Skip to main content

Spirit of Sonship

Romans 8: 9-15 “You, however, are controlled not by the sinful nature but by the Spirit, if the Spirit of God lives in you.  And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Christ.  But if Christ is in you, your body is dead because of sin, yet your spirit is alive because of righteousness…. For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by Him we cry, “Abba, Father.”

Praise God that we can turn to the Spirit.  Praise God we have been given the Spirit of sonship.  But as sons and daughters of anyone, every so often is it easy to rebel.  To say, I don’t care, I everyone else is doing it.  When we asked Christ into our hearts, and the Holy Spirit entered our bodies, it took up residence in us.  It began a good work in us.  Just like our earthly parents raised us to be good, moral individuals, it is still easy to stray from what they have taught us and what we know is true and righteous. 

I remember the first time I ever said a bad word.  I was around 6 and living in Long Beach, California.  We lived across the street from the school and I can recall going across a big bridge that went over a very busy road to go and see my sister who was in the middle school.  As I would pass over that bridge, graffitied everywhere were cuss words.  I had asked my mom what they meant and she told me that they were bad words that I was not supposed to ever say.  So, being a kid, I went into the bathroom that night and held up my middle finger 3 times and said the f-word twice.  After I did it, I was gripped by fear, I ran out of that bathroom and told my mommy right away and cried into her chest.  The spirit that my parents had instilled in my was telling me that what I had done was wrong. 

The first time that we do something wrong, we know that it is wrong.  We are convicted, we feel terrible for disobeying our father.  It is at this time that we have to make the decision, do we run to him and throw our arms out confessing what we did and how terrible it was, or do we try to hide it from God? 

Parents always seem to know if you did something that you weren’t supposed to do.  The first time I drank when I was underage (and the last time too), I was at my cousin’s apartment for the fourth of July.  He was mixing up drinks and my older sister (also underage) and I were drinking them.  I remember my sister writing a note to one of her friends telling them what all she drank, and my parents of course found said note.  I also remember her lying to protect my cousin.  Since she lied, I had to lie too.  It was terrible.  I hated lying and at that time, I had to choose who I was going to be loyal to, my sister or my parents.  Was I going to tell my parents the truth or keep my sister’s secret?  Ultimately I chose to keep the secret and it ate at me for years and years and years.  Finally when I got up enough guts to tell about what REALLY  happened that day, my sister had move out and was married and I was in college.  When I did tell my parents, they said that they knew.  That was it, they knew and they appreciated me telling them.  If my earthly parents know stuff that I have been struggling to keep a secret from, don’t you think that God, our Heavenly Father knows too? 

We have the choice when we do wrong.  We are convicted usually right then and there and we can either (wo)man up and confess or we can ignore that feeling and then usually it is so much easier to do something else bad.  When we became a son/daughter of Christ, we said, please take me into your family, I want to love you, honor your name and be a good example for this family. We didn’t go in with the intention to scar and mar the name of God.  Fortunately, we are allowed to cry “Abba, Father” to God.  He has given us a Spirit of sonship.  We chose that spirit and lets not let our Father down. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Center of God's Will

I was very blessed to go over to some new friend’s home last night and talk with them and others about life in general.   As the topic turned solely to missions late in the evening (as this couple used to travel around bringing the good news to kids around the world, and then lived in a different country for 3 years sharing the gospel) I said something like, it must feel amazing to be right in the center of God’s Will.   To have to rely on Him for protection from the most random events; to have to rely on God to take you out of situations that are dangerous; to rely on Him for every provision that you are given; and most importantly, to be brining the message of Christ to all nations under heaven.   Can you imagine?   Knowing that you are supposed to be right where you are, doing what you are doing, right when you are doing it because you have to, and have chosen to, rely on God for every little aspect of your life.   Well friends, I am not out spreading the me...

Daily Bread

I have a dog.  He is cute , but he is still a dog.  That means that he is reliant on me.  He likes me no matter what, If I am not around him, he flips out a little and has anxiety.  If others try to claim him or take care of him when I'm not around, he growls and barks at them.  My dog's name is Spike .  He is a Yorkie.  I promised my husband if he got me a girlie dog, I would name it something masculine so he wouldn't have to go outside and yell fru fru when calling our dog.  Spike knows that I take care of him.  He knows that my husband and I are the two that take care of him the most.  The kids try to play with him and he runs to us with the toys.  The kids try to take him out and he only comes back when one of us calls him.  He knows our voice and respects our voice.  He also is needy.  Like he relies on us to take him outside to do his business and to feed him and give him water.  Spike will let us know ...

The longest route...

There is no easy way around it, sometimes I take the hardest possible route to get anywhere.   During our re-make of our house, I purchase bar stools.   Our counter island is tall and so I measured t – it was 36 inches from the ground.   Therefore I purchased 29 inch bar stools thinking they would be perfect…   And they would have been had I measured from the ground to the trim that lines the bottom of the 36”.   In reality, I had 29” to play with and the stools that I purchased were tight against the lip under the island.   I put one together and realized my folly.   Looking on-line, I didn’t find any more that were comparable to the price I had paid and the style that I wanted but were only 24” tall.   When my husband came home, we decided to put the other three stools together and just deal with them.   On Sunday morning, before church, my husband took the bar stools outside and proceeded to cut 5” off each leg to make us 24” bar stool...