“To savor the simple privilege that every day I have a sunrise to bathe in, a storehouse of opportunities to romp through, the thick wrap of relationships to keep me warm, a God who meticulously tends to every detail round about me, and it all costs me not a dime. What madness would keep me from being eternally thankful for all that?”
EZEKIEL 32-33
JOURNAL
Reading this morning I was struck again by the depth of Scripture. I forget how truly alive it is. I forget how holy it becomes when I give it space. When I slow down and open it with a willing heart, something happens in me that I cannot fully explain. There is a moment… almost like a doorway forming in my mind… where the noise of the world goes quiet and something sacred begins to rise. Scripture becomes a place where I can breathe, and in that breath I find God waiting for me.
It is not just words on a page. It is not some ancient text meant to guilt me into better behavior. I realize that the heaviness I sometimes feel when I approach Scripture is not coming from God. It is coming from the parts of me that still expect judgment, the parts of me that forget the point of grace. When I actually read with an open mind and an honest heart, the Word of God opens a kind of inner room, a sanctuary that exists inside my own thoughts. It becomes a portal where I can connect with God, understand Him more clearly, and hear Him speak in ways that bring peace and joy to my soul.
Scripture is not a killjoy. It is communion. It is conversation. It is the meeting place between my spirit and the Spirit of God. When I really allow myself to enter that space, I feel something like the warmth of sunlight forming on the inside of me. I feel the truth of Craig Lounsbrough’s words, that I have a sunrise to bathe in, opportunities to walk in, relationships to protect me, and a God who tends every detail of my life. And all of it is free. What madness would keep me from gratitude when this is the truth.
Ezekiel’s words remind me that hearing the Word and practicing the Word are two very different things. People can sit, listen, nod, even admire the beauty of the message, but never let it shape them. Scripture becomes just another sound in the room when I refuse to step through that inner doorway. But when I actually let the Word live inside me, when I participate in it, when I trust it, it becomes transformative.
Peter says we are born again through the living and enduring Word of God. Born again means more than saved. Born again means awakened. It means that every time I read Scripture with a surrendered heart, something new comes alive in me. The Word of God clears space in my mind where truth can settle and where love can grow. It makes room for empathy, for compassion, for humility. It reminds me that everything in this world is temporary, yet everything of God is eternal. The grass withers, the flowers fall, but the Word endures forever, and that eternal Word has the power to reshape who I am from the inside out.
I am learning that church is not a building and it is not confined to a steeple or stained glass. Church is the living presence of God moving in ordinary life. Church happens when I pause and give thanks. Church happens when I see the blessings of this moment and breathe them in. Church happens when I choose love over fear, service over self, trust over control. Church happens in the quiet places in my home, in conversations with people I care about, in moments where I open Scripture and feel that portal open again.
Thank you Father for another day, a day filled with countless blessings, a day full of opportunities to be a vessel of your love. Thank you for giving me a mind that can listen and a heart that can respond. Thank you for the doorway your Word opens in me, the holy space where I can meet you and hear you.
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