Squeaky Springs

Yesterday, I was listening to the song, “I Can’t Even Walk.” I, like Peter, am rather an impulsive and passionate person. By the time the singers dulcet tones extended into the second verse and chorus, I had my arms lifted in praise, my eyes were leaking, and I was singing for all I was worth, forgetting what I was working on at the time, and mindless of the fact that I have apartment neighbors beside and below me.

My response to the song reminds me of Peter’s response in John 21 when he heard the words, “It’s the Lord!” and jumped into the sea of Galilee where he was about 100 yards from shore, and rushed toward Jesus. The great haul of fish the disciples had just caught didn’t matter any more. All that mattered was that the Master, whom Peter had denied, was present and calling to them.

Sometimes I wonder if my response to Jesus’ daily presence with me is as passionate as it could, and should, be. I don’t necessarily mean a physical response like I had yesterday. I mean passionate in terms of gratitude, whether that is manifest in a quiet acceptance of what life dishes out to me, or an exuberant physical expression of the freedom that comes from knowing and living in the Truth that sets us free.

When Jesus spoke to the woman at the well, he described the gift he had for her through God, as a spring, bubbling up from within bringing eternal life. I know it’s a play on words but I think sometimes my springs are squeaky and I am less than the salt and light that Jesus said his followers are to be. Sometimes, I think, because I am so in love with Jesus, my light is a bit of a blinding light, and the salt that comes out of me gets rubbed into the wound of unconfessed sin in an unsavory way.

I love that I am passionate about Jesus. And I love when a song moves me into unexpected, heartfelt worship. What I don’t want to be is a Pharisee. And maybe that is another area where I just have to trust the peace of God to guard my heart.

Prayer

Thank you, Father, for the passionate, impulsive people in your family. Thank you for those who are more inclined to be reserved. Thank you that the differences among your children can make flowers bloom and disciples grow. Help us to be the kind of salt and light in your world, that bring others to know your peace. For your glory, Father, and yours alone. Amen.