Be born in me.

Another guest post by my friend, Angel Davis:

Francesca Battistelli has written one of my favorite Christmas songs. When I first heard Be Born in Me, it resonated deeply. I am moved by the thought of Mary’s heart-cry after she learned that as an unwed teenager she was chosen to become mother to the Son of God. “I am the Lord’s servant…may your word to me be fulfilled” (Luke 1:38).

What surrender! We’ve become so accustomed to the story that we may not even sense just how profound that surrender was. We think, “Of course she responded that way. This is who God chose, so surely he gave her grace to respond as one chosen.” Or maybe we hear that response and say, “Whew! Good thing that wasn’t me getting that news. And good thing I’ll never be called like that.”

Unless we are all called like that. Aren’t we all carriers of the Incarnation? Is this not what Christmas is about? Isn’t this season of Advent a call to “make ready the inn” of our own hearts, so we can receive the Christ child with wholehearted surrender, as Mary teaches?

What does it mean to allow Christ to be “born” in us? The lyrics of Battistelli’s song speak volumes:

“I am not brave, I’ll never be


The only thing my heart can offer is a vacancy. 


I’m just a girl, nothing more


But I am willing, I am Yours.”

The message is clear: we have nothing to offer a holy God but our willingness and a place in our hearts. Our best is making room in the inn of our hearts to receive the Christ child and allow his power to work through us. We are not brave in and of ourselves and no good thing we can do or be can be good enough for a holy God. Yet, in the hands Emmanuel — God with us, God in us — our hearts can become a place where God dwells. He comes to reside in us and in him, we are born.

Hear that again: He comes to reside in us and in him, we are born. And being being born in him, we now have access to his presence and power. As we cultivate awareness and ask the Holy Spirit to build our confidence in that reality, we can make more of an impact in other lives.

In this Advent season, as we celebrate Jesus’ ‘arrival and as we experience the tension and yearning for the “not yet” completion of His final coming, we have the opportunity to let God search our hearts and minds and point out any offensive habits we hold onto (Psalm 139:23-24).

And isn’t it interesting that the scriptures specifically refer to “anxious thoughts”? Perhaps the biggest obstacle we have to the Christ who wants to be born in us — who wants us to be born into him — is our inability or unwillingness to rest in the finished work of Jesus. Because you and I, if we call ourselves Christ followers, do know the end of the story. He did come to save the world from the sin and evil. This is the good news of Christmas, of Jesus, of the Bible. He saves us from the tyranny of fear, of anxiety, of death, of sin. Making the inn of our hearts ready for more of Jesus means being honest about what those anxieties, fears and sins are, not just telling him about them but literally through prayer and repentance, handing them over so He can exchange them for His Peace. And we know we have done it when we actually have his peace, the peace that settles beyond reason in whatever circumstance we face.

His peace is an indicator of His presence.

This is how you and I — regular people, just like Mary and Joseph — can usher in the presence of Christ. This is how we bring him into every situation and into every room. It is a birthing — him into our hearts, and us into his — so that more and more of Jesus’ presence and power is released into the world in which we live. Surrender to that presence and power makes us part of the solution to a broken world. It is one person, allowing God to do what he desires with you … just like Mary.

Angel H. Davis is a Christ follower who lives in Athens, Georgia and a Licensed Clinical Social Worker specializing in healing prayer. Read more from Angel in her book, The Perfecting Storm: Experiencing God’s Best Through the Trials of Marriage. This is an exceptional resource for those who want to see transformation in their marriage.

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How to live like Jesus is alive

I suspect sometimes that I live more out of a sense of obligation than awe — more aware that I’ve signed onto a system than that I am a servant of a holy God who has actually sapped the power out of death and sin. I need to be reminded that systems are not living, breathing things, but Jesus is. If I’m going to recommit to that truth today, how can I live like Jesus is alive?

1. Let the dead things die. Toss the old habits that are not working for you any more. Toss the old, dead rituals. Let’s be honest: some of us are still waiting for 1953 to roll around again so we can get back to a more comfortable kind of religion. Folks, Jesus is doing a new thing! Toss the things you keep wanting to come back that are never going to come back, both in your spiritual life and in the rest of your life. Let the things that have no life for you die.

2. Learn to feast. Psalm 23 is a song of death and resurrection. It paints this picture of walking through a valley of shadows, on the verge of death, with a focus on the feast at the far side. On the next rise, just past the valley, there is a table set by God himself.  “You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil. My cup overflows.”

This psalm is about how to walk through trouble with a feast mentality, rather than a spirit of scarcity.

I remember reading this line one evening years ago while I was sitting in the chapel of the church I was serving at the time. We offered Wednesday night communion and I was the pastor for that service. I’d sit in the chapel and as folks came I served them. In between people, I usually read the scriptures.

My husband Steve usually came to that service on Wednesdays, and I remember one week in particular when he showed up. It had been a hard week for him. He was teaching, and it seemed like he was struggling more than usual with classroom discipline. Like that semester he had every demon in Morgan County taking history from him. It was a rough season.

