The Fulfillment of the Spirit

" Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news about Him spread throughout the region. He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath Day, He went into the synogogue, as was His custom.  And He stood up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to Him. Unrolling it, He found the place where it was written:  ' The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and to restore sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.' The eyes of everyone in the synogogue were fixed upon Him, and He began by saying to them, ' Today, this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.' " [Luke 4: 14-21].

Do you read this Scripture and wonder who Jesus is talking about?

The poor. The captives. The blind. The oppressed. Where do we find such people? These are not strangers in far away lands. No. . . .They are all of us!

My family was not poor when I was a child. We had means-- we had a home, we had a car, my father had a job, we had clothes and food, there were toys for the children, and books and music.

And yet, I was "poor".

In my heart, I was poor. No one ever hugged me or said, "I love you".

I had little to eat, not because of a lack of food in the household, but because of a lack of nurturing, from parents who did not care if I ate or not.

I left home too soon, before I was fully capable of supporting myself. I ate canned tuna for dinner, or rice and beans, and still I was always hungry. But I would not return home to ask for food. There was no going back.

In my soul, I was "poor". My parents would not take me to church. I thought that by taking away church, they could take away my Faith. Even as a young adult, I became afraid to enter a church, since this was forbidden in my family. I thought that it was good to obey my father and mother. It did not occur to me that my other Father would be looking for me and would always welcome me with open arms. I did not know that my heavenly Father could make me glad and show me how wonderful it is to be alive.

There was a poverty to my view of the future. I had no hope for tomorrow. At the same time, I could not even face my past. It was too painful. I was stuck in the present, trying to find food, to save money to make my escape, trying to keep myself out of harm's way. 

My trust in humankind began to wither. My poverty of spirit was so deep, I stopped speaking.

I began to act like a captive. I bargained for things for my room. I told them, 'I will tend to the garden, if I can just bring some flowers into my room.' I thought, maybe if I could look at something living and beautiful everyday, I will remember what it is to be alive. Because I was beginning to feel almost dead inside.

I tucked my Faith and my emotions and my gifts deep inside me, where no one could find them. In essence, I hid my soul. I became as Nothing. No one could touch my essential self. I was a self-imposed prisoner. I was oppressed, repressed.

I decided that I would rather split myself into various counterparts, than let any human being shape and mold me into their own image of me.  I became a house divided against itself. It did not occur to me that God could make me whole again. It did not occur to me that all these parts came from God, and that I was allowed to keep them, and no one could take them away.

And I was blind. Oh, so blind to the power of God. Because the family told me that there IS no God. Or that only losers and hypocrites need God -- who, in their eyes, was some kind of pathetic panacea, or mythical crutch. 

Really, God was always there, all those years. Only I did not always "see" Him. So here again, I was blind. I did not talk to Him, i.e., pray. No one had taught me to pray. And if I did talk to Him, conversationally, would people think I was crazy for talking to Someone I could not see? Someone I was not even sure was real?

And then my world collapsed. First my dad died. Then my best friend. Then, my mother-in-law. Then, my mother.

I needed strength to get through this. I could not do this alone. No mere human being could set me free, could release me from my oppression, could lift my blindness.

I asked God, "Father? Where are You? When I need You? Please come to me and show me that you are real."

And God came back into my life. Only He had really never left. But, I began noticing Him in my everyday life. I am no longer so blind to His power.

God has made me glad to be alive again. He has helped me to see Love and Hope where there used to be only poverty of spirit.

I am coming out of my prison, coming out of my shell. I can see daylight at the outer edge of the cave.

I am not whole yet. I have miles to go. But I can understand that God made each of us as One Body in Him.  All of our parts are valuable and beautiful. We need not hide in shame or in fear. God rejoices in all of us!

And no one can steal our soul. It is a beautiful gift. And it is ours to keep!

(c) Spiritual Devotional 2013. All Rights Reserved.

I see God and feel His presence in my life.