Inspiration

This evening I “hung out” with some friends and family, and, of all the crazy things to do, we watched music videos on the internet. A bit of this and a bit of that, including Celtic Women, Enya, and Celine Dion, among others. At some point (I think it was when Ms. Dion was singing the Titanic theme) my heart pushed its way to the surface, and said, “That’s supposed to be me!” Later, when I was bouncing on my little trampoline before going to bed, that little voice came again, only this time stronger and louder, because only me and Jesus were there to hear it: “That’s supposed to be me!”

I don’t know what you think about that—hey, I don’t even know what I think about it—but it’s there. What’s more, it’s good.

If you don’t understand “stale,” then go out and buy some nice, warm, fresh bread. Leave it sit on the table for a few days. Now you understand “stale.” W hat’s more, get this revelation: everything, and I do mean everything, gets stale. Why do you suppose the divorce rate is so high? Why do you suppose the success rate of just about everything is so low? We are excited about something for a while, and then the excitement fades, so we let our self-discipline slip, and we’ve once again failed to accomplish what we wanted to do.

When our passion fades, and some part of our life becomes stale, we need inspiration. We need to see or hear or experience something that makes our heart cry out, “That’s supposed to be me!” The bigger the thing is, the better it is for us.

Think about young Joseph, recognizing himself in his dream about sheaves of grain and stars all bowing. Mind you, there was a dark side to his life after he saw that, but the fact remains that he recognized himself. Young David was appalled at the apathy of Saul’s army because he carried in his heart a picture of himself as a warrior; he knew he could do better than they were doing.

I remember when I first heard Nancy Alcorn talking about Mercy Ministries. Joyce Meyer Ministries had just purchased and renovated a large building to give to Mercy, and I pointed at my computer monitor and said, “Someday that is going to be me, giving a house to Mercy.” And when you consider that at that point I was renting a house and had zero savings, that’s pretty ridiculous.

Recently I heard it said that pain is the birthplace of faith, but, quite frankly, I don’t agree at all—unless you’re talking about that pain that comes from an overpowering desire for something we don’t yet possess. That is what drives us to seek the Lord. We catch that glimpse—that’s supposed to be me; that’s what I really am—and we see the discrepancy, and we chase after the Lord to bring it to pass.

That is good.

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