Holy Guacamole: A Glorious Discovery of Your Undeniable Worthಮಾದರಿ

 Thirsty Worship 

  

I’m just a girl, standing in front of her refrigerator, asking Jesus to fix it. 

My refrigerator (which I lovingly named Old Silver) broke into pieces when my parents came over for dinner one night. I felt a kinship to the Samaritan woman, as I stood beside my modern-day well, and contemplated all the ways I was thirsty for God to tell me how to fix all the broken things in my life and in this world. While the world continually suggests we muster up one more thing to become the people we really want to be, I’ve found more hustle seems to only leave me more thirsty.

In John 4, Jesus invites us to drink living water by worshiping God in spirit and in truth.

To worship God in spirit and in truth, we must kneel under the weight of our own need for salvation and rescue, hold out our hands, and receive whatever God offers us today—even if His provision doesn’t always make sense. 

I’m as skilled at understanding God as my refrigerator is at comprehending me. Somewhere inside that massive stainless steel box are electronic parts that are trying very hard to give me what I want. I know that if Old Silver were a sentient creature, she would want very much to reach her full potential. All the fixes and repairs are only temporary, though, because no refrigerator has eternal life. Eternal warranties do not exist in the world of appliances. The maker of that appliance will give you a year, just in case you get a lemon. After that, you and your pretty icebox are on your own. 

That’s not how it works with our Maker, however. He doesn’t offer any warranties, because He doesn’t make any lemons. He knows we all have some malfunctioning parts, and He doesn’t want us to try to fix them on our own. Refrigerators are temporal, but we are eternal. Our small attempts to hold ourselves together and save ourselves from all the broken parts of our souls will never quench our deepest thirst for the God who has a plan to repair this broken world—which is a good thing, since God longs to quench our thirst and invite us to join Him in the work. Today, let’s start that work by holding our brokenness out to God and worshiping Him in the truth about how desperately we need Him:

“God, You know everything about us. You see the cracks and the broken places that scare us. They don’t scare You, though. Right here, in this place where we are a mess and where our imperfection smacks of our incompetence, we choose to set aside our insecurity and lift our hands in surrender to You. Because, for some ridiculous reason, You chose us and You love us just as we are. Thank you for saving us and swallowing up all our brokenness in your mercy.”