TD Jakes - Leveling Place
In the Gospel of Saint Luke, chapter 18, verses 9 through 14, that’s where we’re going to level up this morning. Yes, that’s going to be a leveling place: the Gospel of Saint Luke, chapter 18, verses 9 through 14. When you have it, say Amen. And he spoke this parable unto certain ones which trusted in themselves—that’s who he’s talking to: people who trust in themselves that they were righteous and despised others. Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican.
The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself: «God, I thank Thee that I am not as other men are.» Some people build their whole ministry around talking about other people. «I thank You that I’m not as other men are: extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I possess.» And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, «God, be merciful to me, a sinner.» I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone that exalteth himself shall be abased, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.
So, I thought about this and decided to call it «the leveling place» because when I started reading the text, Brother Tubman, it seemed crooked to me. I don’t know what it is about me, but I can’t stand crooked stuff. A picture leaning gets on my nerves; I have to go over and straighten it up. I can’t even stand it if you put something on one side of the wall; you’ve got to put something on the other side of the wall, or it gets on my nerves, because it’s got to be level. If I bake a cake and it’s not level, I keep it at home because I’m not going to send you a crooked cake. It seems that this text starts out crooked between the Pharisee and the publican, but it ends up leveled because the exalted one is brought down, and the humble one is exalted. So I submit for your consideration, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, that God’s house is the leveling place.
Be without the living God; fall fresh on us now as we embark upon the mission of declaring Your Word. You know how I love Your Word; I esteem it above my necessary food. I believe Your Word is strength to my bones; Your Word has guided me past troubled waters. Your Word has kept me from my own folly; Your Word has strengthened me when I was tired. It has protected me when I was attacked; it has been a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. Speak, great God that You are. I thank You in advance for what You’re about to do. Have Your way in this place. In Jesus' name, somebody shout Amen. You may be seated in the presence of God.
It is with reflection that I approach this text. Having, many years ago, had the privilege of traveling to the Holy Land, I know many of you have been there many times, but it was my first time going. I was in awe; the first time I went to the continent of Africa was the same year that I went to Jerusalem. Both my natural heritage and my spiritual heritage were experienced in the same year. I won’t bore you with all the pictures from my vacation, but what was astounding was how Jerusalem is still such a significant city.
It is the epicenter of spirituality for not just Christians, but more importantly, Jews. Oddly enough, at the time that I was there, and I believe still now, that the holy mountain is controlled by Muslims. Isn’t it strange that the temple is controlled by Muslims? We had to take off our shoes to go in; do you remember that? Inside the Holy Mountain, they showed us what they believed to be the rock where Abraham offered up Isaac, and it is in the center of the temple. It’s not exactly the temple in our text today, but it is rebuilt in commemoration of the temple that is in our text. The temple is very important; from the Mount of Olives, you can see the temple. I sat on the Mount of Olives and imagined Him coming through the Western gate, riding on a horse in glory.
I can tell that I’m not talking to a well-seasoned church, because you would know that He’s coming back again. You would know that He’s going to split the eastern sky one day, as old folks used to say. But this is not the Jesus coming back; the Jesus coming back is the roaring Lion of the tribe of Judah. The Jesus in the text is the Lamb of God about to be offered up. He comes to us in this text teaching spiritual things in simplistic ways so that we might be able to grasp the profundity of the text through parables. He has just finished a parable about prayer and the unjust judge, and how important it is to pray. I believe that the real power of prayer is not just being able to communicate with God, but in the process of prayer, the added benefit to talking to God is that you actually see yourself.
I’m amazed at the people that do not know themselves; they know their representatives, but they don’t know themselves. It’s difficult to bond with people who do not know themselves because you can’t give yourself if you don’t know yourself. You can’t value yourself if you don’t know yourself. You don’t know what you need if you don’t know yourself; you aren’t even sure what you want if you don’t know yourself. You don’t know what you bring to the table if you don’t know yourself; it’s difficult for God to use you if you don’t know yourself. If you don’t know your strengths, your weaknesses, your tendencies, or your liabilities, you don’t know yourself. We’re so busy trying to get to know other people that we don’t bother to know ourselves.
