Several years ago, I was privileged to attend an adoption ceremony that touched me deeply. A special family was adopting a precious little boy. As the official proceedings took place, I experienced a fresh insight into our relationship with our heavenly Father.
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There’s one thing about the Holy Ghost. You just never know when he’s gonna make something into a teaching moment. So, a couple of weeks ago, when I was thinking about the Kingdom of God, and praying, “Your kingdom come, O Lord,” the Holy Spirit said something that upended some of my theology.
“Don’t you mean our kingdom?”
For a second, I didn’t know what to think.
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Twenty-four years ago, I wondered what role women had in Church, beginning a lifelong journey of questioning, serving, and then questioning some more. All while simply being available to where God would have me.
My questioning stemmed from having been raised as a missionary kid (MK) in France with exposure to various theological perspectives from multiple denominations. Because there were so few evangelical Christians in France, our local church was composed of a Mennonite family on one end of the evangelical spectrum to a Pentecostal family on the other end. At one time there were 17 different nationalities represented in our congregation of just over 100 people. As an elder-led congregation, each member of the board taught when we were in-between pastors. Different male and female worship leaders led the congregation in a time of worship, Scripture reading, and prayer before the sermon. So, I was accustomed to experiencing the Bible from various denominations, geographical influences, and social economic brackets.
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During my first trip to Israel in 2004, I had a revelation of what God did on my behalf when he hung on the cross and just how much God loved me. As I strolled through the Garden of Gethsemane I wondered if he saw my face before I was born. I walked over to the nearby Church of All Nations that was built over the rock slab on which Jesus prayed before his betrayal by Judas in the Garden. I knelt by the rock and reflected on the night before his crucifixion. As I reached out and laid my hand on the rock, I began to sob, racking sobs. In that moment I realized just what he had done for me. It became real to me. When I think back on that experience, I realize just how powerful God is and how that increased my confidence in who he is, who I am, and my security in him.
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Have you ever felt jealous of God’s choice of someone to fill a position you wanted? I have.
Have you ever felt disappointed because God chose a different path for you than you wanted? I have.
Have you ever felt angry because God allowed someone inferior to you to become your boss? I have.
I think everyone has felt jealous, disappointed, or angry at some time or another and yet I doubt any of us would have concluded we were calling God not very smart. Well, maybe I must confess I did realize it at the time—now that I think about it.
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