Yet, you have not returned to me.

“Yet, you have not returned to me.”

I stumbled upon that phrase not once, not twice, but five times in the same chapter as I started diving into Amos, the minor prophet.

Five times, the Lord allowed utter chaos to tip into their daily lives.

Five times, He allowed Israel to repent of their ways.

Five times, He held back on pulling out His sword of vengeance.

Each time, He found a people who had grown cold to obedience.

Each time, He met children who had gotten comfortable in their blessings.

Each time, He watched the blessed quickly become oppressors of their own kind.

As I read, I quickly realized the warnings weren’t falling on untrained ears. In fact, Amos was speaking in public gatherings, to followers of the Mosaic law.

Through today’s lens, He would be speaking to twice-weekly-church-attending, tithe-and-offering-giving believers who failed at one thing: returning to Him.

That’s me.

And that might be you too.

The point the Lord was making was that the practicing Christian’s Achilles’ heel was assuming that proximity equaled obedience. Once the rhythms of church became second nature to us, we became more susceptible to being preyed upon.

That’s when mercy goes before judgment, trying to wake us up. Yet we often give the enemy more credit than he’s due.

When life throws everything at us, including the kitchen sink, perhaps the Lord is dialing our number, but we refuse to pick up.

You stepped out in faith on a divine appointment, but if you’re honest, you’re a bit disappointed by the returns. Why not pick up?

Obedience in your business is costing you a lot, while the audience you’ve been praying for is few and far between. Why not pick up?

Every sense of normalcy you’ve known has been threatened. Why not pick up?

Life throws everything at you, including the kitchen sink, but you don’t understand it, because this is the season you’ve been most disciplined. Why not pick up?

For every gain in your personal life, you take three losses. Why not pick up?

Dare I suggest that some of those unfortunate circumstances might be an attempt to get your attention.

How many times will we force the Lord to intervene forcefully in our lives because we’d grown deaf to our call to repentance?

One time?

Perhaps twice.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s not up to us to play Bob the Builder in the soulish affairs of life.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m not inviting you to settle into a season of inaction. But let’s revisit the order:

Redirection.

Repentance.

Restart.

We can't just jump into restart. To know God is to know that He is a God of order.

I’m at a point in life where I can't afford any more missed calls. Trust is literally all I have left. I’ve been frustrated beyond words, grieved, saddened, and asked a lot of “why, Lord? in the process.

But in this season, I’ve also realized that He’ll pull the rug out from under me for my own good.

Life is hell in more ways than I can explain — and yet the Bible became sweeter.

Its promises became dear to my heart.

Its whispers wipe away my tears.

And its truth anchors my steps.

Maybe what caused your distraction looks nothing like my shortcomings, but in the end they all revert to the same roots:

Lust of the flesh.

Lust of the eyes.

Pride of life

I’ve concluded that I don’t ever want to need five attempts from the Lord to focus my eyes back on Him.

Perhaps, neither should you.

Life is sprinting toward its final meeting with God. My advice: don’t despise your appointment with the God of mercy, because one day, you’ll stand in front of the Judge.

With love always,

Chris