I’m going to deal with this a little bit today. So, Jesus has come to the temple, and I want you to understand that He is laboring in the temple with parables. I got distracted from the parable by the love that is represented in His continual coming back to a place where He is rejected, trying to get them to see what they refuse to see. There’s almost a love affair with pain every time He goes to the temple. I’m going to talk to you about the temple, the two, and the truth—three things: the temple, the two, and the truth. He comes to the temple as the glory of the latter house. He is the fulfillment of prophecy; He is the promise that God gave to Zerubbabel’s temple that the glory of the latter house shall be greater than that of the former house. He comes to the temple as that glory. How do you get that? Because the Bible says we beheld the wonder of His glory, the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. He comes to bring the glory back to a temple that has lost its glory. He is the embodiment of the missing Ark of the Covenant of the latter house.
You see, they had been worshiping for years before a veil that had no Ark of the Covenant, no glory. Isn’t it amazing how long people can worship where God used to be and fight you for where God used to be, perform ceremonies and rituals, and nobody seems to notice that God is gone? Ichabod—the glory is departed—and yet the ceremonies continue, and the glory is gone. His continued trips remind us of how long God strives with those He loves. He cannot be the stone that the builders rejected if He doesn’t keep coming. It is His perpetual coming and pleading, telling different stories, trying to compel them to see who He is that makes Him the stone that the builders rejected. You don’t earn the right to say you’re rejected if I say no once; you haven’t put enough effort in it to determine whether you’re rejected or not. Until you have put everything you’ve got into it and got nothing back, you’ve got no right to say you’re rejected.
Because I haven’t even got to see you at your fullest, Jesus has to make sure that He has exhausted every possible way to get them to see who He is. It is only then that He can walk away fully and say, «It is finished.» It is only then that John could write, «He came unto His own, and His own received Him not.» It is only after He has strived with you, and strived with you, and talked to you, and counseled you, and whispered to you, and given you mercy, and chance after chance after chance, that He walks away. God is not placid; He is not temporary; He is not casual; He is focused. When He goes after something, He will spend whatever it takes to bring it in. Some of you are not here because God is cheap; you’re here because God is full of grace. He gave you a lot of grace; He extended a lot of mercy, and He gave you a lot of opportunity. Somebody ought to shout me down right now. Thank you!
Eventually, we’ll see Jesus sitting on the Mount of Olives, crying out to God. The Bible says in Matthew 23:37, «Jerusalem, how often I have gathered you as a hen would her chicks under her wings, but you would not.» The scariest thing about God is when God gives up. As long as He’s convicting, wrestling with you, talking to you, chastening you, and admonishing you, at least He’s not through with you. What bothers me is when I can do anything and nothing bothers me; it might be a sign that God has given up. Jerusalem, Jerusalem, I have gathered you as a hen does her chicks, but you would not. He says that only after He has exhausted every possible method to reach them.
Let me talk about the temple. So much of Jesus' life centers around the temple; He had been carried there as early as eight days old, and there He was circumcised. The very first drop of blood recorded happens inside the temple, and the last drop of blood happens outside the temple. He gave His first blood to it; He withheld His last drop from it. Oh God, don’t withhold Your blood from me; don’t let my stubborn ways bring You to a point that You stop dropping Your blood down on me. The first drop fell in it; the last drop fell outside of it. It is an indication that He has given up on it. The temple is everything to Him. The temple was more than a sanctuary; it was a sacred source of identity that had been besieged and altered as Jerusalem had become an outpost of Rome.
