More about Burnt Offerings
So…It’s kind of like crabgrass.
It starts out soft and bright green. It feels good on bare feet, the chickens enjoy grazing on it and it is a welcome sight after the brown of winter. And then it happens: Seed stalks begin to grow. Not just upright, they lay down and creep along the ground where foot traffic threshes the seed from the stalk, and sows it under the protective canopy of the other plants. Soon, it has taken over large swaths of ground and as the temperatures rise it begins to be scratchy and crunchy, seeds sticking in your sock. It is usurping the resources that were provided for the grass I was hoping would grow in my yard. And as summer advances, this invader dries out and dies, dropping seed for the next season.
It’s a very successful approach for a plant, and I applaud it’s design.
But it doesn’t please me. It’s not the grass I was looking for. And it’s sneaky. It’s trying to take over the world …at least the world of my backyard. (We’re not going to even talk about what is growing in the front.)
It is like when I try to be the hero or the rescuer. It might look good for a while, but the seeds of that kind of rebellion or idolatry will result in me burning out (or burning up), because, convinced of my own rightness, my pride goes unchecked and my spirit remains unbroken. I am in trouble.
Both hero and rescuer are God’s job. Jesus commissioned us to share in His work, but when I start believing I can do His work for Him or without Him, I place myself in danger of becoming a crispy critter.
For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. —Psalms 51:16-17
Did you catch that? God is not pleased with burnt offerings because what He wants from us is a living sacrifice, one characterized by a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart.
Broken means: burst, broken, crushed. Contrite means: collapsed, broken, sore, all the stuffin’s out of it, bruised and battered. When I recognize my absolute burst, broken, crushed-ness, especially when trying to do His job for Him, He accepts this broken wreck of a former usurper, and does not chide or rebuke me, but simply opens His arms and draws me to His chest.
That’s why I am still
Following Jesus every day in the everyday,
Christi
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