Life on the Altar

Romans 12:1 says, “Brothers and sisters, I plead with you to give your bodies to God because of all he has done for you. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice—the kind he will find acceptable. This is truly the way to worship him.”

If I’m honest, I want that kind of life. I want to be a living sacrifice. I want to stay on the altar and yield to the work of holiness when the fire falls, when life presses in, and when the refining hurts. But the truth is… fire burns. The trials and testing that forge us into His image? They hurt. And when the refining process gets uncomfortable, my flesh wants to jump right off that altar.

So how do we stay there? How do we cultivate a lifestyle of worship that isn’t just for Sunday mornings but can withstand a busy Tuesday, or a devastating season of loss?

I believe the answer is this: We stay on the altar through thanksgiving.

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Impossible to Stop

Several years ago, I encountered the love of God while sitting in a closet.

I was feeling broken and defeated after years of trying (and failing) to pull myself together. I had been avoiding God for years, certain He wouldn’t want to talk to me anyways. But that day, curled up in my closet, I tentatively asked if it was possible for Him to still love me, “even though…”

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Doubting My Salvation

My dad baptized me when I was a child, but I spent years doubting my salvation and wondering if it had worked. I would ask adults in my life if I was going to Heaven, and they always gave me the same response: I can’t answer that for you. As someone who likes black and white answers, I hated that nobody could assure me I was saved.

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Don’t Be Their Hometown

Then Jesus told them, “A prophet is honored everywhere except in his own hometown and among his own family.” — Matthew‬ ‭13:57‬

These were the words Jesus spoke while in his own hometown. The crowd was amazed by what he had been teaching, but they soon became distracted by his past and the things they knew about him: “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?”

They missed out on the miracles and presence of Jesus because they couldn’t let go of who they thought He was. They “bore witness and marveled” at the empowering presence of God on Him, but then they reduced him back to the familiar and lost out on the eternal.

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The Harvest is Promised

In a season full of flooding, snowing, and ice storms (oh my!), sicknesses, fighting with insurance, losing power, remote learning, rebuilding, relocating, grieving, mothering two kiddos whose worlds were turned upside down, walking through trauma with flood victims while still processing our own, and working full time… I find myself a bit weary.

And by “a bit weary,” I mean the bone-tired, falling-asleep-while-standing kind of weary.

Some days, I’m ready to throw in the towel. Give up the good fight. Raise the white flag. Call it quits and go hibernate until summer finally arrives.

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