We know that God’s Word has power. With it, He spoke the world into existence.

No, really. Think about that for a minute.

He spoke into a void of nothingness and the world came into being.  He didn’t labor all day or work up a sweat. He just said it and it was.

With His words He told a storm at sea to be still… and it did.

There is such strength in His word that Job’s friend likened it to thunder. “Listen carefully to the thunder of God’s voice as it rolls from his mouth. It rolls across the heavens and his lightning flashes out in every direction. Then comes the thunder – the tremendous voice of his majesty.” (Job 37:2-4)

But for all that strength and power, His words were also gentle and healing. When Elijah was hiding in a cave from the wicked Queen Jezebel, God’s voice came not in the great wind or the earthquake or the fire. God’s word came quietly in the sound of gentle blowing. (1 Kings 19)

In this modern age, we use a lot of words. But, in all of that chatter there is still nothing quite like a word spoken by God. Words as profound and awesome as the One who spoke them. The great King David of Israel’s glory days would try to describe God’s words through poetry and song. Grasping for metaphors to illustrate the wonder of them, he said that the words of God were sweeter than honey and finer than gold.

Words that could bring life, give insight, heal deep hurts, illumine the dark and fearful places, cut beyond the layers of pride and insecurity that encase us, discern truth from error. Words spoken with power and authority. Words that nourish with both grace and truth.

Words that give us a glimpse of the One who spoke them. Just a peek so that we might begin to comprehend the very nature of God. How gracious of God to tell us a bit of His story. To reveal Himself to us so that we don’t have to grope around in the dark… wondering and guessing. To let us know that we are part of that story.

Wonder of wonders. That the very voice that once called the stars out by name and commanded the morning to come forth, is the same voice that sings love songs to us. Lavishing words of delight over us. Calling to us and making Himself just a tad vulnerable like a suitor pursuing his beloved. And, then writing it all down for us so that we wouldn’t forget. So that when the days seem lonely and nights especially dark, we can open the love letters and remember. Reminders that the story isn’t over. That it’s not just a fairy tale. It’s really all true. And, He’s coming back for His bride.

But… what if you’d never heard the story? What if all these years you’d been looking at the wonder of creation and felt the longing? Sensing that Someone amazing must have done it. Instinctively wanting to worship this One who made such beauty. And, yet, never knowing the story.

Maybe you’d worship the creation itself or a wooden idol of what you imagine this diety must be like. Maybe you’d tell stories to try and fill in the gaps. Stories that would pass down from generation to generation. Your attempts to explain the mysteries. The trouble is, it’s hard to explain things you don’t really understand.

 If only you knew that He’d written it all down for you. That He wasn’t  an impersonal force or a golden statue or a set of ideals. Rather, He was a personal God who spoke… to you.

The truth is, this is the situation for many people. Here in America we have God’s words, written down in the Bible. We have it paraphrased. We have bits of  it on plaques and bumper stickers. There are Bibles just for kids with fun facts and maps in the margins. There are Bibles with pink covers just for women and large print Bibles for people who have trouble seeing. We have Kindle Bibles and laptop Bibles. We have so many Bibles that we’ve grown numb to the power of the words on the pages. We don’t even care anymore. In fact, a lot of us would rather argue than listen anyway. And, that’s OK with God. He lets us make that choice.

But,  in the mountain villages of Oaxaca, Mexico, there are people that have never had the opportunity to make that choice. Precious people who have been lovingly created and cherished by a God they don’t even know. People whose ancestors sacrificed people in an attempt to appease the deity they imagined. They’ve never heard the real story or read His love letters written to them.

And, so tomorrow I go to give it to them. I’ll join with a team of 10 people from our church who will help get God’s words to them – for the first time ever in their own language. On solar-powered MP3 players of all things.

For 10 days, we’ll live with them and dine with them and help them finish the concrete floor of a building in their village. We’ll pray with them and for them and we’ll talk to them about the God who made their mountains and put the sun in their sky. We’ll let them hear the words of the One who came full of grace and truth – the words of Jesus spoken to them in their own language.  

I’ll have to leave some of the people that I love most to go do it. I’m not sure what to expect or how safe I’ll be. I don’t know what they like to eat or if I’ll get to shower or if tarantulas will crawl in my shoes while I sleep.

But, this I do know. Everyone should have a chance to taste words that are sweeter than honey and hear truth that is worth more than gold.

She had shoved it aside. So enthralled with these words that breakfast would have to wait.

As I peeked in on her, Jesus’ words rang true. ”It is written: ‘Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

Ancient words first spoken to a stubborn people after their years in the wilderness. Repeated by my Lord. Lived out by my daughter as she hungers for something more than food to fuel her day.

Failure. The day has barely begun and already it lies heavy on my chest. The hurrying, the nagging, the yelling. I’m exasperated; they’re discouraged. It’s not the way I want to send them off to school. But, somehow it happens that way more often than not.

Maybe tomorrow will be different. I’ll make sure my own heart is ready before the day begins. I’ll pack lunches ahead of time. I’ll make sure they don’t sleep in. I’ll do this; I’ll do that. Tomorrow will be different.  

But tomorrow comes and it’s not different. I don’t follow-thru on my plans or we find forgotten homework that needs finished or the kids begin to bicker about who should brush teeth first. And, before I know it, belittling words are flying out of my mouth and I’m nagging about the chore chart or yelling at them for yelling at each other.

