I’ve never had a martini, but there have been many times when I thought I could really use one—shaken, not stirred, like agent 007 orders them.
It’s this age we live in. The Fall started a rolling earthquake and, since then, everything’s been unstable. That rolling earthquake keeps coming around, rattling the windows, knocking pictures off the wall, and tipping over the furniture. Over and over again, the tremors and quakes come. And we all get shaken up like a mixed drink.
Even the cool James Bond had his Skyfall.
All that shaking tends to stir things up inside of us, things we didn’t even know were there, things we really don’t like looking at, but things Someone else wants us to see.
For years the great Mover and Shaker caused my life to quake. And whenever I was shaken, the ugly sediment inside of me was stirred up. Swirling around and around in my heart were deposits of fear, insecurity, anger, suspicion, and resentment. My heart was cloudy with the stuff. It became difficult to see anything else. Things just never calmed down long enough for the sediment to settle back down.
But as I looked at the swirling crud inside of me, I gradually began to recognize what the Shaker knew all along. The layered sediment can’t remain lying at the bottom of my heart because the ugly crud makes a faulty foundation for relationship. It has to be shaken free, stirred up and skimmed off.
I discovered that God shakes our lives in order to cultivate relationship. When our lives quake, we cling to the Shaker until everything unstable falls away, and only the unshakable things remain. As we mature in a relationship of trust with the Unshakable Shaker, we experience the rolling earthquake differently.
Like a good martini, we’re shaken, not stirred.