It thrills me to see the miraculous. Signs and signals.
My flesh hungers for this. The spectacular. Or I rush to the political arena. The rant, debate, and atrocity satisfy me somehow in a wicked way.
I fool myself into thinking a healing or apparition will somehow make my faith stronger. It never does — unless I embrace the FIRST SIGN.
If I do not see Christ,
How he lived and loved,
How the nails drove straight through his flesh,
How his blood soaked the earth,
How he came back to life.
If I don’t recognize the high price paid for my soul,
With the innocence of the Son of God,
Then all signs and miracles are of no use to me. They bounce off me.
Nothing can enter a hardened heart.
TEN lepers were healed… and only ONE returned.
But if the Gospel message cuts my heart open — to feel, bleed, and understand,
Then I will see many, many, many more signs of God.
If the FIRST SIGN is forgotten, all else is useless.
If the FIRST SIGN lives in me
I too become a sign. So that men might believe and be saved,
And I paticipate in the greatest miracle of all,
The one that exceeds all others,
The miracle of a life transformed by Christ Jesus, my Lord and Savior.
Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then said Jesus, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” And he said to him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.”
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