The temple, you see, for the Jew, is the place where they’re holding on to the fragments of what they have left of their culture and their identity. Even though the temple was weak and convoluted by the influences of Herod and others, it was still a reminder of who they used to be. Sometimes you’ve got to fight for what you’ve got left rather than just grieve over what is gone. You’ve got to fight for what you’ve got left, because if the enemy gets you grieving over what’s gone, he’ll steal what you’ve got left. Oh, you all don’t hear what I’m saying. That’s a big deal right there; that’s a big deal.
I can’t tell you how many people I have seen hell-bent on getting back what they lost and, in the process, lost what they had left because they didn’t value the fragments. The fragments of their faith are embodied in this moment, and it is precious to them because they are captive in their own land, controlled by the monarchy. There are constant reminders that attest to the fact that they are free but not really. Have you ever been free but not really? That’s what I think the Bible means when it says, «He whom the Son has set free is free indeed,» because it is possible to be free but not really. And whatever little bit of freedom you have left, you’re holding on to it to remind yourself so that you can be centered.
Because you can’t level if you can’t find your center. The first step to leveling out is finding your center, and some of you right now are trying to level yourself with your extremes, and you can’t level yourself with your extremes. You can only level yourself with your center. I’ll go deeper than that. This country is in trouble because we’ve lost our middle. Anytime you lose your middle, you’re always going to be lopsided because you’re trying to balance yourself by extremes. Extreme left is crazy, extreme right is crazy—you’ve got to find your middle before you can balance anything. It’s true about the nation; it’s true about you.
The devil is not after your extremes; he’s after your balance. The Bible said, «Let your moderation be made known unto all men. The Lord is at hand.» Don’t go to either extremes; don’t be too deep, baby, because you’re going to fall off trying to trip yourself and be so extra holy. And don’t be so carnal that you’ve got some kind of fictitious name that disgraces what you stand for. You’ve got to be balanced; you’ve got to be grounded. I’m scared of folks that are too deep; deep folk make me nervous. Deep folk make me itch; deep folk make me scared. You can’t laugh; you can’t joke; you can’t have fun; you’re just so holy, you scare me. On the other hand, I can’t stand folks that are so carnal be sliding on ice, and you can’t even send up a prayer because you’re so far away from God.
I like to be balanced; my point is this: Jerusalem is captive in its own land, unlike the Babylonian captivity, where they were snatched away from their own land. As they were taken away, they were wounded, bleeding, battered, tattered, and torn, and Jerusalem was on fire. They said, «Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem, if I forget thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.» They found themselves in a strange land and were asked to sing a song. They said, «How can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?»
See, that’s what the enemy wants to do: get you in strange lands so he can mock you because your anointing won’t work when you’ve gone too far into a strange land. So, they hung their harps by the willow trees and wept when they remembered Jerusalem. It’s one thing to be a captive out of your country; it’s another thing to be a slave in your own house. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! It’s one thing to have to go to work in hell, and it’s another thing to get off work and come home to hell. You don’t have to talk to me; I’ll preach by myself. I can deal with crazy folks at church; I just don’t want to roll over and bump into anybody crazy. No, no, no! I have to have some peace somewhere. Everybody can’t be neurotic and unstable and out of their head.
I’ve got to have some place to lay my head down. It’s one thing to be captive in Babylon; it’s another thing to be captive in Jerusalem. They’re back home, but home is not home. There is no king in Israel; the succession has dissipated, and the Roman monarchy has taken control. Little remains of what once was. It makes me want to say, «Make it like it was!» Yeah, I’m just teasing. I’m just easy. What did remain was a convoluted representation of both culture and oppression. It was Herod’s Temple, a painful reminder and a pleasant memoir all at the same time. I want to talk to some people who have had bittersweet experiences, where you can’t really articulate how you feel about them because, on one hand, they are sweet, and on the other hand, they are bitter. Certain pictures evoke fondness and bring tears. Certain people, when you think about them, you miss them.
