The Gospel is my Burden
“I have taken the Levites from among the Israelites in place of the first male offspring of every Israelite woman. The Levites are mine, for all the firstborn are mine. When I struck down all the firstborn in Egypt, I set apart for myself every firstborn in Israel, whether human or animal. They are to be mine. I am the LORD.”
Numbers 3:12–13
It’s been a while since I wrote anything here, and like all things in my life — my pen has been sacrificed to only speak of Christ and the gospel of which I have become a slave to.
Lately, I’ve been reading the book of Numbers and when I say I get it? I really do. I find myself numbered in the pages of this lettered law.
I am Moses in despair, asking God what I have done to deserve my calling. I am Aaron’s sons sentenced to a life of servitude. Forever offering fire, forever satisfied with God as my portion. I am Caleb, strong and courageous that the Lord who has called me will deliver me from my fears. I am Joshua content dwelling in the tabernacle where God dwells.
My story is Eleazar’s; To wake up one day, only to be told your father would be gathered unto his people. That he would die on a mountain and the mantle of his priesthood would be placed on you.
You feel awe that you would get to feel and experience the presence of God and on the other hand, you feel anxiety for fear of not meeting up to expectations laid down by your Father before you.
Whither shall I go from thy spirit? Or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: If I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, And thy right hand shall hold me.
Psalms 139:7–10
He is the pivot of my entire existence
I often think back to my early years. At 6, I remember climbing on the roof of my Father’s white Passat car, screaming;
Praise the Lord, Jesus is Lord. Come to Jesus.
I remember my sister being the only audience I had — clapping and saying Amen.
My life has always been surrounded by a picture of him, although blurry, he has been at the centre.
I was 12 when I realized God could save.
The lights were out in our quiet dorm. It was about several hours past 9pm. My little heart however, was crippled with fear, guilt and shame. I remember how desperate for redemption I felt. Oddly when I think about it, I realize I have never felt so lost like that day. A cold fear of hopelessness, a stark realization that I was a sinner. My little body shook with sobs as my Soul cried out the name of my Parents’ God. I cried out remembering that I could call on him too. Remembering that my parents led me to him daily, 5am in the morning and 8pm at night.
“God, if you could save me from this. I will serve you for the rest of my life”
I made that vow and went to bed. My hair did not change, my skin did not somehow have an ethereal glow in the morning, my nails did not grow longer, my countenance was not transfigured in any way.
But God had heard my little vow.
From henceforth let no man trouble me: for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.
Galatians 6:17
One thing has remained true, one thing is clear for me — I’m marked for the gospel. Run as I might, it is a yoke I must bear. I bear the marks of one who must remain tethered to the cross. I have no life except Jesus crucified. I have no bread except the broken body of my Saviour. I have no wine except the blood that paid for my crime. I have no essence, no power to be strong, except the Grace of God revealed in me
Some days, I am taken aback by how people perceive me. Rigid, Religious, Conservative. I have been called all those things and I will be called worse. For me it is a burden I am willing to bear, because I have seen his face and my greatest desire is to see his face again. To be reunited with him.
So I will continue to pivot in only one direction, which is to be a worthy and faithful servant.
And if you tear me apart from limb to limb. If my heart is bruised a million times, and a thousand sorrows pierce my bones, what will always remain is Jesus. He is my Joy. The one I speak of without a stutter. He rolls off my tongue like a river, I could adulate him for eternity.
He is the most beautiful. The most glorious. I tell you the truth — when he is referenced as incomparable it is not just a saying. If you see him, you will look for everything you know to describe him and find that all things pale in comparison. The only word is indescribable
I must be cautious not to lose sight of him. Careful to remain,
I must be careful in all things, such things as Love…
For my love is private but a hurricane. I feel too deeply, my love is too confident. Too proud, as though I could love enough for two and this is why I protect it. My love is sacred. A few times I have given it away to people it did not belong to and paid dearly for it. I realize that I must find balance in my spirit because sometimes I lose my head when I should stand and wait. I forget that even though I have the Holy Spirit, the workings of my flesh are still folly. I must heed to the quiet voice of patience, I must heed to Wisdom.
And Wisdom tells me the only burden I am permitted to carry is the gospel
You would think, that after all this time I would realize whose hands I should place my cares. You would think I would be more knowledgeable.
The truth is, I have an infirmity. I am helpless and I have no strength of my own. I do not know what is good for me beyond him. My life is one of dependency. I go to the River of life himself, and ask for refreshing. In breathing, I must breathe him. In being, I must walk in his pace. For knowledge, to know how high to jump or how low to abase, I must seek him.
So in all my dealings, I have decided to pick the battle I can win, which is victory on the Lord’s side. I have chosen to only carry the burden that belongs to me. The yoke easy to bear, which is Christ and Christ crucified.
Until another tale.
Your Sister
- Adonai’s Poet
