3:45 a.m. is a time I rarely see on my bedroom clock, but this morning my eyes opened wide and stared at these bright red numbers projected onto my ceiling. Feeling the body warmth of my little Pop-Tart sandwiched between Victoria and me, my mind immediately started rehearsing over and over again the words of John the Baptist, "He must increase, but I must decrease." (John 3:30) I've always been struck by these words, some of the most piercing for me from the Bible. They hit me square between the eyes because my mind is so often on me; making much of me, drawing others to me, highlighting me, projecting me (or someone other than me but what I want others to perceive me to be),... it's always me, me, me. This is where my mind is most of the time. Why, even this Blog entry is about me. And this is where my mind was this morning when my eyes opened, but without a shadow of a doubt God was redirecting my thoughts through His Spirit to these profound, but simple words from the Baptist. But how? How do I do this? So, I had to get out of bed and start reading and writing.
O. K., so John was, among other things, trying to clear up any confusion among his followers about who he was and what his role was in relation to the Messiah, which in and of itself is deep enough. But on another level he was concerned about diverting attention away from him and toward Christ. So he used the parable of a wedding, its bridegroom and the friend of the bridegroom (e.g., our modern day "Best Man") to describe the relationship between them. The Best Man of a wedding, while concerned about the details of the wedding, is all about directing attention to the bridegroom. His eyes are fixated on him, and he's also looking about the bridegroom to ensure everything about the wedding is flawlessly executed so that everyone else's eyes are directed to the bridegroom. He's also excited about the bride, her beauty and the union between them. Enraptured in the moment, there's effervescent joy about the relationship that is about to be consummated.
And that's it! It's joy in Jesus; my head, my love, my Savior, and my Lord. I mistakenly think there's joy in me, but there's nothing joyous about me whatsoever. What is there that's attractive about me at all, except that which Christ commandeers in me? "For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain." (Philippians 1:21) And, "... unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains by itself alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." (John 12:24) The more I know of Christ, the more I love of Christ, and the more I love of Christ the more I die to myself.
The cosmos revolves around Him (not me), and is revolved by Him. I'll never forget Victoria's lovingly blunt words (she probably doesn't even remember this) during one of my deeper bouts with depression a few years ago (which was quite selfish of me), "Honey, it's not about you." She's right, and John the Baptist is right. I pray that today I might die to self that He might live, that I might slay myself that His love might reign, and that I might be disdained that Jesus might be rejoiced.
Watching the Daybreak,
Tom
O. K., so John was, among other things, trying to clear up any confusion among his followers about who he was and what his role was in relation to the Messiah, which in and of itself is deep enough. But on another level he was concerned about diverting attention away from him and toward Christ. So he used the parable of a wedding, its bridegroom and the friend of the bridegroom (e.g., our modern day "Best Man") to describe the relationship between them. The Best Man of a wedding, while concerned about the details of the wedding, is all about directing attention to the bridegroom. His eyes are fixated on him, and he's also looking about the bridegroom to ensure everything about the wedding is flawlessly executed so that everyone else's eyes are directed to the bridegroom. He's also excited about the bride, her beauty and the union between them. Enraptured in the moment, there's effervescent joy about the relationship that is about to be consummated.
And that's it! It's joy in Jesus; my head, my love, my Savior, and my Lord. I mistakenly think there's joy in me, but there's nothing joyous about me whatsoever. What is there that's attractive about me at all, except that which Christ commandeers in me? "For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain." (Philippians 1:21) And, "... unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains by itself alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." (John 12:24) The more I know of Christ, the more I love of Christ, and the more I love of Christ the more I die to myself.
The cosmos revolves around Him (not me), and is revolved by Him. I'll never forget Victoria's lovingly blunt words (she probably doesn't even remember this) during one of my deeper bouts with depression a few years ago (which was quite selfish of me), "Honey, it's not about you." She's right, and John the Baptist is right. I pray that today I might die to self that He might live, that I might slay myself that His love might reign, and that I might be disdained that Jesus might be rejoiced.
Watching the Daybreak,
Tom
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