Scripture tells us not to toot our own horn. We are exhorted to not think too highly of ourselves, but to look and evaluate soberly, because the only horn worth hearing is the one that will announce Jesus’ return (and glory, could that be soon, please!).
Well, Friends, last week I certainly put my horn away, just packed it right back in its little ole’ case. If ever the inward parts of me have been sobered then this second visit to The Cove was the time.
Remember, mountain revelations are meant and given so that we might know Him. They are given so that anything hindering the revelation of his glory in our lives might be removed. They are given so that we see him and understand ourselves in light of his holiness. His holiness.
There was a little alcove where much discussion of the day’s messages occurred. In that little alcove, in our rooms, at our tables and in our seats we discussed that confession, real confession, is agreeing with God about ourselves.
Now, here’s the hard part: often we believe that confession is ONLY agreeing with the negative.
This is only one facet of confession. Confession is a beautiful jewel—cut for our cleansing. Mounted for our healing. Never before had I practiced this idea of confession as I did while at The Cove.
So, Friends, here are my confessions, both negative and positive, before you, before Him.
Comparisons are lethal. AnnVoskamp just addressed this in a recent post and the Spirit used her words to ping and pierce me.
When we compare ourselves to others then the comparisons become the tendrils entangled in the roots of envy and jealousy. These are ugly, ugly plants. Envy and jealousy reveal that we doubt that God is giving us, treating us, providing us with everything we want or need. Envy and jealousy suggest that we believe we have a lack.
I have had flairs of jealousy and envy.
These are brief, but they are like flairs—both in their intensity and in their warning.
The Spirit revealed this in me again.
At first denial whispered.
Surely not I, I think. Surely I do not have that hidden in me.
And the Spirit said, “Oh, but Tamera, it is you and you do.”
Days later I wept because it was even in my heart at all, and I wept because it took me days to name it. But the Spirit gently brought me to a place where I could confess and agree with God. I needed to understand that my jealousies were a state of mind that said deep down I believe there is a lack in God’s provision for me.
As the Spirit tendered the soil of me I became embarrassed, appalled and grieved. It amazes me how gently God deals with me. How quietly he exposes some ugly root in my heart.
Isn’t that the way of Adam and Eve? The enemy led Eve to believe that there was a lack—that God with held something from Adam and her. She coveted what God had. But she couldn’t handle what God had withheld. God didn’t mean for the frame of humanity to carry the knowledge of good and evil.
Oh, Eve. Like mother, like daughter.
And I cried with Paul. O, wretched woman that I am. Who will save me?
Ahhh! And the answer is the same.
Jesus will rescue me. He will deliver me!
Now, remember, confession is agreeing with God about all things: negative and positive.
It is so much harder to agree with God in positive confession.
God has called me to pray. I have been called to enter his throne room and stand before him on behalf of others.
To talk with God about and for someone else is one of the greatest joys of my life. To ask for blessings and favor on their behalf, to ask for God’s provision, protection and power for them is an honor. It is a pleasure for me to ask for God’s hand to be revealed in their lives, for his plan to be visible, for his sovereignty to be recognized, for his forgiveness to be acknowledged and received—this, this is a privilege.
Why God called this woman to pray I am not sure. It certainly is not because I have it all together (obviously I don’t considering the first part of this post). But you see it is not about me. It is about him.
And isn’t that the glory of this particular Mountain Lesson?
He knows fully the condition of my heart, yet, he calls me anyway. His Son’s ransom payment has made all things right. His Son’s blood love has covered the multitude of my sins.
I pray because I want others to know the ransom has been paid and that they, too, are covered by His blood love.
There’s an overwhelming urgency at times that someone needs to be carried to throne room. In my arms, across my shoulders, on my back or pulled on a travois—however, I can get them there I will take them. Because I know, I KNOW, before the throne they will receive what they need. They will be revived. Healed. Disciplined. Loved. Exhorted. Encouraged.
But this in some ways seems very selfish. Why? Because I am so blessed.
Did you hear that?
When I take someone to the throne room I get to go too. I, ugly sinner that I am, get to stand in the beautiful Presence of the Father (much of the time I don’t stand.). How can I not benefit? Peter knew. It is because of the Spirit’s words through Peter that I first began to understand this calling. He said we are a royal priesthood. Priests intercede for their people.
Even now, right now, these words are blurring on the screen. Tears have pooled in my eyes. That God would not only allow, but call me to such a mission blows my mind. Stuns me. Seriously.
But I agree with him.
I confess: God has called me to a ministry in the throne room.
May the incense I offer be sweet. May it be a fragrant offering.
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.
Who was, and is and is to come.