Come on, talk to me, real people. Talk to me, real people. Talk to me, real people. So, you see, Jerusalem has become a very different place. It was inhabited by Jews and Romans; it was very cosmopolitan at this time. It was a city filled with diverse people, including Africans, Greeks, Gnostics, Samaritans, and many others who converged upon the same city. It was the epicenter of culture, trade, and commerce. That’s why they tried to kill Jesus when he was a baby: because they heard he was the King of the Jews, and that meant Herod might lose control of the epicenter of trade and commerce, which is why the wise men brought gold and silver. When Herod heard about it, he was tripping out because normally he would have… Y’all don’t want to hear me talk!
Can’t you hear the marching of the Roman soldiers on the cobblestone streets of Jerusalem, riding on their horses and their chariots, compelling the Jews to always remember that they are still in control? This was coupled with the side roads littered with crucified criminals — a constant reminder that they were not truly free in their own land. The presence of the temple still provides some semblance of identity. Sometimes you’ve got to hold on to whatever you’ve got left. If it’s a hairstyle, sometimes you’ll wear your hair in defiance. Yes, snappy curly hair, but it’s mine. Sometimes you do certain things just to remind yourself, «You ain’t taking everything from me!»
Now, I’m conformed to a degree, but I’m going to fight back a little bit. You’re not going to take everything until I lose my sense of self just to be in your circle. That’s too much for me to pay to lose myself. So, you might like me, but it’s too much. The temple is holding on to their culture; it still provides their identity. This is so important to a culture filled with uncertainty and longing for solutions. Sounds a lot like us. Dissension, however, existed among the devout. Hence, verse 9 lets us know that Jesus is telling this story, this parable, against a backdrop of peril and mayhem. He is addressing people who think they are better than their own people. You need to know why the story — if you’re going to tell the story — is built around arrogance and supremacy and people with their noses in the air, thinking they are better than others.
The story is to level the playing field between these two extremes. There are people who call themselves Christians who will look down their noses at you and act like you stink because you don’t sit like them, or walk like them, or dress like them, or clap like them, or sing like them, or look like them, or vote like them. They’ll turn up their noses and judge you in a minute. Oh, y’all ain’t going to talk to me! See, it would be nice to think that if you got together with the same beliefs, you would have the same status. But sometimes, your greatest wounds come from people that are closest to you. Talk to me, somebody! It would be nice to think that if we grew up in the same house, I wouldn’t have to watch my back with you. It would be nice to think that I wasn’t forced to sleep with the enemy. It would be nice to think that at least among the Jews, there was agreement.
But there was not—there was dissension, which takes me from the temple to the two, because the two are examples of extreme imbalance. On one hand, you have the Publican at the temple. The Publican is very unpopular because they were tax collectors. He expects to be reprimanded; he expects not to be liked. He comes to the temple with humility because he has been hated to the point that he does not expect to be loved. He is a tax collector, working for Rome, and he’s a Jew, and of all people, they hated Publicans. Publicans were sellouts! I know, I know! I’m going to keep on until you get it. I’m going to bring it where you can feel it. I’m going to bring it right home to you — where your resentment lies. Publicans were viewed as sellouts because they were working for the Romans and worshiping with the Jews.
Once you have a history of being hated, you don’t expect to be loved. You can get so used to being rejected that you stop offering, you stop asking, you stop smiling, you stop engaging, you stop connecting with people because you already know how this story is going to go. «I’m not dating nobody, I’m not talking to nobody, I don’t need nobody, I don’t want nobody, I can make it by myself!» It’s just code for, «I have been rejected, I have been hurt, I have been alienated, and I’m tired of the pain. So before I put myself in a vulnerable situation, I don’t need you anyway, and I don’t like you anyway.» Is your pain talking? Oh yeah! Keep on sitting there acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Your pain will make you assume the position before the command was ever made.
