My two natures each sought victory. I identified with Paul, remembering the words he spoke in Romans 7 of the inner war. For the moment, my Christ’ nature won, yet often my flesh nature waves its victory flag.

Why is it so difficult to say those two little words? I’m sorry.

We can’t maintain healthy relationships without humility and repentance, but we all struggle to allow Christ to rule in our hearts.  My flesh nature and your flesh nature are never truly dead in this life and frequently resurrect to remind us.

Paul reminds us in Philippians 2:3-5 that we are to do nothing out of selfish ambitions or vain conceits, but that we are, in humility, to consider others more than ourselves, having the same attitude of Christ.

How do we allow our selfish natures to be crucified? The best answer seems to be “one nail at a time”.

Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, year by year, we walk with Christ. We learn more of his heart and his nature. We learn more of our own heart and our own nature.

At the moment we first trust him, we receive his nature. The work of our sanctification begins.  The journey continues until one day we look upon his face. In the meantime, the Spirit of God within us beckons us to follow his voice, lay down our agendas, love well, and live fully.

Sounds simple, huh?

Yet scripture often uses warfare analogies to picture the reality of the process of sanctification. It’s war. We have an enemy. Satan. And we have an enemy. Our flesh.

My flesh always feels I am right and others are wrong, but as I walk with Christ in commitment to his heart, he whispers to me when I will listen. He nudges me, encouraging me to face the truth.  He woos me to his heart.

Oh, I am not always wrong, but I am not always right.

An outright apology can go miles in restoring relationships, and it’s almost humorous to watch how most people struggle to apologize when they are wrong (remember, I’ve already admitted I am president of this club sometimes.)

“Well, I felt bad that day.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You just misunderstood me.”

Oh, there are a million variations but the bottom line is most of us just hate to apologize. We are selfish. We hold onto our need to be right with everything within us. 

It’s in our giving up, our humility, our obedience, and our heart for relationships that we can say the words, “I’m sorry.”

Plain and simple.

No excuses.

“I was wrong.”

Not all folks will walk in peace with us ((Romans 12:18), but we are responsible for our own hearts and have to trust God with the outcome. We are not to be doormats, either, but today I am speaking of owning our personal wrongdoing.

Be a peacemaker today. Own your own stuff. Put on your big boy or big girl pants and just say it, “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

When we come to that place, God’s grace rushes into our hearts, healing us, and restoring our peace.  His beautiful presence shines inside us like sunshine on a springtime day. We are warmed by His goodness. That goodness, that peace, is there for us all today.

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A few months ago, I found myself in the worst storm of my life.  The waters raged all around me.  They filled my boat.  The wind blew violently. The boat of my life creaked and groaned and at times, barely stayed afloat during the storm. The wind and water were thunderously loud. I could hear no voice above the noise. Many days, I was unable to even call Jesus’ name to ask for rescue. I felt so abandoned by God that I couldn’t even read my Bible because it felt so painful to look into the Word I had lived by, my most precious manna, and feel it had failed me.  I couldn’t listen to the music of worship because it reminded me of the intimacy I had once felt with God and other people I cared for. Prayer seemed impossible because I felt I no longer knew how – the ways I had prayed before must have been wrong or inadequate.  And many days, I felt so betrayed by God Himself that I was unsure whether or not He was a reality.

As my storm raged relentlessly around my life, God refused to rescue me. It seemed He was distant, cold, uncaring. I identified with Christ on the cross saying, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  I wanted to scream, “Why don’t you love me?  I am your daughter.  I am your servant.  I’ve tried to be faithful to you.  I’ve been praying endlessly.  I’ve felt the warfare.  I’ve fasted.  I’ve cried out to you.  I’ve stood on our covenant.  I’ve stood on the blood of Christ.  Why did you not answer me by saving me from this hell?  You have abandoned me!”

And still He was silent.  Had I built my life upon a lie?  I couldn’t even reach out for His hand in the intensity of the storm.

The storm has quietened now.  There are still some waters splashing around my feet.  At times, the water beats upon my face.  There are moments when the wind gusts again, but the eye of the storm has passed.

I can sleep again.  I can eat.  I can read my Bible and pray. I can worship again. I can believe again. I can smile and laugh.

And I have a peaceful understanding.  I see that in God’s refusal to rescue me from the storm, He was beginning the deepest work of my life. 

In Mark 4 we find Jesus had spent the day teaching many and explaining “all things” to his disciples.  What intimacy – to be in Jesus’ inner circle!  To get the inside scoop! The he invites his disciples to “cross over to the other side” with him. Perhaps a pre-planned test on the teaching they had received and believed?? Then we find this interesting phrase, “when they had left the multitude.” How often God must separate us from the people to teach us!  We are so easily influenced by the crowd.  I’m sure the disciples were kinda high on the experiences of the day and their special place with Jesus. Then they entered the boat, and again, how interesting that the scripture says, “they took Jesus along in the boat as he was.” Ever wondered what that means? Jesus gets into our boats on his own terms – just as he is.

