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The writer of Hebrews references the surpassing benefit of God’s disciplining rod. “It produces,” states Hebrews 12:11, “a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.” O how I want that–an abundant harvest, overwhelmingly huge, of righteousness and peace. Like amber waves of grain rolling just above the midwestern soils, as far as the eye can see. In the end, I suppose, letting our Heavenly Father have His way with us–with me–is the key to such fruitful abundance. Anything less than that will ultimately leave our souls fallow. Surely that won’t be acceptable to us, even if God’s discipline does, as the writer claims, seem painful.

It was the noted E. Stanley Jones’s writings on the topic of spiritual conversion that gave me permission to recognize the spiritual discipline of “revelation and response,” though Jones refers to it as “receptivity and response.” Herein is what may be the secret to spiritual stability, and it works along these lines: God “reveals” Himself through that love letter we know as the Bible. This revelation is received as we spend time reading the Bible, thoughtfully absorbing what is read. God revealing Himself to us through His Word then prompts that “response” on our part, wherein we prayerfully acknowledge how what is read speaks to whatever situation we find ourselves in. We echo back to God our understanding of what we believe He is addressing in our lives. In this way a holy conversation unfolds. As the conversation progresses God then chooses to bring to our minds those insights from His written revelation that address still further the conditions of our souls. Sometimes the conversation merely emphasizes what has already been discovered during the reading of the Word. Sometimes God develops some line of thought, some biblical precept, and we embark on the path of greater discovery; often about God; often about ourselves.

And so it goes, revelation and response, that sacred moment between the Divine Lover and His redeemed beloved, this rendevouz proving to be most central to our spiritual maturity. Everything in a man or woman’s life can flow from this holy conversation; this chapel time with the great God of Heaven and Earth.

Yet this is so contrary to much of the Christianity that I know, and perhaps many of you know. You see our Christianity is too much about systems and checklists and sin management and well-oiled structures. Like lots of scaffolding hiding the ancient facade of some cathedral, so our spritiual activity hides–indeed surpresses–that image of a Savior who, with arms outstretched, beckons His dear child to simply come unto Him to find rest. If a lot of Christianese-like activity is not at play, then somehow we feel as if our religion is devoid of meaning. I can’t help to believe, however, that such a form of Christianity is simply cheap, used-car-lot like gamesmanship, an attempt to maintain a Jesusy image while subconsciously keeping God at bay.

Thus the rendezvous, that moment or season of moments wherein revelation and response bear great power. It is here that I realize that the most critical things in my life are defined not by my busyness and productivity and image and influence, but, instead, by laying my head squarely upon the bosom of so great a Savior as Jesus while He wraps His royal robe around me and lets me be aware of His presence, His love, His voice . . . indeed, Him.