One voice says, "You're loved." The other says, "Prove it."

Why is it that the voice that says, "Prove it," seems deafeningly loud, and the voice that says, "You're loved," seems whispering at best—mocking at worst?

Isaac has called this series, "This Is Not A Test," because usually, our lives feel like one. This entire existence sometimes feels like nothing more than a long mess of years to simply, by whatever means possible, justify that we are okay. That we are worth something. That we are useful enough to breathe this world's oxygen. We're trying to meet some proverbial standard, convinced that if we just have enough people around us that think we're cool or helpful or brilliant or handsome...that we'll have passed the test.

The problem, though, is that this is NOT a test. There is no test.

We are loved because we just are. Not because we've passed the test. And we certainly don't need to prove it to anyone else.

We may, however, need to convince ourselves of it.

We (or, I, rather. I won't project my own shortcomings onto all of you) walk around with all this head-knowledge about the love of God, but there are many times that I live as if life were a test. As if my every action or inaction is an essay question and I have to articulate what it is about me that makes me whole.

Yesterday afternoon I saw X-Men 3: The Last Stand, and was convicted (Yes, convicted.) by one line. Charles and Logan were talking about Jean, and Charles was explaining ethically and scientifically why he had done what he'd done. Logan kept challenging his reasoning, and finally Charles looked at him calmly and confidently, and said kindly, "I don't have to explain myself to you." It wasn't defensive, it wasn't angry. He simply trusted and was secure in the fact that he'd done the rightest thing he possibly could.

If only I could be that secure in my identity as a child of God. If only I could come awake to reality, as opposed to living in this imagined oppression.

Perhaps it starts with that: the realization that reality is that in Christ, our identity is not up for grabs. The rest is a dream...a non-reality. About halfway through Isaac's talk tonight a song by the David Crowder Band kept scrolling through my mind—Come Awake. Let's come awake to reality: we are God's. And he doesn't need us to explain ourselves to be his.

Come Awake, by David Crowder Band
Are we left here on our own? Can you feel when your last breath is gone? Night is weighing heavy now—be quiet and wait for a voice that will say, "Come awake from sleep, arise! You were dead—become alive. Wake up; wake up! Open your eyes. Climb from your grave into the light."

Bring us back to life.

You are not the only one who feels like the only one. Night soon will be lifted, friend—just be quiet and wait for the voice that will say, "Come awake from sleep, arise! You were dead—become alive. Wake up; wake up! Open your eyes. Climb from your grave into the light."

Rise, rise, rise, rise, rise, rise, rise, rise, rise—to life. Rise, arise to life! Arise, arise, arise, rise, rise, arise, rise, shine, shine, oh... SHINE! (wake up wake up) The light will shine! (wake up wake up) Rise—light will shine. (wake up wake up) Shine, shine, shine.

He's shining on us now.