Wednesday, September 9, 2009

re-post sanctification

Sanctification make holy; set apart as sacred; purify or free from sin: Sanctify your hearts.

Sanctification is H A R D for me. "Holiness unto the Lord" is etched into my huge mirror in my bathroom, but unfortunately that doesn't make me holy. I'd say I'm a good person. I don't murder or steal. I help those I can. But I really don't think that has anything to do with sanctification. To me, quite simply, sanctification is getting rid of the parts of me that look NOTHING like Him. And I know I always use animal examples but this one is too good to not include. . . . . .

The other night I agreed to help one of my friends bathe her cat (don't ask me how people talk me into this stuff). My friend has a huge cat with GOBS of fur. . . oh my word. And the poor cat was COVERED in knots and tangles and other unmentionable stuff. Now I picked up the cat and it purred and rubbed it's head on me and rolled over like it couldn't be happier. And it acted this way right up until I put her in the water. Heaven knows that cat went balistic. Hissing scratching biting and my friend who was so willing to help when the cat was sweet starts crying because her cat is upset. I said (as nice as I could), "Elizabeth seriously help me hold her!" She said, "I can't I don't like it that she's not happy." Honestly, I'd have been the same way if it was my animals, but it wasn't and I was ready to kill the cat and her! Finally she gets it together enough to hold a foot (thanks a million Liz!) and "we" manage to get the cat bathed. Soaking wet and covered in scratches, laughing, we collapse on the floor and here comes the crazy cat purring and loving like nothing ever happened. . . . . . .

And God said to me plain as day, Look Familiar? OUCH!!!!!!!! Oh, but He's so right. I'll kneel by my bed at night and say, "Make me like you Lord. Whatever it takes I want to be just like you. Mold me into your image. Create in me a clean heart. Remove everything from me that doesn't look like you." BUT, BUT, BUT when the time comes to actually do anything about the parts of me that don't look like him, I pitch a holy fit. "I'm willing, tie me to the alter," but once the fire comes you can hear my soul scream ,"I don't like it. It hurts. HELP ME!!!"

And I have no biblical basis for this, but in my own little world I like to think that when the Father sends the fire to make me more like Him, Jesus has a tear in his eye. And the Father tells the Son, "Help me hold her down-this is for her own good." And he can't. He looks up at his Abba Father and says, "I can't. I don't like it when she's not happy."

Thank you Jesus for walking where we walk. You faced betrayal, fear, anxiety, stress and death. You didn't like it, but when the cup was not passed from you and you had to drink from it, you accepted the will of your Father who sent you. Jesus, you know in my heart, at the very core of who I am, more than anything in the whole world I want to be like You. I know where I'd be without you and I'll never forget what you've done for me. I love you more than I'll ever know how to say. Amen

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