This past week, I received a lot of feedback on the last Pebbles about forgiveness.  I shared what I had to go through myself.  Some things had accumulated and built up.  Thoughts multiplied, grew, and almost took on a whole life of their own.  I know the teachings about forgiveness.  Knowledge is nothing and helps nothing if it doesn’t take root in your soul. Each person must choose for knowledge to become wisdom.  Knowledge is dead, just letters on paper that mean nothing, until you invite the Holy Spirit and allow Him to change your heart.

Wounds are not called a “root” of bitterness for nothing.  A root finds fertile ground—a heart that bleeds, and tears of pain water it with fragile emotion that revels in the victim status of everyone who is so mean, so unjust, and so evil.  The wounds, blood, and tears come uninvited, like an intruder and parasitic plant in the garden of my heart, where the Tree of Life grows.  The intruder twists and winds where it’s not welcome, but before you know it, your soul wound is infected, pumping out nauseating, rotting evil into your thought life.

“My troubled thoughts prompt me to answer because I am greatly disturbed. I hear a rebuke that dishonors me, and my understanding inspires me to reply.” (Job 20:2-3)

The Psalmists-poets understood life.  So often, one reads soul-language there, where one can again and again bow and surrender before the powerful relevance and quiet healing of the Word of God.

A few weeks ago, I delved into Psalm 25 and noticed how often the poet says: Teach me, make Your will known to me, instruct me, let Your truth guide me, show me the way, teach me the path, reveal the covenant.

It became a message, a Rhema-word, a theme, and I sat bolt upright.  I read it again, marked the verses, wrote them in my journal, convinced that God wanted to teach me something and that my ears needed to be open.  I prayed for anointed ears and read on.

In a wonderful way I was led to Psalm 16, which means so much to me that I began memorizing it.  Certain words stood out, became bold, black letters in my mind, and took on deep meaning.  I read about the idols in the land and was once again thankful that I know the Lord until I became aware of the idols in my own heart where I worship at the altar of soul wounds with blood sacrifices of others’ words and deeds, other people’s sins, perhaps from the idolatrous offerings of their own souls.  I store them all safely, completing the vicious cycle—exactly what Satan wants, to paralyze me and steal my strength.

I recoiled in disgust.

“Those who run after other gods will suffer more and more. I will not pour out libations of blood to such gods or take up their names on my lips.” (Psalm 16:4)

Goodness, what a nightmare!

The pain is real.  I can’t deny it.  Suddenly, I “see” the metaphor.  My own heart is a bloody mess of angry words, vengeful isolation, “altars” of cut (hewn) stone (Exodus 20:25) where I defile the altar of God with my “tools” of popular psychology.  I build my altar of worship where I offer my heart to God in my own way, with all the conditions I put forward in the name of self-preservation.  I will set boundaries, I will separate myself, I will not expose myself, I will… I will…

The Holy Spirit is working.  He convicts of sin, righteousness, and judgment (John 16:8).  He works in perfect love, and I am not destroyed before the fire of God that “consumes” my soul (Hebrews 12:29) and begins to burn it clean.

I shed tears and plead for forgiveness on my face.  I “settle the matter” (Isaiah 1:18) and stand up with gold, white clothes, and salve for my eyes (Revelation 3:18). I went to the “shop” of the Merchant and followed His counsel.

“I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.”

Everything looks different.  The wound is healed.  I can lift my head and look the world in the eye—literally.  My shame, my nakedness of guilt is covered.

But that’s not all.  There are consequences to obedience.

“You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory.” (Psalm 73:24)

“You will guide me with your counsel, and afterward receive me to glory.” (KJV)

Do we read carelessly?  What a wonderful God we serve!  He ministers to us with counsel – gently and lovingly.  He leads us to the place where we learn, and then comes the glory.  We cannot ignore a single word of the Word.

We must go through the process AND come out the other side to the glory—the full weight of God’s character taking root and growing in worship and gratitude.  The Message puts it this way:

“You wisely and tenderly lead me, and then you bless me.”

The process isn’t complete before the “and then”.  What can we expect?

Glory—a wondrous word—so full and rich in meaning that it can only be expressed with a whole array of words.  Glory points to weightiness, that which is substantial or heavy.  It includes glory, honour, splendour, power, wealth, authority, magnificence, fame, dignity, riches, and excellence. 

In the New Testament the Greek word for glory is doxa.

Originally, an opinion or estimation in which one is held.  Then the word came to denote the reputation, good standing, and esteem given to a person.  It progressed to honor or glory given to peoples, nations, and individuals.  The NT doxa becomes splendour, radiance, and majesty centered in Jesus.  Here doxa is the majestic, absolute perfection residing in Christ and evidenced by the miracles He performed.

Is there anything worth it to hold on to that might block or hinder the flow of miracles in your life?

Clean up your heart and receive the indescribable crown of glory that awaits the child of God who listens, who inclines his ear, hears the voice of God and sits at the feet of the Merchant of Revelation. 

The glory is the fullness of the character and person of Jesus Christ.  We cannot live without this manifestation of Jesus in every aspect of our existence.