So, the Publican finds it easy to humble himself because he’s used to being hated. He smites his breast in the presence of Jesus and says, «Lord, have mercy on me, I’m a sinner.» It was easy for him to find himself because nothing will make you find yourself like people hating you. People hating you will drive you back inside yourself, make you become your own best friend. How y’all don’t hear what I’m saying? People hating you and rejecting you will make you become acquainted with who you really are—even if you don’t tell anybody who you really are. If you are hated enough, you become acquainted with yourself when you have to take yourself out to dinner, when you have to buy yourself something for Valentine’s Day, when you have to plan your holiday because you know nobody else is going to be thinking about you.
You get to know yourself. You’ll be shocked at the people who know calculus and don’t know themselves, who know geometry and do not know themselves, who know politics and do not know themselves, who know scriptures and do not know themselves, who can sing but do not know themselves, who can preach but do not know themselves, who are fine… but do not know themselves. The one thing the Publican had going for him was that he knew himself. So, he says to Jesus, «You don’t have to discover me, you don’t have to expose me. I am a sinner.» You don’t hear many testimonies like that in church. «Have mercy on me! I’m a sinner!» Used to be we’d say, «I’m a wretch undone!» But now we’re important, dignified wretches—educated wretches, which wretches? But you still are a wretch! See, that’s the power of the text: the Pharisee thinks he’s better, but he’s not. He sees himself as superior, more moral, not corrupted.
The doctrine of human depravity exposes the fact that there is a different story. Human depravity simply declares the fact that all of us fell in Adam; we fell into sin—the state of sin, not the act of sin. So, while you might not have done the same act I did, you still fell into the same state I’m in. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I may be banana pudding and you may be chocolate cake, but we both got fat. And you said, «How could you eat banana pudding? That’s nasty!» Yeah, how about that chocolate you’re chewing on? We always push «nasty» away from what we lack. Oh, ain’t nobody going to shout today because I’m walking kind of heavy today. You can’t handle it today.
Whatever is «nasty,» «freaky,» or «wrong» is whatever you don’t like, so you get to be better than somebody, which is important to you to build up your self-confidence. You get to say, «At least I’m not like them!» All right, that’s what’s going on in this text. So, the Publican says, «I am a sinner,» while the Pharisee starts talking about what he does: «I pay my tithes, I fast twice a week, I am a Pharisee.» He gives a job description, not an identity. The Publican says, «I am,» while the Pharisee says, «I do.» People who need to tell you what they do are trying to hide. Y’all ain’t going to help me today! Let me go preach somewhere else. Ain’t you sick and tired of people that you just walk up to, and they tell you, «You know, I won a Grammy; I’m Luther Vandross’s cousin on his mama’s side, his auntie, and my grandma were sisters and cousins of the third, fourth…»
You can shut up! I just said hello! I didn’t ask you anything! Are you driving a Mercedes? I didn’t ask you for your net worth; I didn’t ask if you speak in tongues. I didn’t ask how many dates you had on your calendar—who are you? You see, the Pharisee is dressed up in camouflage. Camouflage is what we wear to hide who we are. Camouflage is what God gave certain animals because they didn’t have teeth, or they couldn’t run fast, or they couldn’t growl. He gave them camouflage as a defense so that they could adapt to the color of the tree and thereby become invisible. So maybe if I wear enough jewelry, you won’t see me. Maybe if I have enough degrees, you won’t see me. Maybe if I dazzle you with my talent, you won’t see who I am.
So ask me what I do, but don’t ask me who I am, because the truth of the matter is, I don’t even know who I am. I’m trying to hide who I am behind what I do, and that is the problem with the Pharisee. Because nothing in the description tells me who he is; everything is about what he does. Whenever people need to tell you what they do, they either don’t know who they are or they don’t want you to know. Can I go deeper? There is a difference between what you do and who you are. The fact that you can sing doesn’t mean you can handle money. The fact that you can play the bass doesn’t mean you aren’t a liar. The fact that you are fine and cute and good-looking doesn’t mean that you’re gonna treat me nice. Because one of them deals with how much time you spend in the gym, but it don’t have anything to do with how much time you can spend with me. You see, your advertisement may be good, but your product is bad.
