Scripture of the Day
“I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your care.”
Freedom is rest.
Rest is being taken care of by God.
I think all my fight amounts to nothing is his hands. The world taught me how to fight for goals: food, alertness, drive, clothing, shelter, hopes and dreams, friendship and/or respect, and more.
God offers and alternative called the Mountain of Zion.
I think it is the state of receiving all that I would otherwise fight for, away from God’s help.
So that makes reality…
The smallest need being food.
The biggest need being righteousness
I think both are included in God’s salvation and not limited but all-inclusive.
But I can’t get to salvation by any sort of effort. So, I wait on God. And I read my Bible while I wait. Salvation is always an act of being saved from danger. I just ask for help and then wait, trusting in his word, which tells me about his nature and his promises.
I read testimonies and prophesies from thousands of years passed. And I am reminded of the stories I’ve been told about, already. And I learn, in the details that God’s salvation has always been there. I search the scriptures for his works and deeds. I let go of the idea of expectations against myself. I let go of any requirement I thought I was supposed to pick up. I give him every burden. And I wait for him to cut the chains, which bind me. The joy of the Lord will come, for He is trustworthy. And I read and learn about goodness, it’s measure which I can’t see the height of, a mountain. But I forget about the idea that I’m seeing a mountain which I must climb. Instead, I look and perceive that I am being brought onto that mountain as place to be taken care of by He who is Good. And I forget about all the things which have demand my service, but I don’t turn around, lest I am confused. I look up. And I see his face. I listen and I hear him speak to me, ‘I love you; I must take care of you on my mountain.’ And I concede to be taken care of, and I drop all my life, even though my hands aches from carrying what quickly became heavy in my weakness. And he holds it, all. And he heals my aching hands. And I am brought to a tree whose fruit is good. I eat and I am fed. I rest and I sleep. And nothing crashes and no evil attacks. I am home, in his home.
I trust Him.
I will know what means to be His and to be a person living on the provision of “his care.”