"Break up your unplowed ground."
I mean Jeremiah had a ton to say this morning about evil and sin and mocking God. He would never have been voted president by shaking his finger at the camera and saying, "America, you have grown fat and sleek, and your evil deeds have no limits." Jer 5:27-28, minus "America."
Eyeroll. Change the channel. Ah, there, a rerun of Friends.
But when you open the Bible with the attitude that God IS going to tell you something you NEED to hear, and that the message with supercede time and culture, then you can see truth bleeding all over the page and into the present age. Into your life.
"Break up your unplowed ground."
OK, where am I hard, dense, packed down, trampled on, thorny, bristly, apathetic?
The sharp blade severs the soil, cutting all those weedy roots woven like a tiny prison, turning up fresh loam, loosening what was tight like a gag. But only because I consent. Because I'm tired of claiming only the comfy parts of the Bible like blessing and unconditional love and grace, thinking I can write my songs, and homeschool my children, and make my home a haven, and serve when it is convenient.
David Platt in Radical and Jen Hatmaker in Seven and Katie Davis in Kisses from Katie point out my unplowed ground. What am I doing? What am I planting? Why is this faith of mine so easy? What is the point of all this accumulated stuff? Where shall I go? How messy shall I get? How much shall I spend?
How bright might I shine?
How much might grow?
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