Then the great windstorm arose and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling but Jesus was asleep on a pillow in the stern (the back – maybe I venture too far here, but Jesus is in the back allowing them to steer this boat in the storm).  Now the disciples were pretty ticked off.  They could stand it no longer.  They awakened him and said, “Teacher, (Like, I mean, you’re supposed to be our leader here!), do you not care that we are perishing?”

Jesus gets up, rebukes the wind and calms the sea and asks why they are afraid.  Then he asked another painful question, “How is it that you have NO faith?” And then, they are awestruck as they realize that don’t really have a clue about  who this “Teacher” really is.

So it was for me.  I found myself taking Jesus into my boat on a preplanned trip to the other side (his plan, not mine)  as he drew me away from the multitude of people who normally surrounded me. I knew I was one of his special ones.  I was a disciple.  He taught me. I spent time with him.  And we went on trips together.  Then, he rode with me into a fierce storm – totally unconcerned about the strength of my boat of faith.  He slept.  Finally, I awakened him with my screams, “Don’t you care that I am dying?” Eventually for me, not immediately, he rebuked the wind and calmed the sea and asked me painful questions.

“Mikki, why are you afraid?”

“Well, Jesus, you know, it’s like a terrible storm.  There is no hope.  You seem to have forgotten about me.  It’s seems that you are asleep on the job. In case you haven’t noticed, my boat is about to be torn asunder and it is sinking, too.”

 My heart is broken as he asks an even more painful question.

 “Mikki, why don’t you trust me?”

And hence, the reason he waited to rescue me.  There were some deeply rooted issues of fear and trust within my heart that needed to be addressed.  Yes, Jesus didn’t send this storm, but he knew it was coming.  He knew that after I got to the other side, I would be so much better – so much stronger.  I would know that my boat of faith is really that – my own boat. Not my husband’s or my church’s or my friends’. He knew that he was committed to the trip with me through the storm even when I couldn’t seem to find him, he was there. He knew that the painful questions would provide a path to healing in my innermost parts.

If it were up to me, would I choose such a storm again even when I knew it would be beautifully calm afterward?  No. No way.  Absolutely not.  Forget it. No religious answers from me. I am too human for such a level of trust and understanding. Yet, am I thankful for the work he has done in me and is continuing to do?  Yes, with all my heart.

And I find I am safe with him.  Safe to ask him difficult questions just as the disciples did.  I am loved even during the storms. I know more of his commitment to make me whole, to teach me how to receive more and more of his love. I see that he is secure in who he is.  Maybe that sounds strange, but I find that he has not been threatened by the intensity of my questions.  He just is who he is and knows I will find him somewhere in the storm. 

And even if just for today, (for I can’t say that I won’t fiercely question him again— and by the way, he wants us to trust him enough to engage him just as Jacob did when he wrestled with God), I can say, “Lord, I understand why you didn’t rescue me.”  I can’t truthfully thank him for it yet; it still hurts too badly.  But I can see that just as God had to turn away from Christ on the cross and allow Christ’s pain for the hope of humanity, when He turned away from me and allowed my pain, it was for my hope and perhaps for the hope of those who follow me as I follow Him.  May I never offer them a quick, easy gospel message that is not a true picture of what it means to be a disciple of Christ.

You know, the rescue business is risky business. Christ gave his all to rescue me and you. We have to get into the danger zone to rescue others.  But as we learn in greater ways that he will faithfully rescue us in our storms at the right time, perhaps we will also learn how to rescue others.

Here is my list to ponder:

1. Understand there is a process God has preplanned for each life.
2. Be willing to teach others and get into the boats of their life.
3. Sleep when God says it is time to sleep. (You are not supposed to help until God says it is time.)
4. Awaken when God says it is time to help.
5. Keep your peace.
6. Be sure to look for the big picture.
7. Ask the difficult questions that will help others grow (if you can do it in love and with the right heart.)
8. Be ready to transition to the next place God takes you and those you minister to – the other side – knowing that all storms eventually end.

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One person.  Just one.  What would we give for one heart? One life? How valuable is one?  For Jesus, it was often about the encounter he would have with one.  One life.  One who needed freedom.  One who needed healing.  One who was hungry for something real.

It seems to me that if the son of God was walking on the earth, He should  maximize his ministry by touching the multitudes.  And he did that, too, but how often do we see Jesus planning his day around an encounter with one person?  He went out of his normal routine to go through Samaria to meet the woman at the well.  If we honestly evaluated Jesus’ day planner, would we criticize the waste of time and energy he placed on encountering “one” when the needs around him were so overwhelming?  So many needed healing.  So many needed encouragement.  So many needed what he had to give.  So many.  So many.  So many. When the scripture talks about Jesus going to Samaria that day, it says he needed to go through Samaria. 

