As I Give Glory

God, who gives life to the dead and calls those things which do not exist as though they did.     Romans 4:17**

I am stumped here. I don’t get it.

A text from Nate with this verse. Download from God, to me, through him and I am still foggy.

It’s faith I lack, but I’m not sure what kind. I have faith to believe He can deliver on a promise, but I lack faith to believe I heard that promise right. I lack faith to believe I’m worthy of receiving it.

So I practice adoration. I turn off my mind that’s just come down from the day’s minutia — whirling and spinning through dinner, laundry and bath — and I look up. It’s my only safe place.

It’s where my eyegate, Your entryway, gets transformed.

I praise you, oh God, who raised Lazarus, who raises me. I am a walking leper, with parts long-dead that I’ve lived neglecting and You dispense life. My heart’s callouses have no reason to continue under the beauty of this promise.

But breath. Warm, moist breath against the winter’s fading sting awakens me. Your breath. One word from Your mouth — one truth to Abraham, through Nate, now to me — tells my heart it can’t stay broken any longer.

I have life to live.

Your life to live.

Through me and all of my dead places. Including that place in my heart long-wounded, living neglected.

Death of dreams, death of hopes, death of middle-of-the-night prayers my flesh wants to stop praying can not be held in the same hand as that of the one who revitalized eyesight with one muddy concoction. You revive all that is death in me and bring life to my broken.

And You see through what was once vapor, and speak words over it until it becomes reality. Existence comes from Your mouth.

So when I come, barren, and expect to walk away barren, because my heart has faith for Your promises fulfilled but lacks faith that I’m one You might give promise to, You remind me of Abraham.

The man “strengthened in faith, giving glory to God.” (ESV says: “He grew strong in His faith as he gave glory to God.)

I can give glory to You and still distrust me and, in my adoration, get changed.

Thank you for re-setting my vision — off of me, and onto You. I adore You, oh One who can hold all my praise and send me walking away changed.

I praise You that in my confusion of faith, I can look at You and inherit Your eyesight. I see life over long-dead and existence over the otherwise invisible.

When I adore, You impart.


**So what do I do with these posts, you ask, other than just read them? First, if you haven’t yet, read: Why I Adore to give you a context for this little space on my blog. (This post also gives context.)

If you are compelled, I invite you to participate. Set up a space and time in your own life to begin adoring. Over laundry or dinner dishes, on your commute to work, or in the wee morning hours — ten minutes is a great start. You can use the verse I list here every day or two as a launch pad for your own adoration.

Then practice praise.

Add to my adoration here, by posting a comment with your own words back to God about God …or hide it in your heart.

I promise your weary soul won’t regret it.

***You can easily subscribe to these devotional meditations as they are delivered, by using this feed: or by entering your email address in the second box on the right-hand side… (scroll up a bit)

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