TD Jakes - The Lion's Lair (04/02/2017)
Breaking free from captivity into God's calling requires a difficult transition: leaping from the familiar cage, enduring the limp of struggle as a reminder of the cost, unlearning old habits while learning new ones, losing what holds you back, and finally resting confidently in the new "lair" of freedom and promise.
The Challenge of Transition
The leap is where we start our battle. Transitions are important. Nobody teaches you how to transition—how to be transitioned from being single to being married, from being a renter to being an owner, from being a taker to being a giver. There are no classes on how you leap from being an employee to an entrepreneur.
People are trying to figure this out right now. It is clear by the gate's cage that every trainer knows that domestication isn't a natural phenomenon. Domestication is not a natural phenomenon for the lion, whose wild nature precludes him from ever being comfortable in the cage. Yet even though his instincts are fully wild, he has to overcome the abusive background that has been his home.
His instincts are for the wild, but he has to overcome the abusive background that has been his home. Now, I know you don't think it's abusive because you're not a lion. From the spectator's perspective, you go to watch the lion for entertainment, but your entertainment is his incarceration.
Yet if he has been raised in captivity, his background is so abusive, but it has become so natural that how do I get out of an abusive background when it has become my norm? You're living in a zoo, and somebody benefits from your captivity—even if the only benefit is for the sake of what they call normal.
They like to keep you in a certain little box, and we'll come watch you move around the box, and don't do anything different, and don't go anywhere else, and stay right here in this cage. All of a sudden, you start coming and hearing this old country preacher from West Virginia teaching about instincts, and you dare to believe that you can get out.
Recognizing Your Cage
Touch your neighbor and say, "You can get out." Just because something is familiar doesn't mean that it's natural. I said just because it's familiar doesn't mean that it's natural. It doesn't mean that it's right. His instincts are to leap to freedom, but intelligence requires that he gradually make the transition.
I want to talk to people who are making transitions this morning. Anybody making transitions? Hold your head up. Tell your neighbor, "I'm in the middle of transition." The real question is, there is something between staying and leaping.
There is something between working your job and quitting your job and starting a business with no money. There is something between being single for 40 years and jumping into a marriage. This is about whatever your cage is. Everybody in here has a cage—it may be a spiritual cage, it may be a moral cage, it may be an emotional cage, but everybody has a cage.
David says we were born in captivity. He says it this way: "We were born in sin, shaped in iniquity." We were born in the box. What do I do when all of my experiences validate my incarceration, and yet my instincts keep nagging me in this cage, saying there's something out there for you?
I go to the bars and growl, and I back up again. I go to church and growl—Monday morning I'm back in the cage again. Let me hear that roar again. That's what's roaring down inside of somebody sitting next to you right now.
The Inner Roar for Freedom
That is how a soul sounds when you want to escape the parameters of your situation. That's in that man sitting next to you, in that woman right behind you, in your sister to the left. That's what's going on in this choir stand, on the praise team.
You may not see my lips moving, but my soul is saying... I came to church this morning not just to sing, dance, and shout—I want somebody to show me how to get from point A to point B. The limp—you may leap over here, but you're going to limp back.
Transitions are important, and transitions are tough. It is not easy to go through the process without pain. Go to Genesis 32 for a minute. Genesis 32:27, "And he said unto him, 'What is thy name?'" Who are you? Have you ever wondered who you are?
Are you the one in the cage, or the one in the wild? Are you Jacob, the trickster like your mama? Your mama was slick, Jacob—or like your Uncle Laban? All of your kinfolks are sneaky, Jacob. Here God asks you, "Who are you?" He says, "My name is Jacob." "I guess I am who they call me."
Jacob means trickster. Just because somebody called you something, said something about you, or did something to you, or took something from you doesn't mean they get the right to define your destiny based on your history.
A New Name and Identity
He said, "Thy name shall be called no more Jacob." "Thy name shall be called no more Jacob." Say that with me, "Thy name shall be called no more Jacob." Now this time, instead of saying Jacob, whatever label they put on you, say it: "Thy name shall be called no more..."
Let us be clear that when this is over, verse 30: "And Jacob called the name of the place Peniel: for I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved." Verse 31: "And as he passed over Penuel the sun rose upon him." When you get past this, the sun is going to rise upon you.
When you get over this hurdle... You will limp back. The limp is not designed to cripple you, but the limp is designed to remind you how much freedom costs. The limp is the telltale sign that you didn't get here without struggle, without pain.
