tremendous decline, I was so angry. ANGRY. Is this the way God treats his servants? Lets them fall into terrible weakness? I was afraid. Afraid that in 30 years or so, that'd be me, and my kids would be struggling to deal with my weakness, and I'd be someone they'd be caring for.
Look, I don't want to sacrifice anything. I've been holding everything as tightly as I can. But the undeniable lesson is that what we're clutching isn't ours.
So it goes. I want Zoe back so I can hold her in her damaged body and feel her smiling face against my cheek. I want that. I want it so bad it breaks my heart. So does Nancy.
I never would have guessed life is this hard. But it's infinitely harder if we don't understand sacrifice, and how it pleases God and makes us somehow closer to the things He wants us to be.
The sacrifice He's asking for us us. To climb on to the altar and offer up our lives that we're so desperately trying to own and control. To learn the lesson that the earliest humans knew - that God loves a good sacrifice. It pleases Him. It draws Him close.
Take my sacrifice. I'm afraid I don't have much left. Make me new.
The Altar
by Nichole Nordemann
I'm at the end of myself, I just dropped out of the running
I don't recall when I last pulled the shades and said "here comes the sun, here comes the new day"
Someone remind me again that joy might show up on occasion
I'm sitting here with my hands on my head, and my eyes on the ground, wondering if I'll be found by You
Will you make me new? Will you take what's left of me?
I guarantee that it won't be a fair trade.
Will you set me free from what's keeping me afraid?
I know I've prayed it all before, but I'm back on the altar
I don't believe what they say about one foot in front of the other
If my life was a map, you'd see every last step just circling around, still lost, never found by You
So will you make me new? Will you take what's left of me?
I guarantee that it won't be a fair trade.
Will you set me free from what's keeping me afraid?
I know I've prayed it all before, but I'm back on the altar
Maybe last year I'd have made empty promises
Maybe last month I'd have tried to pull strings
But I don't have one single chip left to bargain with
The only thing left is me needing You to make me new
Will you take what's left of me?
I guarantee that it won't be a fair trade
Will you set me free from what's keeping me afraid?
I know I've prayed it all before
But I'm back
On the altar
