He must increase

Until He is my favorite thought upon waking, and my favorite thought before sleep.

Until He is the pursuit of my quiet moments.

Until I see sacrifice as the noblest choice.

Until the faults of others become the platform for more grace and lavish mercy, not a salve for my self-righteousness or kindle for my judgment.

Until I can react to the faults of others like Christ responded to mine.

Until my heart cracks clean wide with joy when those around me advance His kingdom more than I can. When what is in their hand is praised and magnified for His name’s sake.  

Until I am happiest playing the servant. Happiest in the shadows. Happiest keeping my most lavish devotion my deepest secret.

Until “What is He doing here” is my thought on entering a room, not “how will others perceive what I am doing here.”

Until the squeezing, brazen sin of unbelievers works a sorrow and compassion so strong within me that only the Gospel comes out.

Until with forgetful abandon, I can fling behind me my greatest accomplishments for Christ, and press forward toward the mark, unencumbered with what I have done.

Until He is my favorite story.

Until the sweetness of some remembered word of His is enough.

Until I learn that loss, and pain, and hard are holy places, and the mundane of life makes for the finest altars.

Until I learn that Gesthemane and Golgatha may lead to an empty tomb and an upper room.

He must increase.

Until Christ be formed in me.

Beth