I was really convicted by the Sunday School lesson we heard this past Sunday at the post Chapel. So much so it has taken me till Thursday morning to process it. It wasn’t anything particularly new to me, the idea of presenting oneself as a living sacrifice is as old as Christendom. But WHAT that actually means struck me this time.
The passage was the 1st Chapter of Malachi 6-14.
6A son honoureth his father, and a servant his master: if then I be a father, where is mine honour? and if I be a master, where is my fear? saith the LORD of hosts unto you, O priests, that despise my name. And ye say, Wherein have we despised thy name?
7Ye offer polluted bread upon mine altar; and ye say, Wherein have we polluted thee? In that ye say, The table of the LORD is contemptible.
8And if ye offer the blind for sacrifice, is it not evil? and if ye offer the lame and sick, is it not evil? offer it now unto thy governor; will he be pleased with thee, or accept thy person? saith the LORD of hosts.
9And now, I pray you, beseech God that he will be gracious unto us: this hath been by your means: will he regard your persons? saith the LORD of hosts.
10Who is there even among you that would shut the doors for nought? neither do ye kindle fire on mine altar for nought. I have no pleasure in you, saith the LORD of hosts, neither will I accept an offering at your hand.
11For from the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the same my name shall be great among the Gentiles; and in every place incense shall be offered unto my name, and a pure offering: for my name shall be great among the heathen, saith the LORD of hosts.
12But ye have profaned it, in that ye say, The table of the LORD is polluted; and the fruit thereof, even his meat, is contemptible.
13Ye said also, Behold, what a weariness is it! and ye have snuffed at it, saith the LORD of hosts; and ye brought that which was torn, and the lame, and the sick; thus ye brought an offering: should I accept this of your hand? saith the LORD.
14But cursed be the deceiver, which hath in his flock a male, and voweth, and sacrificeth unto the LORD a corrupt thing: for I am a great King, saith the LORD of hosts, and my name is dreadful among the heathen.
There comes a time in ones walk with God that one must either shite or get off the pot. There are too many little things standing between me and my God, between me and the kind of life and relationship He has asked me to have with Him. I have come to realize that I cannot, in and of myself, rid myself of these small, clinging things which a part of me holds so dear. So, I must this day, arm myself for the battle and accept His Lordship in all things in my life, great and small. There can be no portion reserved for myself. And why should there be? I am the pot, He the potter. What I have and am are because of His will in my life. I have been blessed beyond all sense in life and love, in health and wealth, in ability and mind. My “little affections” are the worst sort of blasphemy and I DO NOT WANT THEM. For the first time in a long while, I feel my life is getting simpler, rather than feeling stretched too thin. I like it. I hope it is an acceptable sacrifice…for it is all I have.