I read these words this morning.
They are not new. They are Sunday School verses, these ones. Drilled into a good Christian kid. Repeated, reminded and diligently studied as an adult.
But this morning they felt new.
This morning they stood up quietly. Humbly. Like the child outside the principal's office, best work in hand, waiting for the prized Gold Sticker of recognition.
This morning they spoke into the tumbled up space of my Greater Sydney Lockdown.
Without blame or accusation they gently nudged my spirit and asked: Where is your treasure today?
And I came up blank.
I know where it should be.
But have you noticed how lockdown shakes our priorities from the neatly arranged agendas we've set in place and tips everything out on the floor?
Our angst and worry, our frustration and boredom, they all reveal how we've propped our good and Godly sounding treasures with a plethora of other good and busy occupations. When it comes to weighing the daily 'I wish I could.... but lockdown won't let me' complaint against the the immovability of the gospel, we realise something. And it's not that startling, really. Somehow, in all the comfortable spaces we've lived in before now, we have unconsciously, thoughtlessly - accidentally even - replaced the treasures of Christ with lesser shiny things. And our hearts are struggling.
Our hearts were meant to beat in time with that of the Almighty God. Our hearts were meant to seek and love and be sought and loved by Him. Our hearts were meant to walk in adventurous trust in His Spirit and His Son. This is where our heart longs to be.
Lockdown strips back the clutter. It turns down the noise - if we let it - and our hearts are shown to beat for the treasures we've collected, whatever they may be.
Where is your treasure today?
The question remains hanging and my heart nudges me to respond. I wonder whether I'll let these words into my lockdown, offer them a seat and give them that Gold Sticker for work well done?