A clatter rattles him from sleep, jolts him upright, heart thumping.
Breathless, unrested, he’s gained such meager nap!
The explosion of noise, he realizes right off, was icicles, great stalactites loosed from their grasp on gutter and tumbled hard on roof just past the window.
Nothing worth heart-thumping fright.
well worth a wake-up to warning: those ice tusks grown heavy, sooner or later falling, when full-blown light bears down… Well, if it’s later and they’ve grown enough greater… they. do. damage. they could even kill a person.
God draws. Christ draws. He said, “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (Jhn 12:32 ESV).
His drawing: We were talking about that, in the last post’s comments. One called it irresistible, referencing R. C. Sproul. Others of us realized its pull at our hearts from childhood—yet noted how, in young adulthood, our interest grew cold, and we resisted it!
How can one resist the irresistible? How can one wee mite of a mortal, on a tiny earth, push away Love advances greater than the universe?
Yet it is so.
He draws, summons, pulls us all toward His warm embrace. He’s sovereign, all-powerful. Yet He gives us the option to spurn Him.
And we do. We draw away. Even we who know His love and favor, even His miracles! Our souls chill with indifference, if not disdain.
How? Why? What draws us… away?
Last post quoted Augustine, writing of scholars too enamored of their own intelligence:
In their impious pride they draw away from You and Your light, because these scholars who foresee a future eclipse of the sun long beforehand fail to see their own in the present…
It’s ridiculous, so-limited a man puffing up himself in pride above His Maker, Whose circle of knowledge circumscribes his own so far he can’t see its boundaries! Yet many big-brained (big-ego-ed, really) do it, even after unearthing more evidence of God’s greatness than “lowly” people learn.
I witnessed this, painfully close. My brother learned to worship his brain, and it eclipsed his spirit, possibly right up to death. His widow believes He surrendered, the rest of us hope she’s right…
Pride fed by people’s commendation—for letter grades, check-mark-free papers, and scholarships to prestigious universities (full of people who know much and yet resist)…
I could weep.
I have wept…
But pride can take a different form. One commenter said she resisted the gospel because “I didn’t need saved.” We think we can be good enough our fallen selves. (Just as ridiculous a pride as the above.)
What of me, even now? I know God in relationship. He’s shown me so much about His power, love, and goodness… Yet, just this morning I woke in spiritual lethargy…
A hymn spoke my heart. I sang it: “Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love…”
Honestly, I do know how this happens. Through pride (as mentioned)—and desires, of a fallen, self-centered heart.
James said it:
“Everyone is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed…”
The heart gets iced.
Just a little glazing, you’d hardly notice.
But “then, when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin…”
The ice builds…
“and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death…” (Jas 1:14-15).
Oh, wretched woman that I am, “who will rescue me from this body of death?”
Not myself! (Romans 7:21-25)
“Thanks be to God who gives us the victory!”
But I need to ask for it. Because He gives me this choice.
And so I do.
I must kill all the dead stuff, all the hard icing of the heart, building up weight, growing damage potential like those spears above the roof.
So, I often sing the song…Come Thou fount of every blessing, Tune my heart to sing Thy praise. Streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise… O to grace how great a debtor, daily I’m constrained to be! Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to Thee: Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love. Take my heart, O take and seal it. Seal it for Thy courts above. -Robert Robinson, 1758
Q4U: What draws you… away?