Come on with me! I dare you to jump on me; I will knock you out! This… You’ve been living with the Pharisees and praying like the Publican. Aren’t you tired of hugging camouflage? Aren’t you tired of doing business with people wearing camouflage? You think you’ve got one thing, and you’ve got something else. You think you’ve got this, and you really got that. The Pharisee is a master of camouflage. In the Bible, when God calls you a hypocrite, it doesn’t mean what it means today. In the Bible, a hypocrite was an actor, an actress, who hides their lives behind a mask. The word hypocrite just means you’re talking behind a mask. I put on a face, but this ain’t who I am. My face is smiling, but I don’t like you. Thank you!
Me, how God blessed you! I put on a face like I’m happy for you, but I really can’t stand here. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. When I wear a mask, some of y’all are sleeping with a man; some of y’all are married to a man; some of y’all are working with the mask. The Pharisees' real problem is not the wretchedness of their sin; it is the audacity of their mask. The Publican just comes clean: «I’m a sinner.» The first thing you should start talking about all this stuff, Jesus, they ask you: «I fast twice a week; I pay my tithes; I go to the Temple daily.»
See, we go to church with both Pharisees and Publicans. That’s why it’s hard to have worship, because people who wear masks can’t worship. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. They can praise a little bit, but they can’t worship, because in order to worship, you’ve got to be real. You’ve got to be vulnerable. You’ve got to come clean. You’ve got to open up. You’ve got to be yourself, and you don’t mind clapping a little bit, but the reason you can’t really get down in worship service is because you’re phony. Worship will make you drop your disguise. Worship will make you mess up your makeup. Worship will make you fall down on your face. Worship will bring you down to your knees. Worship will make you say yes to God. Worship will make you open up your heart and say, «I’m broken, and I’m lonely, and I’m hurting, and I need you. I need you. I need you. I need you.»
Wherever praise is, let everything that has breath praise the Lord. But when it comes to a worshiper, He has to seek for them, because in order to worship, you’ve got to be real. No, no, no, you don’t have to be righteous; you don’t have to be perfect; you don’t have to be talented. See, that’s what’s wrong with our worship services; our worship services are driven by talent. I am tired of talent. It ain’t about how many riffs you can make; it’s about how you can fall on your face and lay out before God and say, «Lord, I surrender.» Don’t confuse camouflage with reality. Let the worshipers make some noise in this place. Worship will make you strip; worship will make you come clean. Worship will make you sell out. Worship doesn’t care how much you paid for your dress. Worship doesn’t care about how cute your hair is. Worship will make you reach down in your belly and cry out, «Oh God!»
Take off that phony stuff; take off all that stuff you’re proud of, and get in the presence of God and say, «I’m a wretch, and I need you right now.» Open your mouth in the house. Yeah, yeah! Somebody tell them, «I dare you to level up! I dare you to come out of all your isms! Let’s give Him praise! I dare you to really worship God like you need a touch from Him, like you can’t face tomorrow without Him, like you need Him more than you need your breath. Is there anybody left in the church that knows how to worship God in spirit?»
Here’s my third point: «And in truth, you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.» God wants somebody to worship Him in truth, to worship Him lonely, to worship Him tired, to worship Him confused. Whatever your truth is, that’s what God wants. He wants you to open up your heart and not give Him your titles but give Him your truth. «I don’t know what to do without you. I can’t live without you. I can’t walk without you. I can’t move without you. I can’t stand without you.»
Come on, open your mouth! Rebuke the devil, you Pharisee! Come on, and open your spirit and talk to your God! See, we’ve got too many people who are believing alternative facts. Alternative facts! They’re not facts; they’re the truths we tell ourselves. It’s the camouflage we wear; it’s our alternative reality. We live in a false dimension, which causes you to be arrogant so you can look down your nose at somebody else. But if we ever got down to the truth, there is no difference between the Pharisee and the Publican; they’re both wretched; they both need God. If we ever get down to the truth, we won’t need dancers, instruments, worship leaders, praise singers, tambourines, bongos, drum sets, and organs because truth will drag you down to the altar.
