My friend, Tricia, recently told me about a beautifully inspiring blog, which you should check out.  As I began reading it, I was inspired to start a journal for things I’m grateful for.  The author, Ann Voskamp, talks about “1,000 Gifts” as a discipline in gratitude.  So, the other day I bought a fun, bright pink leather journal with rainbow colored pages to begin my more deliberate practice of giving thanks.  In only a couple of days of writing and looking at the things I have to be thankful for, I am sensing a change of perspective and new eyes to see with thanks.  I’m going to keep writing until I get to 1,000, and then beyond. 

It is good and pleasant to give thanks.

You know, this is a very often quoted passage of Scripture.  But I think we’ve often missed the entire point.  We sort of fill in whatever “it” is that we want to ask for, and we interpret the passage to mean that if we ask and really seek, and even knock on heaven’s door, then we will get “it.” 

A few years back, while going through a Sonship Bible study, I was challenged to look at this a bit differently.  Particularly in the Luke 11 passage, it becomes clear that Jesus was talking about asking and seeking and knocking for the Holy Spirit.  (9) “So I say to you:  Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. . . “  (13)“If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask.” 

Now, to be clear, I’m a pilgrim who believes we receive all of the Holy Spirit the moment we place our trust in Christ, that he seals us with his Spirit, and we become complete in him at that time.  However, our experience of learning to live in reliance on that blessed Spirit is another thing entirely.

I believe Jesus was actually encouraging us to learn to live lives dependent on the Holy Spirit he promised, rather than telling us to pray for anything we want and he’ll give it to us.  Jesus later told his disciples not to be sad, that he would “not leave them as orphans” but that he would “come to them.”  He kept that promise in the coming of the Spirit of God at Pentacost.

So, with this in mind, I find hope and encouragement in my life, particularly when I come upon a hard place.  What is it that God promises me here?  What is it he is trying to give me, but I won’t even ask for it until I become desperate enough?  Himself.  His Spirit.  More actual experience of living in vital, close relationship with the Spirit of Christ.

It looks like this in my life:  When things are going okay, I might remember to ask.  “God, help me today.”  As things get a bit tougher, maybe I’ll even seek him for a bit more, as my hunger and thirst dictate.  But, when I’m really desperate, I’ll begin to knock.  “Give me yourself, more of your grace, your Spirit’s presence and help, or I will die here.”  You know, on your face, gut-wrenching kind of stuff.

So, he has given all of his followers himself in the form of the Holy Spirit, but he reserves the deepest experience of himself for those who allow life to drive them to a “knocking” place.  And isn’t that just like his upside-down kingdom?  He was always saying things like that.  The first will be last.  If you lose your life, you’ll find it.  The foolish things of the world are to shame the wise.

Think about it.  Read Luke 11:1-13.  And I dare you to try it.  Try asking for more of his Spirit.  When life heats up, seek for a bit more of Him.  And when you’re realizing how futile your world is apart from Him, go ahead and knock on heaven’s door for God to pour out his Spirit on you, to flood and fill and invade you.  And as always, it’s not about praying “just right” or “hard enough”, but rather about God’s lavish grace he longs to pour out on us in the form of his Spirit.  Happy knocking!

I am tempted all the time to look around at the church in our day and lose hope.  I mean, you look in one direction and you see an irrelevant group of moralists telling the rest of the world to shape up or they’re going to hell.  You look in another direction and see false teachings and additions to Scripture.  Look away again, only to find controlling leadership and powerless religion.  Without a doubt, the American church is sick, very sick.   And while I know God is not wringing his hands with fret over the situation, I do not doubt that his heart breaks with longing over his people to know his healing power.

“I will heal their waywardness and love them freely.”

“If my people will humble themselves and pray and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.”

The local church I have long been a part of is too quick to point out the sin of “others out there”  or to prescribe ways to keep our sin nature under control.  But where is the raw honesty that admits we are the wicked ones who need healing?  Where is the brokenness over our own need, whether that is the lust for power and control or our lack of love, or obvious sins of the flesh?

What I see in this passage is an assumption that the wicked ways are ours, that we spend less time pointing out sin in others, even those under our care, and more time going to our real Saviour with our own wickedness.

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick.”

And in my book that is good news, really good news.  Because God is showing me continually that I am sick, that my ways need healing, and that he is the doctor, a real one, who really wants to heal.  Me.  Us.  His church.