Sometimes I sit down and wonder how I got here. I feel like I have long term amnesia. How could I forget the steps and not see the woodworking?
My heart forgets the wonder and mystery and always finds reasons to grumble. It seems easy to laugh at the Israelites who time and time again sinned against their King so soon after He rescued them from utter disaster. But I'm coming to see my story has more resemblances than could be coincidental.
"My sheep know My voice." A sheep who forgets where it's going halfway there, follows the crowd and so desperately needs someone to protect it from every danger around - cliffs, wolves and robbers. A sheep who is stinky, usually dirty and not that terribly desirable.
I forget where I've come from and stare at the mountains in front instead of taking time to look at the mountains behind. If I remembered where I've been, my heart would grow far less troubled at where I am. Though we don't know the way ahead, though trouble seeps at our feet in different forms, we do know who we are and who our Shepherd is. And though I don't understand Him very much, I do feel His heart and know His voice. And I know He has never let a hurt or trouble come needlessly into life before. Maybe I should trust He wouldn't now.
God, keep my heart from following after the pretty things I see. Keep my heart from fretting over the things that shouldn't have the power to crush. Keep me from the things that keep me from Your face.
Sunday, 22 December 2013
Friday, 20 December 2013
Sunday, 21 April 2013
Tricycle on the Highway
Tonight, my plans got messed up. I drove home late hoping to make it in time to get a fitful rest and wake up ready for church and a plethora of activities the next day.
As I speedily headed along my little way, I was brought to a sudden halt. The highway was shut down and emergency vehicle lights littered the clear starry night. After the initial, "What is going on over there?" thoughts, my ongoing mindset was, "Man, I hope I won't be stuck here for long. I'm all by myself ... and it's dark ... and I don't want to spend the night in a hotel. I'm tired - will I be able to stay awake long enough to make it home after getting through this?"
I prayed and asked Jesus to get me past myself and know that these emergency vehicles were on the highway because someone's life had been altered. But it was a long wait and my thoughts would drift back and forth between exhaustion and frustration.
When the highway was cleared, I quickly woke myself back up to prepare for a tiresome journey home. But what I saw shattered my plans.
A tricycle on the highway. Between two demolished cars, tires and glass lay a small tricycle on its side. I think the image may be permanently etched inside me. I feel sick even thinking about it.
Someone, a person much like me, has had their life dramatically altered. What may have started as a family trip has ended in pain and most likely death. There is such finality to it. No parent to soothe their child's fears at night, no child to squeal with delight when their favourite person walks in the room ... within minutes all their plans and ideals were stolen.
"All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass. " (Isa. 40:6-7)
God, don't let me keep playing this stupid game. There is life and there is death and when the end comes there is no second try or redos - that's it. Jesus, let my life be lived out in light of this - not scurrying around doing good activities and thoughtful things, but fully living the way You did - showing people what hope is while there is still a choice. Keep me from being the person who looked in the mirror saw what needed to be done, walked away and forgot - Jesus, don't let me just be words.
As I speedily headed along my little way, I was brought to a sudden halt. The highway was shut down and emergency vehicle lights littered the clear starry night. After the initial, "What is going on over there?" thoughts, my ongoing mindset was, "Man, I hope I won't be stuck here for long. I'm all by myself ... and it's dark ... and I don't want to spend the night in a hotel. I'm tired - will I be able to stay awake long enough to make it home after getting through this?"
I prayed and asked Jesus to get me past myself and know that these emergency vehicles were on the highway because someone's life had been altered. But it was a long wait and my thoughts would drift back and forth between exhaustion and frustration.
When the highway was cleared, I quickly woke myself back up to prepare for a tiresome journey home. But what I saw shattered my plans.
A tricycle on the highway. Between two demolished cars, tires and glass lay a small tricycle on its side. I think the image may be permanently etched inside me. I feel sick even thinking about it.
Someone, a person much like me, has had their life dramatically altered. What may have started as a family trip has ended in pain and most likely death. There is such finality to it. No parent to soothe their child's fears at night, no child to squeal with delight when their favourite person walks in the room ... within minutes all their plans and ideals were stolen.
