Tabernacle

6:30 PM, for the past two weeks, I have assumed the similar spot behind the crowd of young teenagers, all tired, dirty, substituting showers with body spray. A small prayer, a series of familiar clichéd songs, and an entertaining sermon designed to invoke a response fills the next two hours. The lights dim and the final prayer is uttered, the front is flooded with young men and women determined to be better, to live for what is greater, ultimately, hoping not to fail. I smile when I see the authenticity of each person's action, I see each one grit their teeth and the determination in their eyes: "this time I can do it!" And the failing process has already begun...

I will be clean, I will not fall, I will be stronger this time, I refuse to let death separate me from life, I will go to the next level. These are the thoughts that possessed me as a young person in this same place, these are the thoughts that still plague me, them, today. A determination to be amongst the spiritually elite and feel as though I belong. This is the place where I allow Him to work in me through repentance and as I walk away from the altar of my shame, I leave Him there with it, focused on living in perfection so that I can remain in the delight of His presence. And thus repentance becomes the peak of my journey, never moving beyond into a mover of the kingdom, a shaper of history.

It is a flawed cycle of allowing Him to work then attempting to walk the road of independence; forgetting the truth that it is His kindness that drew me. What if I could disregard the reckless determination to be perfection so that perfection would accept me? What if I realized I do not need to do anything? What if I would just let Him change me? What if I knew He loved me for who I am, not who I should be?

What if I forgot to be sovereign?

What if I remembered Him?