Be a Pansy.

The December sun is warm on the backs of our necks as Grandma stoops down to pluck off a few wilted, purple blooms from the plant.

"You have to pick off the dead parts, or the whole plant will die," she explains. "It's called deadheading."

I tuck the information away, in the special portion of my mind I save for things I know will one day be important.

***

I often hear pansy used (and use it myself) as a name to denote weakness. But I've learned that pansies aren't really weak at all. They can bloom in any season, in almost every color. They're strong enough to survive through winter.

Maybe we should all try to be a little more like pansies. Rather than allowing the parts of our old nature to corrupt the new, we should pick off those dead pieces, as Jesus said:

If your hand or foot causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away (Matthew 18:8).

After all,

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness (Ephesians 4:22-24).

Maybe we should learn to bloom in any season. Maybe we should learn to love our infinite varieties of color. Maybe we're strong enough to make it through the winter.

Maybe the next time someone calls you a pansy (...okay, well, it happens to me), instead of being offended, you should simply smile and say, "Thanks."

Maybe what the world calls weakness, is really a beautiful strength.

Dwelling Place.

Consider now, for the LORD has chosen you to build a temple as a sanctuary. Be strong and do the work, (1 Chronicles 28:10).

And he did. Overlaid with pure gold. Covered with fine gold. Adorned with precious stones. Carved cherubim on the walls. Blue, purple and crimson yarn and fine linen, (2 Chronicles 3:4-7, 14). He made the golden altar; the tables on which was the bread of the Presence; the lampstands of pure gold with their lamps; the gold floral work and lamps and tongs; the pure gold wick trimmers, sprinkling bowls, dishes and censers; and the gold doors of the temple, (2 Chronicles 4:19-22).

With precise measurements and only the most valuable of materials, Solomon built a place on Earth for the God of Heaven to dwell.

Yet the wise king himself admitted, "The temple I am going to build will be great, because our God is greater than all other gods. But who is able to build a temple for Him, since the heavens, even the highest heavens, cannot contain Him?" (2 Chronicles 2:5-6). For the Most High does not live in houses made by men, (Acts 7:48).

But we have an even higher calling. God has chosen us, not to build a temple for Himself, but to be a temple for Himself. What could not be contained by a man-made building of pure gold and precious stones now dwells in our God-formed bodies of weak flesh and brittle bone. Jesus, our cornerstone--Emmanuel, God with us. In Him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple to the Lord. And in Him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by His Spirit (Ephesians 2:21-22).

This is the most beautiful mystery. That our fickle and wayward hearts are more desirable to God than forty-six thousand pounds of pure gold. That the spark of color in our wandering eyes is worth more to the Father than the rarest of gemstones. That when we were powerless to enter the Most Holy Place, He brought the holiness to us. Almighty God, who alone is worthy of offerings, made the offering for us; the sovereign Creator, who alone is worthy of sacrifice, bound the sacrifice upon the altar for us.

This is our price. Our value. Our worth. This is who we are--for God has deemed it so. The very breath of His Spirit in our lungs--the very blood of His Son in our veins. There is no higher calling--there is no greater gift.

We are His Temple. We are the collision of Heaven and Earth. We are the place where He dwells.

We Shine Like Stars in the Universe.

The lines of her face were drawn in loveliness. Born into desperation, with no father and a scattered people, the world could not have known she was the chosen one. Yet she altered history's ever-flowing course with a single footstep into the throne room of her king. Her name was Esther, and she shone like a star in that dark universe.

Her legacy is our inheritance. We have been chosen, orphans plucked from the street and instructed to make ourselves ready. To bathe in the oil of repentance until we are dripping in the fragrance of holiness.

We live in a desperate time. The Enemy rages against God's people with a stolen and malicious authority. Now is the time to enter the throne room of Heaven and plead the case of our brothers and sisters before our King. To kneel trembling before the One who alone holds the power of life and death in His hands.

For our King is full of mercy, and His heart is moved by our loveliness. He will extend the scepter to us, that we may dwell in His presence and live. He will answer our request, up to half His kingdom. He will grant His power to our people, that we may fight back against the Enemy, and overcome. 

Do not be afraid, beloved. Enter the throne room, and speak. Who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?