"All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass. " (Isa. 40:6-7)
God, don't let me keep playing this stupid game. There is life and there is death and when the end comes there is no second try or redos - that's it. Jesus, let my life be lived out in light of this - not scurrying around doing good activities and thoughtful things, but fully living the way You did - showing people what hope is while there is still a choice. Keep me from being the person who looked in the mirror saw what needed to be done, walked away and forgot - Jesus, don't let me just be words.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
Purposeful Grace
I don't know what or who I'm looking for.
I feel so lost. I don't even know who I am anymore; it seems the only glue keeping me together these days is sheer will power.
What am I good at it? Oh, this and that. What am I passion about? I don't even know, but I know what other people would tell you. What do I want? I wish I knew. What should I be doing with my life? This answer seems to differ with every person you talk to, but as far as me knowing, I feel like an eternal disappointment.
And I'm sitting here reading the genealogy of Jesus and crying.
"And Abraham was the father of Isaac" - Abraham who waited on God's promise for so long and then, in a sense, gave up so close to it's fulfillment.
"Isaac the father of Jacob." Isaac who lied to the king, leaving his wife to fend for herself, in order to save his own life.
"Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers" Jacob who pretended to be somebody else to get an inheritance and ran when he got scared.
... "David the father of Solomon (by the wife of Urriah)"
"Solomon the father of Rehoboam." Solomon who had seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines. Wives and concubines who "led him astray."
"Rehoboam the father of Abijah." Rehoboam who refused to heed wisdom and chose to heed that which suited his own desires.
The more I look at that list, the smaller I feel. I have no idea who I am anymore, but I do know grace.
"Joseph, the husband of Mary, by whom Jesus was born, who is called the Christ. "
Out of wholly messed up people, many of whom probably never even knew what purpose their life was playing, came a King to eternally and wholly rescue people from bitter slavery. Each person, amidst their wretchedness, was used like a grand paint stroke. And in all of those paint stroke's unpredictability came something so astounding words fall away.
Jesus who is called the Christ.
My life feels like an utter disaster with no purpose. But my feelings don't define what my life is. Though all I've been crying to God lately is, "I can't do this anymore," what I do know is God is intricately etching my life to fit into His picture. When I finally reach home and see this story without all the fog, I know I will sob seeing His heart and fingerprints sloshed over every second of my life. Knowing then that He was always preparing me for the part I will always play in His freedom song.
I feel so lost. I don't even know who I am anymore; it seems the only glue keeping me together these days is sheer will power.
What am I good at it? Oh, this and that. What am I passion about? I don't even know, but I know what other people would tell you. What do I want? I wish I knew. What should I be doing with my life? This answer seems to differ with every person you talk to, but as far as me knowing, I feel like an eternal disappointment.
And I'm sitting here reading the genealogy of Jesus and crying.
"And Abraham was the father of Isaac" - Abraham who waited on God's promise for so long and then, in a sense, gave up so close to it's fulfillment.
"Isaac the father of Jacob." Isaac who lied to the king, leaving his wife to fend for herself, in order to save his own life.
"Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers" Jacob who pretended to be somebody else to get an inheritance and ran when he got scared.
... "David the father of Solomon (by the wife of Urriah)"
"Solomon the father of Rehoboam." Solomon who had seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines. Wives and concubines who "led him astray."
"Rehoboam the father of Abijah." Rehoboam who refused to heed wisdom and chose to heed that which suited his own desires.
The more I look at that list, the smaller I feel. I have no idea who I am anymore, but I do know grace.
"Joseph, the husband of Mary, by whom Jesus was born, who is called the Christ. "
Out of wholly messed up people, many of whom probably never even knew what purpose their life was playing, came a King to eternally and wholly rescue people from bitter slavery. Each person, amidst their wretchedness, was used like a grand paint stroke. And in all of those paint stroke's unpredictability came something so astounding words fall away.
Jesus who is called the Christ.