Truth will strip you at the feet of Jesus. Truth will make you cry out to God. Is there any true worshipers in the house today? I need more grace! I need more grace! If I’m gonna work this job, I need more grace! If I will stay in this marriage, I need more grace! If I will raise these kids, I need more grace! If I’m gonna deal with my pain, if I’m gonna deal with my problems, if I’m gonna stand the test of time, if I’m not gonna lose my mind. You see, the Pharisees needed it; the Publicans needed it; the drug dealer needs it; the deacon needs it; the church member needs it; the club owner needs it; the alcoholic needs it; the altruist needs it. All we need from Jesus is a little more grace. Grace is a leveling place.
So God says to the one that’s up, «I’m gonna bring you down,» and to the one that’s down, He says, «I’m gonna raise you up,» because I’ve got to level this thing out, because you can’t worship without balance. And so you fake the worshiper—you have a form of godliness, denying the power thereof, because if real worship hit this place, cancer would have to run out of here; tumors would have to leap out of the building. If real worship hit this place right now, all swelling would come out of your joints. Somebody, lift your hands and worship until you feel the power of God! Thank you! The truth is I’m scared. The truth is I’m tired. The truth is I’m lonely. The truth is I’m worried. The truth is I’m frustrated. The truth is I need more help. The truth is I’m weary. The truth is I need a fresh touch from God. Is there anybody here that’s ready to keep it 100?
This is the leveling place. Arrogant people stay up there, being important in your cute camouflage. Desperate people fall out on this altar like you lost your mind. Fall out on this altar like you don’t care what you’ve got on. Fall out on this altar like if you don’t get help from God you’re gonna lose your mind. Fall out on this altar like you don’t care what nobody thinks. Fall out on this altar like you are tired of the camouflage in your pain and your situation and your circumstances. Fall out on this altar like you don’t care if your makeup messes up. Fall out on this altar like you want a touch from God. Fall out on this altar like you need Him more than you need your next breath.
Fall out on this altar like you need a touch from God, and you didn’t come to show off anything except your desperation to get more grace from God. Fall out on this altar like you came to do business in the heavenlies. Fall out on this altar like you’re ready to open up for God. This is a leveling place; this is a leveling place. I’m a sinner; I’m a wretch; I’m worried; I’m tired; I’m frustrated; I’m empty. But I am what I am, and here I come into your presence. Here I come into your presence. Here I come into your presence. It’s me, Lord! It’s me! It’s not my representative; it’s not my fake face; it’s not my camouflage; it’s not my car; it’s not my house; it’s not my degrees—it’s me, Lord! This is a troubling stage in my life. This is the empty stage in my life. This is a frustrating stage in my life, and I need a touch from God. «Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem! How often would I have gathered you, Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem! But how many times would I have picked you up like a hen does her chicks? But you would not! You would not! You would not! You would not!»
It’s not that I won’t bless you; it’s that you won’t come clean. It’s not that I won’t help you; it’s that you won’t cry out. I’m not talking about telling your business on Twitter; I’m not talking about telling your business on Facebook. But God said when you come to Me, you keep trying to tell Me what you’ve got, and I want to know who are you. Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? The Publican got in, and the Pharisee was locked out. There is grace for the Pharisee, though, because God said, «I’m gonna bring you all the way down. If you don’t come down on your own, I’m gonna bring you to a basement; I’m gonna bring you to a level place. I’ll bring you to your knees. If I have to do it in a wheelchair, I’ll bring you to your knees. If I have to do it in a nursing home, I’ll bring you to your knees. If I have to do it in intensive care, one way or the other, I’m gonna level you up. Either you come on your own, or I’m coming to get you!» Hallelujah! Hallelujah!