Beyond the Garden Gate

Consequently, through a series of self-inflicted and miserable events, we walked right out of the garden and into the desert and we wonder why we're so thirsty all the time and in need of refreshing. The truth is, there is nothing out here to sustain us. The bigger truth is that we're supposed to be the ones delivering the only hope of survival in a dry and thirsty land.

We're not supposed to be parched. We're supposed to be overflowing. Stop digging around in dry river beds and begging from scavengers, and get back to the garden.

The garden represents communion with God. It's where Adam walked with God in the cool of the day. It's where Jesus spoke with Him before his arrest and crucifixion. Adam, however, closed the gate to the garden, blocking access to and communion with God. But in contrast through his obedience, Jesus is the gate to the garden. (John 14:6)

Jesus then becomes our only hope for communion with the Father. It is only through Him that we are reconciled and restored to the right standing relationship that Adam experienced with Him before the fall.

Here's the deal, though. Now there's work to be done. There is now an entire world of people wandering out in the desert, because the fallen Adam and Eve birthed them there. God wants them back, too. You want a whole new perspective on the value of a tall, cool glass of water? Go find a millionaire in the desert who hasn't seen water for days and see what kind of check he'd be willing to write.

It's not enough to go visit the garden when you need some refreshing or to hang out and ignore the work at hand. You see, we were commissioned to go, meaning, "I love you, but you can't stay here and ignore the ones still out there dying in the desert." What do we have to offer them if we won't carry some water to them? If we lack the capacity for what they need, how can we save them? Some of us have grown way too comfortable inhabiting the edges of the garden, only calling out to those venturing close enough to the peripheral that we can reach them without starving ourselves. On the other hand, though, there are those that Jesus is referring to in John 7. (vs 37-38) They have increased their capacity to be filled and they travel deep into the darkness of the desert with something that both sustains them and that they can offer the lost. When you offer water to a dying man in the desert, I promise you that once he is able, he will follow you back to the source. You won't have to convince him. So, don't you dare go out there and try to describe the water of life when you should have taken it with you. You have to take something that can heal them and bring restoration to reverse the effects of the dehydration before they could ever hope to follow you back to the garden. Jesus says, "Come and be filled."

Let your presence bring comfort,
Let your words breathe hope,
Let your hands show compassion,
But let the Holy Spirit flow through you and bring revival and restoration.

Without the Holy Spirit, all you can do is be there with them as they die, if you manage to reach them at all.

As a believer, the fruits of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-23) are the outward representation of your internal confession. They are the fruit of the vine that is firmly rooted in the fertile soil of your identity in Christ Jesus. They are the proclaimation of your priesthood, the declaration of righteousness. Without them, it should be no surprise that your identity will be mistaken. Try as you may, they cannot be fabricated with your good intention. They are not the cause of good things. They are the effects of the greatest thing ever given to mankind. So let us stop covering ourselves with the illusions of worldly grandeur and instead, let us be filled with the Holy Spirit, let Him clothe us in the splendid colors of righteousness, and let our garments be called Praise.

Beyond the Threshold

I did something very dangerous this evening. I went to church. I should clarify. I went to a church where nobody knew my name, and I wasn't in charge of anything. I was welcomed as a visitor with firm handshakes and eager introductions even when I was in the wrong room. I experienced the love of Christ this evening in a way that I've longed for for some time now, in the simplicity of a genuine smile that says "I don't know you, but I see Jesus in you.".
You may ask "what's so dangerous about all that?". To which I would reply, "nothing" on the surface, but in the shadows the darkness trembles. It trembles with every step beyond the threshold and into the unfamiliar places of our extended family. There is a knowledge among the darkness and the shadows that reminds them of how dangerous the united body of Christ must be. How, when we lay our denominational differences aside, (differences that the majority of believers in any denomination could not articulate if their lives depended on it) and choose to seek this Kingdom together, the shaking of things that must be shaken is embraced and all that remains is cherished beyond measure for the awesome gift that it is. "...and the greatest of these is love."

"...as long as it is called 'today' " Heb. 3:7-15

Years ago I had a dream/vision/encounter, call it what you like. It altered my existence and it still won't let go of me. It flows like this:





I was swimming in the public pool of my childhood, all by myself. As I swam toward the ladder at the edge of the pool I noticed that I was not alone after all. There at the edge of the pool stood a very easily identifiable, stereotypical Jesus. I knew it was him because of the nearly blinding white robe trimmed out with the blue sash across his chest, precisely what Anglo-Saxon/Scandinavian Jesus is supposed to look like. He reached down to me and helped me out of the water. For some reason it didn't seem odd to me at all that my Saviour was pool side, hanging out with me. Maybe he had been there all along throughout my childhood. This day however, was not typical. Jesus let me catch my breath and dry off a bit while waiting for my full attention. Once he had it, he proceeded to divulge the purpose of this particular encounter. "You, are going to do the high-dive today.", he said with a very anticipatory grin on his face. Now you must understand that as a child I had been absolutely horrified of the high-dive. Somehow in this moment though, there was not a shadow of fear to be found. (Go figure.) So, I nodded and smiled back, trying my best to conceal the anxiety welling up within me. After all, this was Jesus, and if Jesus says "Today is the day you conquer your 'high-dive' fears.", then it's pretty much a done deal, right? So, he stepped to the side and motioned toward the deeper end of the pool, to the towering concrete protrusion that for so long had stood as a monument to all of my childhood fears. Today however, I would reign victorious over this looming nemesis. I, for once in my life, walked and did not run around the edge of the pool toward my inevitable date with destiny and triumph, psyching myself up with every step. I arrived at the base of the diving board ladder which seemed to stretch every bit as high as "Jack's been stalk", and glanced over at Jesus for the go ahead. He was still smiling, and now motioned toward the top of the ladder. I began to climb, clenching the handrails with white knuckled fists making certain of my footing with each step of my ascent. Let's face it no one wants to wipe out in front Jesus. At last I had reached my chalky white summit and softly told myself "Don't look down. Don't look down." I then, very slowly half stepped my way out to the end of the board and again looked over to my lone spectator for some bit of approval. He smiled, cheered with a bit of parental giddiness and clapped his hands in encouragement. I began to bounce a bit as I clenched my toes over the end of board, my feet still virtually glued in place. It was at this point that I finally opened my eyes to fully take in the scene before me. There it was, or wasn't rather. The pool that I had only moments before been swimming and splashing in, was absolutely empty. Dry. Not even a trace of water remained. Needless to say, I was more than a bit surprised at the chasm that lay before me and beneath me. I stopped bouncing and turned my attention to the figure at the side of the pool below me. He wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, his face had taken on the hopeful expression of a master at the testing of his apprentice. I knew enough about him even then to understand that I was indeed being tested. "I get it." I said "This is a faith thing right? No problem." I smiled at him and proceeded to proclaim my faith in his awesome cosmic abilities. For some reason I never questioned exactly where all that water went. It really didn't matter now. I closed my eyes and began to bounce a bit again as my faith swelled up within me. "I believe that you can fill the pool. You fill the pool and I'll jump." I spilled out into the atmosphere. Perhaps I just needed to hear it for myself. I opened my eyes expecting that my simple proclamation had been enough to inspire something miraculous. Nothing still. I looked again toward my Jesus, a bit perplexed now. My bouncing stopped once more and my knees weakened as my heart pulsed with uncertainty. He spoke. "You jump, and I'll fill the pool."





I've been standing on the edge of this board for far too long now. Always on the edge of the amazing and miraculous, everyday the choice before me to dive into this destiny.