small days

Some days I do not live big. I do not think we are condemned by such days, but that we miss out with each passing of one. There is no need cram minutes with acts and appearances of worthy sacrifice, but there is the need to obey. There is a great blessing to be found in the long days beside the reliable waters that bed in the meadows of the Good Shephard. We only find ourselves in that heavenly pasture when we have followed Jesus there with ALL our heart and soul and mind and strength. I am sure that we all know what it is like to lose a day to dull thinking or lack of ambition. These are true losses, and I was at such a loss this afternoon. Though I sang with a brother for his encouragement, I did not engage. It was only like a time of practice; worship cannot be practiced, it must be done. When I returned home I was tired and didn't love well those around me. I wasn't mean, I was just "there." God is coming back for those that "long for His appearing," and I feel a gross unpreparedness in these hours lost in not longing. May we long. I want a stronger heart. O the joy that we forfeit. It is difficult to write and let the words fall without the sound of blame falling on me or another. It is not a matter of blame, but a matter of genuine loss. It is the difference between a prodigal son wasting a relationship with the Father and and the man "who happily, sold all his possessions to gain the greatest treasure of all" (Matthew 13:44). I guess the plainest way to say it is that I really love Jesus. I love Him. And it is hard to swallow the fact that I missed out on an enjoyable afternoon. It is not Him who scolds me, but me who scolds me. Tomorrow I want to join the clouded sky of witnesses in the brave-hearted cry, "For me, to live is Christ..."