Came across this version of Matt Maher’s “Inheritance” yesterday. What a find!
Happy Easter!
Lyrics:
VERSE 1 Right from the very start You had me in Your heart Nothing but dust and yet You gave me life and breath Loved me before I knew For nothing that I could do You wrapped Your Word in flesh What an inheritance
CHORUS You don’t withhold a thing You were the offering I don’t deserve it It doesn’t make sense What an inheritance
VERSE 2 There on a lonely hill 10,000 debts fulfilled Heard in Your final breath Last will and testament Father, Your work is done Now let Your kingdom come Death has been laid to rest What an inheritance
POST-CHORUS 1 Oh, oh, oh What an inheritance
VERSE 3 Spirit of life and truth Filling the upper room Beating within my chest What an inheritance Counsel and closest friend What an inheritance
CHORUS 2 Freely You give to me Freely I will receive I don’t deserve it It doesn’t make sense What an inheritance
One thing I’m grateful for is the availability of creating playlists. They are a tool for wellness and many other things.
My Easter playlist is one of my favorites. Usually each year I edit it, typically by adding new songs. I’m not doing that this year. I’m enjoying the familiarity of the existing 20 songs, letting them remind me why this week matters.
Most of the songs were released over a decade ago, and probably half of them never made it to radio. They are hidden gems to my spirit.
I encourage you to check out my playlist for two reasons:
Finished listening to Seeing with the Eyes of the Heart today. One of the last discussion points centered on the reality we all encounter of facing aloneness.
Adyashanti stated he believed almost no one understood Jesus, making him one of the most alone figures in spiritual literature. To explain what he meant, his reply included these thoughts about aloneness.
Engaging spirituality in an authentic way will bring us to encountering our aloneness many, many, many times…Ironically the greatest feeling of belonging comes through these deep and profound encounters with our aloneness. It’s so paradoxical that our greatest sense of belonging comes by going through those doorways of aloneness…We almost always try to do end runs around aloneness, finding surrogates for the experience of aloneness rather than really meeting it…We’re all one. That’s a really great and nice thing. But we all are simultaneously very unique expressions of the one. We all have our very unique journey that is not exactly like anyone else’s…Aloneness, in the ends, leads through the door not only to connectedness but a kind of spiritual autonomy.
I relate.
There is an aloneness on the journey of making your faith yours, not anyone else’s. Think of any faith decision you’ve made to this point that was lifechanging or formative. It came down to you making that choice by yourself. Those decisions, those moments rooted you, grounded you, expanded the territory of your faith, and girded your faith in such a way that it no longer relied on another person’s faith.
Yet, because of that, you now have the strength, the maturity, or the allure to those in your faith community that draws people to inquire how you got it. And the connectedness is more about the kingdom than you. Your aloneness that you walked through, whether you wanted to or not, brightens your image of God. It’s attractive while also preparatory for your next round of aloneness.
These thoughts remind me of this quote:
“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” -Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words
Beautiful and terrible await you in aloneness. Don’t be afraid.
Roughly a third of the way in, Adyashanti asked to address the topic of forgiveness. His thoughts were striking.
At one level I think the greatest forgiveness is when we really see that there’s no need for forgiveness because everything is inherently, consistently forgiven. It’s human beings that decide we are sort of God’s arbitrators of who can and cannot be forgiven, and it disconnects us from the experience of the way forgiveness works in the universe.
No need for forgiveness seems utopian. Yet, his reasoning is captivating. He’s not saying there is no literal need for forgiveness. He’s suggesting we must task ourselves to learn how it works, first from God and then between humans.
Some of Jesus’ last words on the cross were “Forgive them for they know not what they do,” referring to the people who put him there. If you are on the cross and you can forgive the people who put you there, that’s a pretty big forgiveness. You’re forgiving hate, and you’re forgiving violence…there’s a great teaching in that. If he couldn’t have forgiven them, he could have never been free from them. He would have been trapped in their hate because he couldn’t forgive their hate. He would have been trapped in their violence because he couldn’t forgive their violence…Ignorance can take some pretty violent forms…Most people are pretty much doing what they can do. What they are doing is an exact reflection of the state of their consciousness.
The striking image of these thoughts is being trapped. Couple that with being trapped in hate or violence with the foundation being the other person’s ignorance, forgiveness not only seems possible but desirable.
If we have no forgiveness, our participation in the world is seared with anger and hate, even if we are working with something that is very necessary and good. This motivation seems to come from fear rather than love.
May our searing be exposed. May love overcome our fear.
(At the end of February, I shared a few posts about Jesus’ statement “I Am the Door.” Here’s another one by my friend, guest blogger Mark Stanifer.)
I came across the image in this post during a season of transition. It mirrored exactly what I was feeling—standing in an empty room with only doors in every direction. No furniture. No guidance. Only choices.
That year, my word was co-operate. And the message became clear: this wasn’t about finding the one “right” door. It was an invitation to move, to trust, to co-operate with what God was doing in me.
I had recently left a corporate America role after 20 years. It was a massive shift. I wanted clarity, direction before moving—instead, I had doors. And silence. No signs. No indication of what was behind the doors. Simply doors awaiting my move.
At first, I felt stuck. Fear kept me frozen in place—fear of making the wrong move, of wasting time, of choosing poorly. I told myself I was being careful or wise, but really, I was just afraid. And that fear masked itself as waiting on God, when in reality, He was waiting on me.
What shifted for me was this: God didn’t want me to wait for answers. He wanted me to walk in partnership with Him. The movement itself was the point. So I began opening doors to see what was on the other side.
The movement did not lead to immediate results. Some doors were dead ends. Some were locked. Some simply lead me back to the same room. But the benefit was more than the results. It was in the movement itself. Because I learned that He wasn’t waiting behind a specific door—He was walking through each one with me. And, eventually I opened a door that lead to a whole new room to explore.
In John 10, Jesus says, “I am the door.” That line has stayed with me. He doesn’t just point to the way forward—He is the way forward. He is the door, the First Door.
The door, I’ve realized, isn’t the destination. It’s the turning point. It marks the moment of trust. And it’s the threshold through which partnership begins—both with Jesus and with who He wants me to become.
This journey has been deeply personal. It’s not about replicating someone else’s story or steps. The doors in front of me are mine to open. And what they lead to—growth, challenge, disappointment, doubts, pruning, joy—is uniquely tied to who I’m becoming. As you face and open your doors, your learning will likely be different.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
Don’t wait for the perfect door. Choose one and walk through it.
Courage is choosing in spite of the fear.
The wisdom comes from the choosing, not the waiting.
God isn’t waiting on the other side. He’s walking through each door with me.
The door is part of the growth. That’s where the pruning happens so I can bear more fruit.
This is a partnership. We’re co-creating my future, as I co-operate with how He’s at work in me.
Jesus said He came to give us life to the full. That life begins by first walking through Him—He is the First Door. The only way to true life is through Jesus. Once we’ve stepped through Him, we can trust He’s with us through every other door we open, no matter what’s on the other side.
John Gregory 