I’m thinking a lot about natural things lately: the sun, the sky, herbs, making sprouted grain bread, drinking natural goat’s milk. But this morning as I worked the soaked grain bread with the plastic spatula I was reminded of what Scripture says.
For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.
(Romans 8:13 KJV)
For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit. For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.
(Romans 8:5-6 KJV)
If I live naturally, eat naturally, breathe naturally, and wear 100% all-natural cotton, it doesn’t make one bit of difference. I’m going to die. If we live according to the natural, and sin according to the natural, we die according to the natural.
It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. There is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body.
(1 Corinthians 15:44 KJV)
To be natural to be limited to our senses, to this realm, and to this earth. We don’t have spiritual understanding or spiritual awareness. According to what we see and think, we act. The flesh of a man consists of his physical flesh and his soul: his mind, will, and emotions.
But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.
(1 Corinthians 2:14 KJV)
No matter how natural we are, we cannot avoid death, and we cannot avoid sin. Sin is natural to us, because we were born into it. Is there something pure and undefiled about creation, something tranquil and florescent? No. Creation was created in glory. Now Creation is subject to futility.
For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.
(Romans 8:22 KJV)
If we have ears to hear and eyes to see, we would see that everything of the flesh has a death sentence of it. If we have ears to hear, we would hear the groans and wailings of creation, its restlessness, its longing, to be restored and to see the sons of God in glory.
The value of worldly and earthly things is hyper-inflated. Like a giant bubble, it is colorful, attractive, sailing happily and smoothly. One prick is all it takes for the world’s values, systems, programs, concepts, accomplishments, to drop as a little soapy splat on the infinite pavements of eternity. It will be no more.
I don’t just want to be a natural girl, or grow into a natural living woman, eco, green, organic and all-natural. I want to be a spiritual being. I want to have eternal life. I want a spiritual, eternal body. I want to have the eyes of the Spirit, to have discernment and not divination. I want to be a work of God’s hands, built according to His pattern, not according to self. I want to hear the voice of God that thunders, and deep within me stirs me to rise up, take up my cross, and follow Him, He being the sole object and focus of all my being.
We can be as natural as we like, but unless we grasp, lay hold up, and root ourselves into that which is of God and of the Spirit, when we die, it will be as the natural grass of the field that naturally fades away. Here today and gone tomorrow.
We won’t make a dent on destiny. We won’t affect eternity. We will just live happy, and die happy, that’s the end. How sad, if all we live for is this life. Futile. Vanity. Worthless. Passing.
But if we live for the kingdom, the eternal Kingdom, and the eternal Messiah, what joy, what life and peace!
God, make me a spiritual girl. Not merely an intelligent girl, pretty girl, witty girl, natural girl, talented girl, sweet girl, useful girl, or good girl, but a spiritual girl. Hey, but wait. Now in the Spirit there is no longer male nor female, circumcised nor uncircumcised, Jew nor Greek. Messiah is all and in all.
Are we going to bury our talents in this earth, or multiply them as an investment into eternity?
A Poem by Rebekah Mui, “Oh My Precious Hyper-Inflated World”
Oh My Precious Hyper-Inflated World,
Don’t go away, leave me, in a bit,
Stay around and don’t your surly lips curl,
I will be so ever good and sweet,
Fill your pockets with dainties you will never eat,
Dear me how quickly time goes by.
Hark! All time’s wasted by and by,
Why not invest a little quick pleasure,
Something tangible to treasure,
Something possible to measure,
Enjoy my own little gesture,
Feeding this little twinkie who will take my heart,
Fly away; drop and die, and drown.
What’s the harm.
Just a little fun.
Take a break from this endless sojourn,
To chat with the locals, tales to spurn,
While the hurricane nears the ground,
You don’t want to leave the town,
Your heart and your destiny forever bound,
In Futility.
No comments:
Post a Comment