Marinate Me

We've been visiting different churches every Sunday since we moved as I am so anxious to find "our" place and plug in. The preacher at the last church we visited delivered one of those sermons that was so full of wisdom I couldn't hardly keep up with it. My mind was constantly turning over each point and then he'd lay down another for me to chew on. I knew I'd have to listen to this one several times. (Good thing they gave visitors a free CD of that morning's message!)

One of the phrases he used has stuck in my brain. As he spoke on the need for quality quiet time with the Lord he said,

"Sometimes you need to just marinate yourself in it (the Spirit)."

What a great visual! When you marinate something long enough (quality time) it soaks into the core of food - it becomes an integral part of the overall taste. But even that is only true if what you're marinating is porous enough, ready to receive the flavor. If you don't give something enough time to marinate it can't soak through very deep. It looks nice and coated on the outside but that's the only place the taste will be. Cut off the outside and the inside shows no trace of the flavor. It's easily separated. AND, according to our household grilling expert - my hubby - if you don't marinate meat for long enough and then toss it on the grill the flame will destroy the flavor of the marinade. It will be like it was never on there to begin with.

I want to soak in the Spirit. I want to spend enough quality time with him that he is all the way through me - to the core where he is an integral part of me. Not just on the outside where I appear to be covered in Spirit but the inside remains unchanged. Not so shallow that the flames of life and of the enemy can wipe away any trace of Spirit, as if he were never there. I want to be soaked to the bone.

This, not surprisingly, is NOT easy for me!!! In a house with an early-rising toddler and an extremely needy dog (seriously - if you've met her you know where I'm coming from) there is a shortage of long stretches of quiet. And the enemy isn't giving me a break anytime soon. Also not surprisingly, every since I recommitted (well, attempting) to wake up early in quest of quiet time something has come in the way. Most often it's my own reluctance to get out of bed. But once I'm out, the dog is going crazy and/or the girl is waking up. Sigh . . .

But I'll keep trying to marinate myself in the Spirit and trust that he can use even micro-mustard seed efforts.