I was recently given a waterproof Bible for my birthday. I love it! It has pages that are made of a flimsy plastic, making it able to shed water instead of absorb it. Its cover is made out of a waterproof synthetic leather. It is so fun to take it to places that had previously been "no book zones" just because they are wet places.

For example, I love showering with my new waterproof Bible. I usually do my best thinking in the shower (don't you?), and so spending time in the Word of God in the shower has been very eye opening. With my mind so clear and with my thinking so sharp in the sanctuary of my shower, God has been revealing some pretty awesome things to me lately.

The other day, I was reading my waterproof Bible in the shower, and I was spending time in Hebrews 11 (I'm sure those faith heroes would have loved to read a Bible in a shower...hehe). While there, a passage in particular hit me. Hebrews 11:13 says about the people in the Old Testament who had great faith,

"These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth."

Translation: the lifespan of their faith was lot longer then the span of their lives. Their faith lived longer than they did. Not even death could shake their faith in the coming Messiah.

So God began to ask me about my faith. How long is the lifespan of my faith? Will my faith outlive me? There isn't necessarily a way to answer this question other than proving it. There isn't really a good way to know other than living everyday with a faith that is stronger than my fears, quenches my doubts, emboldens my life, and encourages others until I take my last breath. I want to live my life with a faith that will outlast me.

So what about you? What is the lifespan of your faith? Is God more secure to you than your stuff? Could you leave everything you have in order to follow God's call on your life?

With the color palette of my imagination
I expressively begin to paint
Four walls
Four cold walls.
There are no lights on, so everything is dark.
No light is present but that which creeps through
One solitary window in the corner.
Enough light is present to make out the vague forms
Of a few objects in the room.

Four walls.
Four cold walls.
Four cold, empty walls.
Four cold, empty, looming walls.
They remind me how lonely the room is.
They remind me how lonely the figure in the middle is.

He is curled up on the floor,
Gripped by fear,
Thrashed by his own selfishness,
Sucked of life by depression.
He is merely a skeleton of what he used to be.
The stretched skin draped across his ribs
Reveal how thin he has been pulled
By the demands of an image;
An unrealistic image he daily projects upon himself.

This scraggly silhouette raises his shamed head.
He casts his weary gaze to
The corner of the darkened room:
The corner with the only shed of light.
He makes out a small box
Occupying the only illuminated piece of the floor.

During the next few hours,
He slowly makes his way across the floor
To reach the box.
Upon his arrival, he stares at its golden luster.
Until now, he knew nothing of its incredible worth.
This, this golden box could afford him anything.
Everything.
Healing.
Freedom.
Anything he ever wanted to buy.
This box,
His faithful companion in this miserable room
Was the best thing that ever happened to him.
He had all he needed....

Now if only he could find a way out

So he could experience its worth...

 

 

Jesus, even when the lights are turned off,

You are just as shiny.

Even though nothing in the room reflects you,

You are just as brilliant.

 

Even when it's cold in this room,

You are just as valuable.

No shred of heat could compare

To your infinite worth.

 

Even when the walls are caving in,

Even though I am terrified,

Even in the midst of my brokenness,

You are just as safe.

 

 "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God." Psalm 43:5