We hear countless millions of words in a lifetime. Some merely to inform or entertain, some to encourage and inspire, still others result in eruptions of laughter. As you well know, there are also words we hear that discourage, disappoint, wound, or damage.

A myriad of words mingled through the years. Most long forgotten, while others distinctly remembered.

Then there is the Word. Words that are divinely inspired, God-breathed – His very breath.

If you’ve been sitting in a church pew since you were on your Mama’s lap – and even if you hadn’t – you’ve probably heard immeasurable words from the Word.

But what was the result of these words? Have they been remembered, or are they long forgotten? Have they inspired life-change, or did they fall among thorns? 

Worries of the World

I sit beside my man on a Sunday morning, and the life-giving words of the Word fall on eager ears and I vow to remember. But then I walk out through the church doors and in through my own, and three pairs of eyes look to me for lunch, the breakfast dishes still litter the counter, and tomorrow is a new week and I’m not ready to begin it all over again.

And as the week goes on, all the tomorrows loom large and the worries steadily creep in.

Appointments and homework and exercise and making lunches and scrubbing toothpaste off the sink and three square meals a day and bedtime stories and keeping a budget and falling wearily into bed while whispering an exhausted prayer- and how will I get it all done?

Oh yes – what was that I heard on Sunday?

The Word is choked out and becomes unfruitful.

The Deceitfulness of Riches

Again on Sunday I sit attentive and eagerly drink in the water of the Word and again I vow to remember. But when I walk through the door and the comforts of this home with this life in all it’s abundant riches settle on me, I quickly forget.

Bubble baths and warm, buttery popcorn and a good book. The deceitfulness of riches erase the reality of the poor and the orphans and the sick and lulls me into apathy.

Oh yes – what was that I heard on Sunday?

The Word is choked out and becomes unfruitful.

The Desire for Other Things

Another Sunday and I’m listening - now frantically writing the words across the lines and again I vow to remember. But Sunday afternoon finds me wandering around this home with a critical eye. If we only had … If only we could …

The world whispers discontent and the cravings for what I do not have grow stronger. Things become my pursuit, and if I only had this I’d be happy.

Oh yes – what was that I heard on Sunday?

The Word is choked out and becomes unfruitful.

How not to let the worries of this life, the apathy of riches, and the desire for other things choke out the power of the Word?

5 Ways to Allow the Word to Bear Fruit in Your Life

Write it Down
See the truths in your own hand. When you hear the Word taught, write down what you hear. Not only will you have it to go back to later, but writing the words helps reinforce the truths in your mind and increases retention.

Memorize it
When the Word leaps off the page, write it down on an index card and carry it with you. Pull it out when you are waiting in line, working in the kitchen, or walking through the aisles of the grocery store. Say it aloud when you are able. Move the words from your mind to your heart by committing them to memory.

Set a Time
Develop a habit by setting a time daily to read the Word. Perhaps in the morning before the rest of your house awakens?Perhaps in the evening after little ones are tucked snugly into bed? Perhaps during nap time a few moments can be set aside in quiet? Whatever the time, carve it out of your schedule and diligently guard it as your time alone with the Lord.

Put it into Practice
Don’t merely be a hearer of the Word and quickly forget. Be a doer of the Word, allowing the Holy Spirit to transform you into the image of Christ as you put into practice the truths found in Scripture. As you live out the Word, you are changed from glory to glory.

Develop a Habit
Cultivate a habit. Over days, weeks, months, and years develop a practice of feasting on the Word. Write it down often, memorize it faithfully, commit to your designated time, and ask the Lord to help you integrate it into your life. Over time a habit is born and a life is transformed.

We had the T.V. on in the background as we sat around the table with a deck of cards. Each time my turn passed my eyes went back to the screen.

Riveted.

It was a reality show about the World’s Deadliest Roads. Winding through the Himalayan Mountains, this particular road featured very narrow sections with low rock ledges overhanging on one side and a drop of thousands of feet on the other. The cameras frequently showed images of vehicles that had fallen over the cliff to their demise.

In this episode the camera crew was following a truck carrying precious cargo down this deadly road. Cargo wrapped in sand and straw. Cargo with which every effort was made to ensure it wouldn’t be damaged in transit.

At any moment the truck’s tires could have crossed over the unbarricaded edge and the two people inside would have plummeted to their deaths along with the precious cargo.

What was so valuable that made this endeavor worth risking their lives?

Tucked securely in the bed of the truck was a statue of a Hindu goddess.

With black skin and painted eyes and a hideous red tongue sticking out of her mouth, this idol made of stone was being transported to a group of people deep in the mountains who were anxiously awaiting her arrival.

Their saviour. Their object of worship.

I stared in disbelief.

I know it to be true, particularly in other parts of the world, but to actually see people convinced an object was a god?! Seems ridiculous in our advanced culture. They were people who were willing to risk lives for an image made of stone. Unbelievable. How could a painted lump of stone be worth potential loss of life?