My life feels like an utter disaster with no purpose. But my feelings don't define what my life is. Though all I've been crying to God lately is, "I can't do this anymore," what I do know is God is intricately etching my life to fit into His picture. When I finally reach home and see this story without all the fog, I know I will sob seeing His heart and fingerprints sloshed over every second of my life. Knowing then that He was always preparing me for the part I will always play in His freedom song.
Friday, 16 November 2012
Confused Frustration
Is there no middle ground, no path that weaves its way on both sides?
I have been wrestling between calloused commitment and fervent spontaneity. I'm trying to see the life God longs me to walk into and I'm just as frustrated as the day I started searching. Let me explain.
I grew up in a conservative church ... very conservative. I learned the value of being committed to God, doing what was right and worked hard to maintain that standard. I wanted my life to be set apart, not always for the right reasons (I often long for the praise of people), but I always questioned the lack of zwang and newcomers in our church. We were living lives differently than those around us, but our lives, or how I saw them, were not overflowing with life.
Then I went to Bible School. And as difficult as some of those days were, Jesus became ridiculously real to me. He became a sturdy foundation in my steadily changing world and I fell in love with that incomparably faithful companion. There are innumerable people who made an impact on me there and I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to express how important that time was in setting a course for my life.
And yet even here in this place of growing and changing, I still longed for an active expression of worship. I longed to be around people that not only knew who Jesus was, were committed and grateful towards Him, but who were also radically in love with Him - so in love with Him that they were able to express it in more ways than doing the right thing.
When I moved back home, my heart slipped into devastation. In this devastation, I needed to be around people who felt Jesus, actively listened to His voice, and believed that He was still the same God He was in Bible times. I started attending a pentecostal church in the midst of this need and again I cannot even begin expressing how thankful I am.
In this place, I, almost weekly, am in awe of how precisely God speaks to the needs of my heart. I have been brought into a family of people I love more than I can express and I have been more encouraged than I could express being around people who believe in God radically (i.e. He is still very much the same God who performed miracles in Bible times).
Now that you know the background, we come to the problem. In a word, commitment and spontaneity. In this pentecostal church, feelings are a part of worship and I stand behind this. Feelings are a part of us and I believe even they should be directed towards my King. However, when feelings leave, I feel like many (not all by any stretch) of the people around me walk back into the life they were living before. I long for the depth, unwavering commitment and a constant digging into what God's Word really says. This is the spontaneity side.
However, on the commitment side, I am constantly frustrated with the fear. The fear of looking ridiculous when all we should be doing is worshiping our King with complete abandon. The fear of actually taking the God who did ridiculous, unfathomable things in the Bible at His word and living such a life that He is able to do these things in your own life. I long for people to be in wholehearted love relationships with Jesus. This is the commitment side.
Is there a middle ground? Is there people who take the pieces of both sides? Oh how I long for it. My roommate suggested such a thing would be a perfect church and henceforth would most likely only be found in Heaven. :p ... Probably right.
How do we make our lives the good soil that Jesus spoke of - the soil that allowed the plant to have deep roots and an abundance of fruit. On the pentecostal side, the fault (in my mind) that one might run into is the seed on the rocks. God's word is received with joy, but when hardships come, with a lack of roots, the plant (i.e. their faith) withers up and dies. On the conservative side, the fault (in my mind) you might see is the weeds - the cares and worries of this life sucking the life out of the plant.
All I want for myself and the church is to have that life that Jesus described - one that hears the word, retains it and by persevering produces a crop. How do we get there?
I have been wrestling between calloused commitment and fervent spontaneity. I'm trying to see the life God longs me to walk into and I'm just as frustrated as the day I started searching. Let me explain.
I grew up in a conservative church ... very conservative. I learned the value of being committed to God, doing what was right and worked hard to maintain that standard. I wanted my life to be set apart, not always for the right reasons (I often long for the praise of people), but I always questioned the lack of zwang and newcomers in our church. We were living lives differently than those around us, but our lives, or how I saw them, were not overflowing with life.
Then I went to Bible School. And as difficult as some of those days were, Jesus became ridiculously real to me. He became a sturdy foundation in my steadily changing world and I fell in love with that incomparably faithful companion. There are innumerable people who made an impact on me there and I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to express how important that time was in setting a course for my life.
