Gratitude

"He cared not for thrones and gold streets at that moment, but for our cuts and bruises, lame feet, and withered limbs."

I CAN WRITE many things, but what is God saying right now? What is on His heart? In my life, I’ve seen two things. God’s desire for an intimate minute-by-minute relationship with us, and the overflow of His love from us to all those around us. We must love Him to the craziest extent and love each other as if we were Jesus, laying down our life for them. These were Jesus’ words. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).”

“There is no greater love than this—that a person lay down their life to save their friends. This is the principle of life—the central principle of the kingdom of God. This love is the Remedy for the infection that is destroying mankind, and the infection is this: Satan’s wicked disease of survival-of-the-fittest, which is preferring self so much that one will kill their friends in order to save themself.” (John 15:13, Remedy)

In 4 weeks, I attended 4 churches at the direction of the Spirit and when the service ended, knew why. There was a message there for me. However, there was another thread that tied them together. Despite differing denominations, each church sang the same song, “Gratitude.” It isn’t only that the song is popular nor well-written nor that it stirs the heart. But in 4 different worship services, led by 4 different congregations, our praises to the King of Kings were the same.

He is what makes us one. Being honest, one church was uber crowded, another more one-on-one with the pastor and the people, the third church has such exuberance in its connection to the community, and the fourth holds a place in history here. They are all different in how they present the gospel, how they relay God’s message, yet when it came to worship, their faces turned upward, what they said was, “So I throw up my hands and praise You again and again. 'Cause all that I have is a Hallelujah, hallelujah, and I know it's not much but I've nothing else fit for a King, except for a heart singing Hallelujah, hallelujah.”

Pare down all the electronics and social media styles, pews verses individual seats, sermon topics, dress requirements, those things that make a church its self, and all we needed to be together in that moment was Jesus. God knows the heart of every believer, and there is not one of us that He won’t fill to overflow. He takes our faults and flaws, our errors in judgment and over-criticisms, our doctrinal issues and sees not where these make us fall short but where He can pour in more of Himself and smooth all those wrinkles out. And worship is the key. He is the key.

Go online and look up that song and you will find it sung by a myriad of people of different church backgrounds. The songwriter encouraged others to do their own thing with it, when it was released, and then stood in the midst of industry greats and listened as their hands lifted, in unison, they sang its words. It didn’t matter who they were, Baptist, Pentecostal, twenty-something, over sixty, they worshipped Jesus.

This isn’t about a song but the heart in the song that has changed people. Jesus changes people. In the gospels we see all ethnic backgrounds, both Gentile and Jew. The greatest faith in all of Israel came from a Roman soldier. The greatest voice for Christ was once a Pharisee who murdered Christians. The spokesman at Pentecost, his lungs full of the Spirit of God, was a former fisherman who wept at Jesus’ feet. And I sit here a “modern woman” with no connection to those men. Only Jesus, who makes us His.

The God of heaven and earth, who’d done such great and marvelous things, stooped to our level and raised us up to His. He cared not for thrones and gold streets at that moment, but for our cuts and bruises, lame feet and withered limbs. He looked at our heart, at the tender places scarred by time and memories, and gave us the future. He did this for me, and there, in the midst of the pain, confusion swirling around me, what I knew was Jesus. This song was Jesus. This passage was Him speaking to me. Those words I’d written, His Spirit within me. And day-by-day, He led me out of the darkness into His glorious light.

I found shortcomings in the church, huge gaps where ministry care is needed. My personal struggle placed me where they were obvious. And missing. What held me together at times was Jesus. He did for me what I didn’t know to ask for. Out of His mercy, He orchestrated my freedom, orchestrates it still, and I can’t begin to worship Him enough. But my worship began when I couldn’t see straight. It began in the dark place, and God wasn’t high-and-mighty and too good for me, but with me. He was Emmanuel, not as a helpless baby, although there is a beautiful story there, but as the Suffering Servant who’d carried a cross, His back torn to ribbons, who’d sat beneath the withering scorn of those He died to save, and no one helped Him, no one held Him up beneath the weight of it, but the Spirit of God.

He holds us together. He is the Head of the church, the fullness of Him who fills everything. And whether we are knees or elbows, living stones placed one upon another, or people “black and yellow, red and white,” all beloved in His sight, without His life in us, we are chaos. Chaos has a scientific definition. Chaos theory is where the fluttering wings of a butterfly affect a tornado hundreds of miles away. One small event makes for a much larger one. How much this speaks to the body of Christ, which is the church. We try to deny it. One man’s mistakes in the pulpit become finger pointing instead of us seeking heaven. We should be as willing to bridge the gap and fill in the holes with the goodness of God. We should be the first to worship and, there in the presence of Him who died for us, let Him heal the broken places.

In us individually. In us corporately. For it is our gratitude for who He is that makes of the walls between us an altar, the blood shed upon it, that of the Savior, Jesus, who before He died, facing the cross, gave us His peace, having already overcome the entire world. Having received it, what will we do with it? I suggest we make of it a covering, sewn by the hands of churches, speaking one thing in unison. HALLELUJAH.

“At the center of all this, Christ rules the church. The church, you see, is not peripheral to the world; the world is peripheral to the church. The church is Christ’s body, in which he speaks and acts, by which he fills everything with his presence.” (Ephesians 1:22-23 MSG)

Watch “Gratitude” by Brandon Lake.
https://youtu.be/vA83MufOCoA?si=1PqPUBmyU_RvzO4S

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay


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Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com