Today I stood in front of 271 people and poured out my heart. I was preaching.
I prepare diligently, laying out ideas and messing with how they flow, unpacking scripture and polishing sentences, designing handouts and hammering out application points.
I’m creative, so most messages reflect that by employing some kind of novel technique, a fresh way of looking at an old idea, a unique angle on a familiar concept that, held just right under the light of God’s Spirit, catches his glory in a surprising way.
I rarely wing it. I like to be prepared. But this past month, my most profound preparation is settling my dependence on Jesus. I used to relish feeling confident. Now any sense of confidence in anything but God’s ability to do something scares me. I don’t just want to depend on him; I want to feel dependent on him. I want to know, from the tips of my wiggling toes to the mussed up peak of my feauhawk that without him I can do nothing.
Cause the moment I think I can do it, it’s all me up there. And as I said this morning, human effort can accomplish no more than trying to stack a million marbles to reach the sky. Marbles are cool and all, but they don’t stack up.
I want to lose my marbles. I don’t want to stack chaff. I want the kernels, the real stuff, the harvest. I want to have “it” as Craig Groeschel puts it, that special working of the Holy Spirit that pulls of spiritual fruit, real fruit, lasting fruit.
Jesus, I sense that you’re pleased with this. I also sense that we’re just getting started.