And yet even here in this place of growing and changing, I still longed for an active expression of worship. I longed to be around people that not only knew who Jesus was, were committed and grateful towards Him, but who were also radically in love with Him - so in love with Him that they were able to express it in more ways than doing the right thing.
When I moved back home, my heart slipped into devastation. In this devastation, I needed to be around people who felt Jesus, actively listened to His voice, and believed that He was still the same God He was in Bible times. I started attending a pentecostal church in the midst of this need and again I cannot even begin expressing how thankful I am.
In this place, I, almost weekly, am in awe of how precisely God speaks to the needs of my heart. I have been brought into a family of people I love more than I can express and I have been more encouraged than I could express being around people who believe in God radically (i.e. He is still very much the same God who performed miracles in Bible times).
Now that you know the background, we come to the problem. In a word, commitment and spontaneity. In this pentecostal church, feelings are a part of worship and I stand behind this. Feelings are a part of us and I believe even they should be directed towards my King. However, when feelings leave, I feel like many (not all by any stretch) of the people around me walk back into the life they were living before. I long for the depth, unwavering commitment and a constant digging into what God's Word really says. This is the spontaneity side.
However, on the commitment side, I am constantly frustrated with the fear. The fear of looking ridiculous when all we should be doing is worshiping our King with complete abandon. The fear of actually taking the God who did ridiculous, unfathomable things in the Bible at His word and living such a life that He is able to do these things in your own life. I long for people to be in wholehearted love relationships with Jesus. This is the commitment side.
Is there a middle ground? Is there people who take the pieces of both sides? Oh how I long for it. My roommate suggested such a thing would be a perfect church and henceforth would most likely only be found in Heaven. :p ... Probably right.
How do we make our lives the good soil that Jesus spoke of - the soil that allowed the plant to have deep roots and an abundance of fruit. On the pentecostal side, the fault (in my mind) that one might run into is the seed on the rocks. God's word is received with joy, but when hardships come, with a lack of roots, the plant (i.e. their faith) withers up and dies. On the conservative side, the fault (in my mind) you might see is the weeds - the cares and worries of this life sucking the life out of the plant.
All I want for myself and the church is to have that life that Jesus described - one that hears the word, retains it and by persevering produces a crop. How do we get there?
Saturday, 27 October 2012
Belonging
Seems like I'm always ready to write late at night. Must be the inner artist coming out ... jk.
Tonight at this moment, I'm sitting here wishing for you - wishing you would notice, cherish and delight in me. But as this moment passes, I'm starting to realize something else: I already am.
Sometimes, it seems the entire world is on a mission to be noticed, cherished and loved. Each one looks to the surrounding people, things and ideas to prove one thing - we are worth the notice, we are worth the time. Oh how I wish they would consistently fill this longing, but my experience has shown me otherwise. Each idea, thing, and even person can't love us as deeply and furiously as we wish. That person doesn't stand up to defend us when our name is slandered. That idea fails to comfort us when we fall to the ground in despair over senseless acts of rage the day before.
Though I tend to look for affirmation in all three options, the one I fall prey to most often is people. I seem to daily forget the weaknesses of yesterday and forge forward to put my desire for deep, flawless love on them. However, I've come to notice something. People, even the best ones, have a tendency to let me down.
I have tried to let people fill me; I have desperately held them against a standard hoping against hope they will love me the way I want to be loved. Hoping they can wholly forget themselves and their own ideas to simply love me exactly where I'm at. As of yet, no one has been able to fill this goal because I've come to see - they're just as, if not more, heart-broken, lonely and afraid as I am.
We can't love people the way they want to be loved because we don't even know if we're loved. How can someone fulfill my heart's longing for love if their own heart is only half full.
But in the midst of this life, I've met someone else. Someone different.
His every fibre loves me more purely, more wholly than every other idea and thing I had put together. I wish I could explain this person to you, but I don't think I can. His name is Jesus or the One who sees or Healer, I could write story after story depicting pieces of how different He is, how totally breath-taking He daily proves Himself to be, how utterly committed He is to me. But...
