We’ve often heard, and in conservative circles respectfully use, the expression “the thin blue line” in appreciation for the law enforcement professionals who keep us safe.
While progressives spent recent years screaming “defund the police” in response to abuses real or imagined — usually the latter — and then cowering in the corner, trying to absolve themselves from blame regarding the horrors their misguided virtue signaling and pandering to criminals under the painfully unfunny joke of their being the true victims unleashed, conservatives stood firm. We thankfully will now once again have a President who respects and supports law enforcement.
There is another thin line in life the wise embrace. It is the line of blood trickling from a cross on which an innocent Man hung in our place so we could enjoy eternity with Him. When life becomes seemingly too much to bear, sorrows and burdens defying all efforts to relieve them oppressing us, this thin red line is our only genuine hope.
The new episode of my Cephas Hour podcast talks about this from the viewpoint of someone who is presently going through the wringer, and has been for some time. I freely admit my faith has taken quite the beating lately. Yet, as the first song states, I still believe.
You can listen to the podcast on demand at its website (https://cephashour.com/2024/12/24/cephas-hour-episode-136-release-date-december-24-2024/) or wherever you get your podcasts other than Spotify. They still don’t get it. Hope it helps, and thanks.
It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these shows. The primary reason is that life has been rather kicking the stuffing out of me on multiple fronts over the past few months. I’ll spare you the details; suffice it to say that heavy pressure on multiple fronts has left me broke, perilously close to broken, and not a little embittered. It’s not exactly a conducive environment for recording spiritually uplifting podcasts when your own faith has become tattered and shredded.
Yet perhaps this is the best time to do such a podcast. The Psalms are replete with King David and other writers crying out and pouring out their hearts to God, sometimes not without a definite tinge of anger at the Almighty. I do not believe God lacks understanding of why we sometimes yell at Him, although we need to remember He reserves the right to yell back.
There are times for at least some of us — I suspect far more of us than are willing to admit it is the case publicly — when we are hanging onto faith by a thread. Whatever the situation may be — the death of a loved one, a broken heart, a rough patch at work, a search for work period, the inability to pay your bills, and so on — wherein life is dropping the hammer on you, the natural and normal reaction is not “thank you, sir, may I have another.”
Reading Biblical accounts of the saints rejoicing for being considered worthy enough to suffer for Jesus’ Name is one thing. It’s quite another to be suffering for entirely different reasons, the pain and loss threatening to choke life itself out of you.
The best we can do is hang on to the thin red line, the trickle of blood descending from the Cross. The thin red line is a lifeline to cling to when you can’t hold on to anything else in life any longer. The thin red line reminds us that when we cry out, “Do You see what I’m going through, Lord? Do You know what I’m going through?” the answer is, “Yes, yes I do.”
When you’re in survival mode, it can be challenging to remember you still need to feed your brain just as much as you need to feed your body. This is where fellowship comes in for the believer.
Never isolate yourself from fellowship. It can be challenging when you carry the scars left behind by previous unfortunate encounters when those who should have been by your side instead spent their time surveying your back to determine exactly where the best location might be in which to plunge that knife. We have all suffered at the hands of our supposed supporters. But you still need to reach out. Living in spiritual isolation never works. I’m not referring to spending time alone with the Lord in prayer, but rather trying to live and work out your daily life in Him as a 24/7 solo act.
As we make our way through this oddball amusement park commonly referred to as life, we are well advised to learn to differentiate between content and information. In our digital age, there is an incredible amount of available content. Unfortunately, very little of it genuinely informs.
A common mistake of youth, be it generation past, present, or future, is the inability, fueled by an understandable lack of experience, to differentiate between content and information. The person who has not been there and done that, and for whom this is indeed their first rodeo, lacks the filtering mechanism that one can gain solely through experience to tell what provides mere confirmation of assumptions based on nothing solid and that which supplies authentic enlightenment.
Again, think of the thin red line to which we must cling if we are to navigate our way through life’s storms successfully. Truth, along with grace and peace, is found in Jesus Christ. Let us pursue knowledge in following Him, not with a spirit of self-flagellation of how far we have to go or how many times we have fallen short, but instead rejoicing in how far we have come, taking delight in truths learned along the way.
We live in a world where people want to be something without being something. It’s a pride thing.
It is true that we are fearfully and wonderfully made in God’s image, but that doesn’t mean we are automatically to be feared because we’re so wonderful. We’re not.
If we are all we need to be as we are, what was the purpose of Jesus dying on the Cross? The hymn says, “Just as I am / Without one plea / But that Thy blood / Was shed for me,” not, “Just as I am / It’s all good!”
Knowing who we are in Jesus means knowing who we are not. We are qualified to wear a crown solely because the Prince of Peace wore a crown of thorns so we wouldn’t be required to do the same.