The foreboding sense of failure comes quickly as I recognize the signs of another morning gone bad. I feel like I’m going to suffocate under the weight of it. The lies rush in, attacking my insecurities and causing me to question my worth.

Will tomorrow ever be different? And the day after that? Will I ever follow-thru on my good intentions? When it comes right down to it, will it really be any different?

I’m not talking about slapping on a fake smile and biting my tongue so that we can have a cheery morning. Anybody can do that for a day or two. Jesus once likened it to whitewashing tombs – the outside is cleaned up but the inside is still full of decay. That is not what I want. My people-pleasing heart has been there and it’s not pretty. It’s full of striving and pride and, eventually, broken promises.

This smothering disappointment that I feel can really only lead to two places. Option #1: It can lead me to trying harder tomorrow. Maybe I’ll succeed (and then I’ll feel prideful for having it all together) or maybe I’ll fail (and then I’ll hate myself for screwing up my kids).

Or, Option #2: It can lead me to a healthy sorrow and dependence on the One who can actually stop the inward decay.

The only real answer is, as always, right there in His words to us. Lovingly breathed out by the One who understands our hearts better than we do.

Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal. (Paul’s second letter to the church at Corinth)

Oh, it is so tempting to lose heart. But, could it be true? Could it be that somehow in all of this mess that is me, that my inner woman is being renewed day by day? That something beautiful is being born within that will give my mornings hope?

Could it be that tomorrow could be different? Not because of what I do differently (though I know my choices do matter), but because God has given me His Spirit and He is producing a treasure in this broken vessel. Even in the midst of my failure.

Could it be that I don’t have to yell when the chore chart isn’t finished… because I’m resting in what He is doing in our home. Could I really be free from these patterns that define our mornings? And the suffocating feeling that comes with them? The condemnation I put on myself and on the kids for our failures?

Could it be?

Earlier in the same letter Paul writes, “Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.” Ahhh liberty. Sweet freedom. Maybe I can breathe again.

But wait it gets even better… “But we all, with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.”

 Breathe it in, Shan. Deep, clean breaths. No more choking under the weight of your unmet expectations and your own disappointment with yourself. Dependence instead.

Dwelling in these pages and depending on this One.

 “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty…”

It was a time for renewal. Cleaning, organizing, repairing. They were restoring the broken down places, renovating the neglected house.

Not too dissimilar from the spring cleaning you and I do to our own homes. Digging through the closets and the forgotten corners. Sorting the stuff that accumulates. You know the routine: a pile for Goodwill, a pile for the trash, a pile to fix and restore.

But what if in the midst of all that dusting and piling and fixing, you uncovered something precious. Something you (or someone before you) had tucked away for another day. Maybe a box of photos from the old country or a journal of precious insights from your great-grandmother. In that moment, the thing once hastily shoved aside becomes a treasure of sorts.

That’s what happened for these folks. Workmen were there repairing the house and tending to the mess – and then they found it. Under the rubble and the piles of discarded things. A forgotten treasure. A journal of letters from a Lover to His beloved.

The text* tells us that “Hilkiah responded and said to Shaphan the scribe, ‘I have found the book of the law in the house of the Lord.’” We are told that Shaphan eventually took the book to the king along with a report about the ongoing work in the temple. “And Shaphan read from it in the presence of the king. And it came about when the king heard the words of the law that he tore his clothes.”

As I read the words my heart broke afresh. All I could think was: How long? How long had they been trying to follow God and serve Him with only tradition as their guide? All the while, words of life and wisdom were right there in the house of the Lord. No wonder King Josiah tore his clothes as a sign of deep mourning.

The text doesn’t really tell us how long. We know that the nation of Judah had a string of good kings and bad kings. Some were horrible men who did horrible things. Others came and restored the heart of Jerusalem by worshipping the One True God. The history is a checkered one.

So how long had it been? How long had they been going through the motions?

Truth be told, some weren’t even going through the motions. Many were in flat out rebellion against God. How long had it taken them to stray away? Without the word to guide them or faithful men to lead them. How long?

And there it was all along. Right there in the house of the Lord. “I have found the book of the law in the house of the Lord.”

Of this book King David** had once written: “The law of the Lord is perfect, restoring the soul; the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes…they are more desirable than gold, yes, than much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and the drippings of the honeycomb.”

Maybe as a boy, King Josiah had heard this psalm from a faithful nanny… did he tear his clothes as whisps of  the ancient poetry came back to his mind? How is it that he understood how precious the book really was?

Oh dear friends, what about us? How long have we been trudging through our days, trying to live this life without the perfect, restoring words of God as our guide? How long will we go through the motions while a Bible lies on the shelf or stuffed away in a closet? These words that have the power to restore the soul, rejoice the heart, give wisdom, and enlighten the eyes. These words that are more desirable than gold. We look everywhere for truth and some way to make sense of our days. All the while, words of life and wisdom are right here, hidden under the rubble.

As I think ahead to this year and my desire that 2010 be a year of dwelling, I pray that it will be a year of dwelling in His Word in a way that I’ve never dwelt before.

That my heart will find its refuge in the pages of this book.

That I will feast on it as it points me ever to the Living Word: the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us.

*the record of King Josiah is in 2 Chronicles 34

**King David’s poem of praise is recorded in Psalm 19