Rethinking My Facecrook
My identity was faked on Facebook. A bunch of my friends were used as pawns for pillaging. It’s so creepy. I’m so sorry. My picture smiling, hovering over videos concocted to coax and confiscate. Thieves advancing right along with technology. Though confidentiality clauses and privacy policies plaster everything we sign, code, or chip—they’re finding new ways in.
A friend who got punked by my poser had to change her password. She quips on our way out the church, The only thing that stands between us and destitution is eight digits. I roar with laughter at the insanity of how true it is! All our progress making us appear smarter and faster is all comin round to bite our backside.
Pastor preaches a surer identity. His divine power has given to us all things that pertain to life and godliness. Knowing Jesus credits us with exceedingly great and priceless promises. Partakers of the divine…settle all earth’s accounts.
The name above all names calls us by name, never number. In a land that wants for everything—we never shall. Reclining our mind, stilling the waters—He restores our soul. Guarding His sheep for His name’s sake. His rod corrects and His staff protects. The banquet is spread and the table is set. Our cup flows over whether it rains or restrains. All our days goodness and mercy follow, until home in the house of the Lord forever.
Laugh in the face of your identity being stolen, and face the fact of the kingdom before you. A kingdom outshining the shadow of death, where we need not fear any form of evil—the Lord is with us! Thieves may break in and grab our gold, but our treasure triumphs in heaven.
Sitting back in my seat, all fear and fuss quieting, I wonder for the ones who broke in. Jesus says to pray for those who spitefully use you. Suddenly I see faces. Faces of flesh, not photo, and they don’t appear so different than mine. Hardened by a heart for what moth and rust destroy. Not willing to hear how love serves them more. The Lord is kind to the unthankful and merciful to me. Supplicating for them transforms me.
If we are good only to those giving good in return, how will change in our own heart occur? If we only give to the thankful heart will the thankless see a way to restart? We are daughters and sons of day, not night. Not prisoners of darkness, but children of light. If indeed we break with Him, others behold His love for them.
What we forfeit here can never compare with all He wills to reveal in us.
Thanksgiving Day has been buzzing all week. Give thanks, the people say. But to give anything receiving comes first. Hear the God who helps—the Almighty who blesses. If arms fold at the Giver of all things, who has thanks to give? If my soul be not restored by the goodness of God, everything else is good for nothing.