On earth as it is in heaven?

 

The line jumps out at me as I pray it tonight: “Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” What a startling prayer! I think of the angels and saints surrounding God the Father and the Son, utterly overcome with the magnificence of  creative power and sacrificial love, totally consumed in joyful worship. Theirs is no painful surrender to the commands of God. Theirs is . . . joy. . . fullness. This is what we’re made for.

 

What would it look like if God’s will was done in my life, here and now, as it is in heaven? If I was so full of delight in Him that each time He spoke it was pure joy to respond – an honor to be the one chosen to do his bidding, rather than work to which I drag my heels, responding hesitantly and fearfully?

 

I realized three weeks ago how grudgingly I respond. We were talking about the book I’m writing, discussing my desire that it be less about me than about Jesus, yet aware that God often uses stories of His faithfulness in the lives of others to draw us closer to Jesus. She wondered aloud whether I could perhaps think of the book as modern day flesh on the bones of Biblical truth – Jesus at the center. I groaned, “Yeah. My flesh.” It felt like a sort of death, letting my weaknesses be the backdrop against which God’s love shines bright.

 

I was sad to see in me that grudging “obedience” (if it even deserves the name). But I’m glad the words slipped past my lips. It got it out in the open, let me see another place I needed to cry to God to do in me what I can’t do in myself. And He is doing it as He usually does, bringing in His reign in me, slowly and patiently, often in ways I don’t see until later. The process of surrender still sometimes feels like death, but there’s resurrection power and joy in it now too, the joy of being with Him in it. I’m excited to see where this all leads. . .

 

Pray with me?

 

Father. . . your kingdom come, your will be done in our lives with as much passion and enthusiastic joy as it is done in heaven . . .