Closer Today Than Yesterday: The Empty Way

Monday, December 22, 2008

The Empty Way

This morning my devotional led me to;

1 Peter 1:18 (NIV)

¹⁸For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, ^[1]

^[1] The Holy Bible : New International Version. electronic ed. Grand Rapids : Zondervan, 1996, c1984

In studying this passage, the one, clear point that comes to my mind is a statement about God's economy. The most valuable 'things' in this world no matter their monetary worth are valueless in the matter of redemption. We are reminded that all things of this world, no matter how permanent we may perceive them to be are perishable. Despite what advertising executives would have you believe, diamonds are not forever.

And if these things which are so highly prized in our lives are worth nothing in the face of redemption, how much more valuable must that be? The currency which secured our salvation must be valuable in deed. By contrast, it must also be enduring, permanent, eternal.

In the face of that concept, God reminds me in this passage of the life from which I have been rescued; the 'empty way of life.' The life I led, without Christ, was one of pursuit of worthless things. No matter whether it was money, power or prestige, ever-niced houses, ever-better cars all that was, and is, empty. It has no meaning in the continuum of eternity. Comparatively, it is mere trash that appeals only to those who lust for it.

If my salvation from the 'empty way' was paid with so high a price, as it was, then how valuable must the 'full way of life' be? Mustn't it be priceless? Mustn't it be incalculably valuable? Yet God takes us (garbage collectors) and brings us into that life. How rich He must be and how rich we are to be in relationship with Him who loves us to such an extreme.

As for the 'empty way' I still hear the echoes of that time in my life. It's like a man shouting into a barrel. All you can hear is the deafening sound of your own voice in the emptiness. Praise God for delivering us all from such an existence.

Shalom,

Carl

1 comment:

Bill said...: Your words from this 12/22 post ... "And if these things which are so highly prized in our lives are worth nothing in the face of redemption, how much more valuable must that be? The currency which secured our salvation must be valuable in deed. By contrast, it must also be enduring, permanent, eternal."

To draft a commercial in the tradition of the Mastercard ads, ... We might say, ... "Diamonds ... man's best friend ... Gold ... man's best currency ... Christ's blood in payment for our salvation ... PRICELESS!!!"

Great truth to meditate upon as the year 2008 closes out and we move into the New Year ... <'BB><; December 24, 2008 at 5:15 AM

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So I Stand Near The Gate

I read the below poem at a critical point in my life and it's message resonated with me. My ministry, "Near The Gate" was named in homage to this poem. When reading this poem, feel free to substitute the word 'gate' for the word 'door' and you'll have a little glimpse inside my head.

SO I STAY NEAR THE DOOR

By the Reverend Canon Samuel Moor Shoemaker, Jr., D.D., S.T.D.

I stay near the door.
I neither go too far in, nor stay too far out,
The door is the most important door in the world–
It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There’s no use my going way inside, and staying there,
When so many are still outside, and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where a door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it - - -
So I stay near the door.
The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for men to find that door–the door to God.
The most important thing any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands,
And put it on the latch–the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man’s own touch.
Men die outside that door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter–
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live, on the other side of it–because they have found it.
Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him - - -
So I stay near the door.
Go in, great saints, go all the way in–
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics–
It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, or sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms,
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in,
Sometimes venture a little farther;
But my place seems closer to the opening - - -
So I stay near the door.
There is another reason why I stay there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them;
For God is so very great, and asks all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia.
And want to get out. "Let me out!" they cry.
And the people way inside only terrify them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled
For the old life, they have seen too much;
Once taste God, and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside.
The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving–preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door,
But would like to run away. So for them too,
I stay near the door.
I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not yet even found the door,
Or the people who want to run away again from God.
You can go in too deeply, and stay too long,
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there,
But not so far from men as not to hear them,
And remember they are there, too.
Where? Outside the door–
Thousands of them, millions of them.
But–more important for me–
One of them, two of them, ten of them,
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
For those I shall stay by the door and wait
For those who seek it.
"I had rather be a door-keeper . . . "
So I stay near the door

Closer Today Than Yesterday

Monday, December 22, 2008

The Empty Way

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The Empty Way

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