As he walked up to the altar, I was reading this very line from Psalm 23 about God preparing a table for us in the presence of our enemies. I looked up from that line to see my husband kneeling at the altar, his hands out to receive the elements, all his enemies weighing heavily on him — the students, the work, the tests to be graded. And I thought to myself, “Here it is! Being lived out right in front of me … God is inviting Steve to a feast!”

In the face of so many enemies, Steve was invited by the Lord of the Universe to come to the table, to get his cup refilled, to receive God’s goodness and mercy, and to remember that even with so many demons hanging on, God was with him. God was on his side. God is on his side  and yours … and mine.

If the message of Christmas is that God is with us, then the message of Easter is that God is for us.

This is what it means to get a feast mentality. It is to set your face toward that table, believing in the goodness of the One who set it for you, while you’re still in the valley. It is to believe the story is true even when life is hard.

3. Get a resurrection mindset. That is a mindset that is fearless in the face of change. It is a mindset that believes that God has a big, honkin’ plan for your life, something much bigger than you’re thinking, and something you won’t discover as long as you’re tweaking the small stuff.

Jesus is worthy. The cross is glorious. The good news is worth believing. The Kingdom to come is an absolute assurance and the resurrection is proof.

Learn to live as if this is so.

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Blessed Assurance (or, What Wesleyans believe about “once saved always saved”)

“We who have believed enter that rest.” — Hebrews 4:3

You never know when you might need to defend your position on the theology around the phrase, “once saved, always saved.” It happened to me a week or so ago while I was purchasing a couple of things from a small-town boutique. The woman behind the counter shared that her mother was a preacher, that for years she preached in a holiness church until becoming a Baptist. She changed theological streams because she couldn’t make herself believe in the Wesleyan doctrine of free will to the extent that it allows us to actually lose touch with our salvation.

Since I live in the birthplace of the Southern Baptist Convention, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this conversation. I’ve come to suspect there is a gross misunderstanding of how Wesleyans approach free will and salvation. Often, it is made to sound as if it is God’s choice to drop us whenever he feels like it. “Mess up on Facebook? You’re fired.” “Yell at your dog? You’re not saved any more.”

That take on the gift of free will misses the mark by a wide margin. Free will is not God’s prerogative to exercise; it is ours. We are the ones who place ourselves in jeopardy of moving beyond his presence, though even that isn’t as easy to do as we make it sound.

Think of it like a parent holding a child’s hand as they walk across a busy street. The parent’s whole desire in that moment is to get her child safely across that street. That parent isn’t making decisions while they walk about whether or not she really likes that child, or whether this parenting thing is worth it. No! All that parent is thinking is, “Let me keep my child safe.”

Now, suppose this parent has a particularly strong-willed and active kid who is easily distracted. Is she going to hold on more loosely or more tightly to that little one? More tightly, of course! But suppose that active and strong-willed child sees a quarter laying in the street just up the way, something shiny enough to get his attention and valuable enough to make him want it. The child begs his mother to let him go after that shiny thing, but she says no. She realizes the danger of loitering too long in traffic. She knows the destination is the other side — not shiny, distracting things. Her sole intent is to get them both safely across; she is not about to let him go.

The child, however, is relentless. The more he watches the shiny thing, the more sure he is that it is worth the escape so when he sees a split-second of opportunity, he wrenches his hand out of his mother’s and darts into traffic. Now he is out from under the cover of his parent’s care, not by her choice but his.

Did the mama let him go? Did she want him to do that? Did she cause him to do that? Absolutely not. The intention of the parent at every point was to get her child through the traffic safely. The intention of the child when they stepped off the curb together and headed into traffic was to go where his mother led him. But that desire only took him so far. Having held onto a predisposition toward shiny things for too long into the journey has kept him from being completely surrendered to his parent’s plan.

And that is how Wesleyans view salvation. God gives it, but we have to accept it. By the same token, God walks us through the journey of salvation, inviting us to work it out daily with fear and trembling, but at every point on the way we must make the choice to keep our hand in his. This is the responsibility we bear for the gift of free will.

So what about that “blessed assurance” we always sing about? Is it so blessed after all? Is there really any assurance? Absolutely! Assurance is not the promise that once you say yes to God, you’ve got it easy. That promise is given to no one, believer or not. Assurance is the promise that with your submission and surrender, God will get you safely through the traffic to the other side. Our decision to simply rest our hand in his — to submit to his will. That is all that’s required, and that is only a struggle if we choose it to be.

And that, brothers and sisters, ought to create a deep well of rest within your soul and mine. Because if I believe God is good, God is for me, and God will see me through to the other side, then the rest is details.

Listen: The biblical meaning of rest is not a cure for exhaustion but a pathway to assurance. When we are in sync with God, assured of his character and presence, willing to let him carry us safely across the chasm, we rest.

Blessed assurance, indeed.

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