John 4 records the story about Jesus and the Samartian woman.  It begins by describing the popularity of Jesus’ ministry in Judea.  Successful ministry.  Jesus was making more disciples than John.  And then he leaves Judea.  He walked away.  He “needed” to go through Samaria. I wouldn’t do that, would you?  After all, if many are becoming disciples, isn’t that where God must be working?  Yet Jesus knew there was one who was desperate to encounter something real.  

There was one there.  One who needed what Jesus could give her.  One who was broken and used up with nothing of value left to give.  But her heart drew Jesus.  Her emptiness pulled on him.  He went way out of his way to meet her.  Remember that in those days, the journey required a lot of effort.  Jesus and his disciples didn’t jump into their car and buzz onward to Samaria.  Can you imagine the grumbling that might have occurred as the disciples thought, “Samaria.  Great.  I hate that place. The half-breeds live there.  Can’t we go around the city as we usually do?”

We find Jesus at Jacob’s well.  Tired.  Weary.  Hungry. Yet his physical needs didn’t overtake his spiritual senses.  And there he encounted one.  One woman.  One desperate woman.  One of no apparent value. A woman. Strike one.  A woman of Samaria. Half-breed.  Strike two. A woman of  bad character.  Strike three.   The world had declared she was “Out!”    Yet Jesus “needed” to meet her.  Her hunger pulled him out of the normal routine.  Her hunger trumped everything else that day.  All the important expectations that the Judeans were placing upon Jesus. Everything the disciples expected to happen. 

Jesus asked her for a drink.  She was used to being used by men. She immediately began to view Jesus through her lens. “You are a Jew. I am a Samaritan. I know that you reject me already.  You are a man.  I know you just want me for what I can do for you.” 

Yet Jesus draws her in.  He began to tell her of a gift. “What? A gift for me?” He began to connect with her hunger.  “Living water?”  How she longed for something living. Something real.  She didn’t know how to describe the longing.  It was buried deep, deep within her.  Under the rejection.  Under the woundedness.  Under the pain.  And Jesus began to touch the longing. 

She immediately thought in the natural.  “You have no way to give me water.”  Then up comes her religious box.  “Jacob gave us this well…” 

Jesus offers to trade religion for relationship.  “You’ll continue to thirst if you only drink from Jacob’s well.  Drink my water.  It will quench your thirst forever.  I will GIVE you something which will become within you not a well, but a fountain.  It will spring up.  A fountain of life.  Refreshing. Something lasting and real.”  

“Give me this water so I don’t have to be thirsty anymore or have to come here – in the middle of the day – alone – despised – in the heat – and have to work to drink. Meet my physical needs.” 

The hunger within her is being stirred.  Then Jesus goes inside her longing.  “Go get your husband.” 

“Well, I don’t have a husband”. 

“Right, you’ve had five and the one you have now is not your husband.” 

Religious box again.  “I perceive that you are a prophet.”  She needed to change the subject.  That subject was too painful.  “Let’s talk religion.  It’s less personal.  There must be an answer in religion.” 

Then Jesus challenges what she thinks she knows already and basically invites her into relationship with him. 

The disciples return.  They are amazed.  “Why in the world would Jesus do this?  Why would he talk to a woman and a Samaritan at that?” Can you imagine the thoughts in their minds?  “We shouldn’t have left him alone.  He is exercising bad judgment.  He is breaking the rules.”  

And the woman left and began to speak to the men about Christ.  The ones who had used her and then threw her away.  She knew they were empty, too. 

Then the disciples said, “Jesus, you need to eat.”   I imagine they thought, “My god, I’m glad that woman is gone.  We’ve got to eat so we can get on our way to the important things God has given us to do.” 

And Jesus replies, “I’ve been eating food.” 

How confusing was that?  Who brought him food? 

Yet, the food that was filling Jesus himself was the food of doing the Father’s will. Encountering one.  One hungry lost soul.  One desperately hungry woman.  One half-breed woman who was on her sixth man. 

As we plan our days, we often think about how to maximize our efforts by “killing two birds with one stone” but how many times do we plan our days around an encounter with one? Our tired souls cry out, “There is so much to do.  So much to do.  So much to do today, Lord.  I’m so busy today. I’m already tired.  Don’t ask anymore of me today, Lord.”

Yet, how wonderfully filled we are when we eat the food the Father gives us!  There is something so intoxicating about connecting with the hunger deep within someone’s soul. The marvel of it takes over the moment.  Food and drink and life as we normally live it become so distant.  The fragrance of Christ fills our being.  And we realize there is nothing more satisfying to our hunger. 

One. 

One who would be filled.  One who would be changed.  One life.  One destiny. One eternity. 

One who would touch a village.  One who would be spoken of throughout the generations. 

Is there one on God’s day planner today that he “needs” to purposely touch?  Through you?  Can you see today?  Can you hear him today? Is there one who is empty and hungry in your path today?  One who perhaps by all appearances is of no further value to the team?  One who has been struck out?  

Do you have any living water to give?

Time for one.  Changing the world.  Changing eternity. Taking time to encounter one.  Ah, the offensive ways of our Savior. 

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