Get Inspired

Do you ever get inspired by people?  I do.  I gather these little gifts of inspiration that are passed to me all of the time.  I hold them in my heart.  The inspiration feels like it was made for me and travels into my heart like it has a key to the chest holding my dearest treasures.

I get inspired by God stories.  I get inspired by girlie stories.  I get inspired by books that I read.  I get inspired by movies about real people.  I love inspiration because it is something I can pass on.  When I am inspired, my mind starts rolling through its rolodex of whom I can share the treasure with.  My deepest desire is to pass on the right kind of inspiration at the right time.

James, the half brother of Jesus, is an inspiring gentleman. This morning I was thinking about James’ ability to intuitively gather all of the bias, motivations and intentions of those around him and, through the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, deliver a resolution that loops up the group in uniformity in Christ.  (i.e., the Jerusalem Council).  Wow.  I’m inspired.

Have you ever see the movie Miss Potter?  The life of Beatrix Potter gives me the idea that I can choose to do anything with the inspiration that resides inside of me.  I love Beatrix’ imagination and determination to be who she was made to be.  Or, have you read The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis?  I love the idea that God reveals to each of us the unknown in our own stories.  The knowledge of the invisible work He has done is for our own marvel.  “No one is told any story but their own.”

As for girlie stories, have you ever gotten a call in the night from your best friend where she shares in an intimate way how God moved through her in a powerful way against all odds?  This kind of inspiration draws me to be on my knees in prayer for my friends.  The knowledge of her experience builds my faith in a strong way.  I desire to see His work in her life and I want to be a part of her victories.

As for God stories, you are one and I am one and your neighbor is one.  We are all walking God stories, either already told or waiting to be written.  I can’t help to think that He made us this way so that we can take each other from glory to glory.  I hate to think that we all are guilty of hiding or sometimes smoldering our light.  Don’t do that.  Keep your heart open to what is meant to inspire you.  When the moment is right, write inspiration into the heart of someone else.

14 “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.  Matthew 5:14-16.

18 But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.  2 Corinthians 3:18.

The Truth About the Lion Who Sometimes Makes you Limp

“. . . Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world!”

Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face.  “There it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost.  Tell me your sorrows.”

Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman.  And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and all of their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert.  And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis.  And also, how very long it was since he had had anything to eat.

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.

“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.

“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.

“What on earth do you mean?  I’ve just told you there was at least two the first night, and — ”

“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”

“How do you know?”

“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued.  “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis.  I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead.  I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept.  I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time.  And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”

“It was I.”

“But what for?”

“Child,” said the Voice, I am telling you your story, not hers.  I tell no one any story but his own.”

“Who are you?” asked Shasta.

“Myself,” said the voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again, “Myself” , loud and clear and gay: and then the third time “Myself”, whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if leaves rustled with it.

Excerpt from The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis.