More Of Jesus

This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. We write for 5 minutes on a one-word prompt without heavy editing and see what happens. Today’s prompt is “more.”

We’ve been teaching my almost-14-month-old grandson baby sign. He can say “please,” “thank you,” “help,” “all done,” “milk” and “more.” Sometimes he gets them a little confused, and the sign he uses most often when he can’t quite get it right is “more.”

Zayne and his uncle Nathan

If he wants to go out in the yard to walk around he says “more.”

If he wants help stepping down onto the porch from the kitchen’s French doors he says “more.”

When we tell him and show him what the sign should be, he gets it right, but interesting that “more” is his default.

Sounds a lot like me. There’s always something more that I want. More time, more sunshine, more health, more vacations, more followers on my social media platforms more money to spend on more stuff!

I’m a Young Life baby. I began my personal walk with Jesus at a Young Life camp when I was 13. There’s a song we used to sing at our meetings.

I want more of Jesus, more and more and more.

I want more of Jesus than I ever had before.

I want more of His great love so rich and full and free

I want more of Jesus, so I’ll give Him more of me!

That’ll preach, won’t it?

My Journey to Jesus

I remember the day clearly. A group of us junior-highers were in the beautiful redwood forest of California, not too far from where we lived, for a weekend spring retreat at a Young Life camp. The year was 1975. The day: April 19.

Maybe my memory is not so clear, because I don’t remember the name of the man who spoke to us that weekend, and I don’t remember all of the fun activities we enjoyed, but I do remember this: God met me there that weekend.

I had been a church-goer all my life. I knew who Jesus was. I knew He had died on a cross and been raised from the dead. What I didn’t realize, though, is that He had done those things for me.

The speaker that weekend, at the end of one of his talks, challenged us to go out by ourselves around the camp and talk to God about what we had heard. I think it was the first time in my life that I truly, from my heart, talked to God. I finally realized that, good as I was, I was still a sinner. That evening, sitting on a big rock out in the middle of God’s glorious creation, I finally surrendered my life to Jesus. I no longer wanted to be in control. I wanted to be made clean and accept that gift of salvation that He offered. I was reborn. And it was glorious.

Did I see fireworks and feel a dramatic difference that night? No, the process of transformation is life long. In fact, not entirely sure about what I had just done, over the course of the next several months, I doubted my sincerity and asked Jesus to come into my heart many more times. I have a feeling He just smiled at me and said, “Child, I’m already here.”

What a relief to not be in control. Though I must say I do try to wrest that control back every once in a while (OK, more like all the time). Love, joy, peace, patience; all of these are fruit of the Spirit now living within me. Where would I be today if not for His grace?

“Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:15).

Thankful today for:

210. hdtv

211. working internet

212. an approaching weekend