I will let you run with the rest of the lions, but when you run, you're going to be limping. I meant for you to limp. This is not the devil—I meant for you to limp. I designed your limp to make you humble, thankful, grateful.
Are there any limpers in the house? Every time you want to get puffed up, remember what it cost you to get out of that cage. When others are high-minded and self-righteous, lay on your face before Me and thank Me for delivering you out of your cage.
The Limp as a Reminder
I left your limp as a reminder that if it had not been for the Lord who was on your side, you would have been swallowed up. I wish I had a limping servant in the house—somebody who limped their way into your blessings, into owning your house, into holding your family together, into your promotion, into business.
You can't ever get high-minded because you know that just yesterday you were stuck in the cage. My third point is learning. "Take my yoke upon you and learn of me." I have to learn how to hunt now. I'm used to being fed—now I gotta learn how to hunt.
Do I chase? Do I bite? Do I roar and then jump? I don't know—I have to learn. In order to learn the wild, I have to unlearn the cage. Your captivity is a learned behavior. If you learned how to make do in the cage, you can learn how to hunt in the wild.
I am putting too much energy into supporting a system that I'm not going to stay in. Why am I acting like I'm going to live over here when I'm called over there? If I'm going to learn something, I'm going to learn how to hunt in the wild rather than eat in captivity.
The Necessity of Loss
Number four: the losing. The losing will not excite you, but I must tell you about it anyway. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. There will be losses. Shed off that which cannot transform—either you change, or I'm dropping you.
Shed off those things that will not change—cut them off. The chicken cannot be hatched without shattering the outer encasement of the egg that held him. There is no nice way for the chicken to get out without cracking the eggshell—it's gotta go.
Somebody say, "It's gotta go." The seed must lose its outer encasement to become a tree. Blind Bartimaeus had to shed his coat. The woman at the well had to drop her pots. We all must lose something to move ahead.
The snake sheds his skin. The dog sheds his old coat. The worm sheds its cocoon to access his new wings. Those who cannot handle loss are restricted from leading the way to new turf. If you don't want it bad enough to lose something, shut your mouth.
If you're not willing to shake something off to come into a new place, you don't want it bad enough. There will be losses—collateral damage. Chalk it up to a business expense. You cannot be innovative and be traditional at the same time.
Pressing Toward the Prize
You have to forget those things which are behind, reach for those things which are before. Leave your coat, drop your water pot, come out your cocoon, crack your shell. It's going to be worth it when you realize that the thing in front of you is greater than the thing behind you.
"I press toward the mark of the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." I want you to write down some habits, proclivities, and ways that you must drop for the place you're going. What cocoon do you have to come out of? What shell do you have to crack?
What water pots do you have to drop to take Jesus up on this offer? Blind Bartimaeus, what is your coat? Don't tell me you're going to come into a new opportunity without losing something—it simply doesn't happen.
Challenge yourself this year, this season: what are you willing to drop to get to the next level? If everybody had to drop something—if Blind Bartimaeus dropped his coat, the woman at the well her pots, the silkworm his cocoon, the seed its encasement, the chicken the shell—what are you willing to crack to find your wings?
Resting in the Lair
Finally, the whole premise of my session today is the lair. The lair is the place where the lion who was once lame, once wounded, once crippled like Jacob, once afraid, once intimidated—the lair is where the lion has learned how to live in the wild.
It is where the lion's nest, lodge, love, make love, procreate, and raise their children. The lion's lair is the place where wounded lions can now rest in the wild and raise their children and families. The lion's lair is the new normal.
It is not just about getting in the wild—you did that. It is about being at home in the wild. It is about resting in your future rather than wrestling with your fears. You have a new place, new opportunity, new land, new language—but if you don't rest in it, you'll lose it.
Have you ever been there but didn't feel there? Been in a new place but so afraid of losing it that you couldn't enjoy it? The lion's lair says not only am I out and free—I have come to rest in who I am and not in who I was.
This is mine. This is where I live—I'm there. The Lord said when I ministered this, He wants me to go to all of His children who are living in His promises but not resting in His promises. He sees them in the blessing but senses how tense you are.
You are in your wild, you have your lair, but you're pacing in it like I'm going to take it from you. Tell my children to rest in Me—to be at ease in Zion. I do not like their fear. I have brought you to a new place, but I smell your old fear.
Tell my children that the enemies that you see today, you shall see them no more.