That thing that keeps you up at night. That question. That unfamiliarity.
Too many nights I've spent looking up at the ceiling wondering exactly- precisely- intensely- WHAT IS MY CALLING?
Well guess what, I know it now. And I feel it in my bones, like a whisper almost.
That still, small voice seems to speak louder than booms, it's fascinating. And so yes, now I know, and I feel it in my heart.
Funny thing is..
It's not all about the call. It's not all about the call at all.
Cause what's the sense in someone calling you, if you never respond?
Stay with me here-
The idea that Jesus knew his calling from the beginning was not what saved us- It was his response to the calling on his life.
He accepted what so many of us have rejected- “not my will, but thy will be done.”
His submission to hell for our admission into heaven. His body broken on the cross, his last words spoken not from loss- but from victory. That it is finished.
We are no longer bruised from our past, tied to our inequities or nailed to our shortcomings because
The Great I Am found it fitting to be bruised for our past, present, and future sins- the perfector of our faith found himself tied to a calling where the weight of our inequities rested squarely on his back. And while being nailed to a cross for you and I, our shortcomings were covered by His sufficiency.
He answered his call. And because of it, no one will ever be the same. This was destiny in the making, purpose for the taking. And you know what?
Im gonna answer too.