When Heaven Calls You Holy
Well, glory be! Butter my biscuit, slap on a big ol’ glob of jelly, and call me blessed! Ok, now, buttercup, pull up a rocking chair, because this here one’s gonna sit on your heart like a sleepy barn cat on a warm porch rail.
“To all in Rome who are loved by God and called to be his holy people…” (Romans 1:7). Now that right there is Paul basically ‘a-sayin’, “Hey y’all, saints, every last one of you.” And I know some of us hear saint and think, “Well, surely he ain’t ‘a-talkin’ about me. I yelled at that the toaster this morning.” But yes, sugarplum, he sure is ‘a-talkin’ about you!
See, the moment you give your life to Jesus, He right away stamps you as “Set Apart.” Holy. A saint faster than a squirrel can outrun a hound dog. You don’t have to wait for a church committee to vote, light a candle, or carve your face into a stained-glass window. Nope. God has already done decided it!
And before you can say, “But I don’t really feel holy,” let me remind you: neither does a pig feel clean right after a bath, but it is clean, at least for about three seconds before it finds mud again. Holiness isn’t about how you feel. It’s about what Jesus went and did for you.
You don’t earn sainthood like you earn a gold star in kindergarten. You don’t climb a ladder, pass a test, or wait for some bishop to tap you on the head with one o’ them there fancy sticks. Jesus did the work. You just said, “Yes.”
And listen here, your relationship with God is between you and Him. You don’t need to come confess to some preacher or priest or anybody else. Friend, those fellas don’t have enough hours in the day to hear all of everybody else’s messes. The Bible says to confess it to God and ask for forgiveness and then confess to each other for encouragement. But forgiveness? Well, now, that’s right in Jesus’ department.
You won’t stand before God and give an account for your mama or your daddy or your cousin Earl or that neighbor who collects lawn gnomes down the street. Just you. And if you belong to Jesus, He is already ‘a-callin’ you a saint.
So, stop ‘a-waitin’ for human approval. Stop ’a-thinkin’ you need more qualifications. If you’re His, then you’re holy. Now, go on and live like it, chin up, shoulders back, like a rooster who finally realized he’s been a rooster all along.
Lord, thank You for calling me Yours even when I feel more like a confused goat than a graceful gazelle. Help me live like the saint You say I am: set apart, forgiven, and full of Your grace. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.
Well, mosey on along now, you saint you, get to struttin’ off this here porch like a chicken who just discovered she can fly even if it’s only three feet. God’s got some real big things all stored up and ‘a-waitin’ just for you!
With joy,
Gwen
