Pressure

I was reading today in my devotional about pressure.  About being made broken bread and poured-out wine… His call for my life is something that was whispered to my heart over a period of years, one that is still being repeated.  It is a deeply spiritual call that loses momentum in the busyness of my day-to-day. The intimacy of His whisper gets forgotten as I “do” the tasks that are required of me. All throughout my day I feel this pressure. This constant squeezing and uncomfortable molding that I resist often. I don’t mind being uncomfortable if I can put a time limit on it. I am a pretty flexible person. I am happy to serve so long as I get a break from time to time. The thing about this call He has given me is that it has no set time… It is forever. I know that is why I feel the pressure so much more intensely these days. Why do I resist when all I want is to be made more like Him? To be the disciple that plants seeds and carefully watches and nurtures until the day of harvest? I actually LOVE that he is taking the time to crush me. I love the children he has given to me for this brief time. I love that the seeds are planted and I pray for the one that will be there to harvest them.

Oswald Chambers said this, “He gives us a tremendous, riveting pain to fasten our attention on something that we never even dreamed could be His call for us. And for one radiant, flashing moment we see His purpose, and we say, “Here am I, send me!” (Isaiah 6:8).  This call has nothing to do with personal sanctification but with being made broken bread and poured-out wine. Yet God can never make us into wine if we object to the fingers He chooses to use to crush us.”

He goes on to say that the finger and thumb that He uses to squeeze us is often not His. If I am going to be made into wine, then I must be crushed. I can’t be poured out if I am never transformed. The shaping of my character is one that is done by the fingers of the children he has placed in my home. By their broken families. By the lost in this world that need Him as much as I do. If I am going to be a child of God with a character like Christ I must be crushed and poured out. I must allow the pressure that results in the kind of bread and wine that benefits His other children. Oh, that I would remember the intimate whispers and the enthusiasm with which I replied, “Here I am, send me!”.

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