The truck continued to wind through the mountains stopping frequently to ensure the statue was intact.

But are we much different?

Sure, our idols aren’t made of wood or stone, hideously painted to resemble some sort of imaginary goddess. But what about those things we hold onto so tightly at the cost of the things most important in life?

The pursuit of money at the expense of time with our children.

The desire for more at the expense of contentment.

The need to be right at the expense of relationships.

The longing for peace at the expense of overlooking deep-rooted sin.

The need for order and structure and plans at the expense of walking in the Spirit.

The dependence on normalcy and routine at the expense of taking risks for God into His grand plan for our lives.

The addiction to pleasing others at the expense of pleasing God.

The compulsion to be loved at the expense of living in purity before God.

The obsession to remember at the expense of forgiveness and freedom.

There is a cost and a risk of devestating loss for refusing to let go idols in our own lives – refusing to carry them down the road of life. The road we travel is narrow indeed. Scripture says few will find it. There is no room for idols on this road. Everything that makes it’s way into the place only God should have in our lives should be thrown aggressively over the edge.

Idols must be knocked off their perch – shattered – destroyed. The bottom of a couple thousand foot drop is thier perfect resting place.

I won’t keep you in suspense. The hideous statue of the Hindu goddess arrived in one piece and the people celebrated with a very elaborate ceremony in worship to their new diety. At first glance, the story had a happy ending.

But it was so very sad.  

How are you, perhaps unknowingly, celebrating and worshiping idols in your own life? How can you intentionally destroy those things that occupy the place of God in your heart?

He whispers accusations in our ears.

“You’re not good enough.”

“You could have done better.”

“Look at her life – why can’t you be more like her?”

The words sink deep and when we choose to entertain them – to roll them over in our minds again and again - they make their way into the fibre of our being and become part of who we tell ourselves we are.  

We exchange truth for lies.

We should expect nothing less from the father of lies. He is the accuser of the brethren.

Day and night the accuser whispers accusations against us … before the throne of God.  

But …

Christ has already taken that list of accusations out of the way and cancelled it with His blood by nailing it to the cross.

Done.

Nailed to the cross.

Remembered no more.  

What if the accusations are true? We fail and fall and mess up and get tangled in our own flesh, and in those times the accusations he makes before the throne may be accurate.

But …

If we run to the throne of grace first, and confess it to Him before the enemy has a chance to establish his accusations, we are forgiven. The certificate of debt consisting of decrees against us is cancelled. 

What has the enemy accused you of – whether it be true or untrue? What have you allowed to become part of your belief system about yourself?

A new year means new beginnings.

Choose to start this year believing Christ has cancelled every accusation against you. It was finished at the cross.

Forgiven.

Cancelled.

Done.

When a new year dawns, I’m completely unprepared.

On the first day of 2012 I spend most of the day in bed with the same flu that has made its way through many households. My head pounds and my body aches and my heart feels the same.

I’m not ready for this new year.

So unlike me.

New year is usually my favourite time of year. I love the idea of a new beginnings, setting new goals, and mustering new determination to move forward, climb higher, and dig deeper. Most years I embrace a new calendar with renewed energy, vigour, and resolve to be and do better.

But the dawn of 2012 only finds me burying myself deeper under the blankets.

I have no goals set – haven’t even given them a thought. The things I had hoped to have accomplished over the Christmas holidays are left unchecked on my list. The organization projects around the house, the inspiring blog posts, and the Bible study I’d hoped to finish are all left undone.

When I finally make my way down the stairs mid-afternoon, the Lego and pencil crayons I have to step over only serve as more evidence of my disorganized state.

I wonder what a year that begins this way will bring? I wonder what 2012 holds for this house, these kids, this marriage, and for my walk with Him?

Only He knows the end from the beginning.

But then I wonder if she’s right. Does trying harder only bring harder trials?

I’ve certainly done my fair share of trying harder. And I’ve noticed one thing: the harder I try, the harder I fall. Try harder to keep my patience. Try harder to keep this house from falling apart. Try harder to love better and give more and serve from a purer heart.

Trying harder only resulted in falling harder and failing faster.

Apart from Him I can do nothing.  

It’s only through Him, bowing low in humility, surrendered in complete dependence, that we achieve greatness. Christ in us – that’s the secret.

Recent years of new beginnings have been characterized by strong resolve and redoubled effort for me, and haven’t I failed in more ways than I can count? March usually brings exhaustion and a resignation and a remembrance that I can’t do it all on my own.

What if a year that begins with resting would continue with resting in Him? What would happen if instead of trying harder we all decided to lean heavier into Him? What if instead of goals planned across the months in sheer determination, we followed His Spirit one step at a time in sheer faith?

How would the year then unfold?

Dare to find out with me?