I think He wants you to know Him; I don't think He wants you to keep reading someone else's story. He wants to etch your own journey.
Tonight at this moment, I'm sitting here wishing for you - wishing you would notice, cherish and delight in me. But as this moment passes, I'm starting to realize something else: I already am.
Sometimes, it seems the entire world is on a mission to be noticed, cherished and loved. Each one looks to the surrounding people, things and ideas to prove one thing - we are worth the notice, we are worth the time. Oh how I wish they would consistently fill this longing, but my experience has shown me otherwise. Each idea, thing, and even person can't love us as deeply and furiously as we wish. That person doesn't stand up to defend us when our name is slandered. That idea fails to comfort us when we fall to the ground in despair over senseless acts of rage the day before.
Though I tend to look for affirmation in all three options, the one I fall prey to most often is people. I seem to daily forget the weaknesses of yesterday and forge forward to put my desire for deep, flawless love on them. However, I've come to notice something. People, even the best ones, have a tendency to let me down.
I have tried to let people fill me; I have desperately held them against a standard hoping against hope they will love me the way I want to be loved. Hoping they can wholly forget themselves and their own ideas to simply love me exactly where I'm at. As of yet, no one has been able to fill this goal because I've come to see - they're just as, if not more, heart-broken, lonely and afraid as I am.
We can't love people the way they want to be loved because we don't even know if we're loved. How can someone fulfill my heart's longing for love if their own heart is only half full.
But in the midst of this life, I've met someone else. Someone different.
His every fibre loves me more purely, more wholly than every other idea and thing I had put together. I wish I could explain this person to you, but I don't think I can. His name is Jesus or the One who sees or Healer, I could write story after story depicting pieces of how different He is, how totally breath-taking He daily proves Himself to be, how utterly committed He is to me. But...
I think He wants you to know Him; I don't think He wants you to keep reading someone else's story. He wants to etch your own journey.
Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Brave
I have started to feel like God has made a habit of pushing me 10 steps farther than I'm ready.
Tonight, I drove past an accident and the fleeting thought I couldn't escape was, "Those people need someone to pray for them."
Do you ever hear that voice and almost immediately feel throat strangling fear fill your entire body? I nearly started crying, in my heart I wanted to obey, but in my flesh I was so scared. Scared of saying the wrong thing, scared of stepping into a place I shouldn't be, scared of bringing more pain into a situation that was already grim.
I wrestled through these thoughts as I drove home and decided to walk over. But by the time I got there, the ambulance drove away with the lights off.
And there I stood overcome with grief. What would have happened if I was brave enough? Would this family be sitting on the side of the highway praising God for His miraculous healing? Would there be people with hope that minutes before had none?
Nothing I had done the week before seemed to matter anymore. I have seen God work in people's lives while I was in my comfort zone, but I almost didn't care. It didn't matter that I don't feel ready to step into things like this or that I long for someone to walk with me into these things. The only thing that mattered was that I had stepped away.
Seconds before, I was verbally speaking God's promises over my life. You see, these months have been hard, harder than I thought I could handle. And today I was swimming in a pool of despair. In the midst, I was reminded of my dear friend's words to verbally speak God's truth when we most need to know it. So that's what I started doing, I was driving shouting promises to myself and in the process was finding my whole heart attitude changing.
And then I got scared. In the midst of me finding truth for myself, I could have given it to someone else. But I kept it for myself. Nothing would seem better than for me to let myself be overcome with guilt and to be honest, I feel that is what I should, logically thinking, do. But I don't think that's what walking forward is about.
"Can I help you become brave?" Those are the words of someone who always pushes me harder than I think I can go. Someone who loves me enough to let me fail on the way to becoming who I was always created to be. Someone who always brushes the dirt off my face and helps me start walking again.
I love Him.
Tonight, I drove past an accident and the fleeting thought I couldn't escape was, "Those people need someone to pray for them."
Do you ever hear that voice and almost immediately feel throat strangling fear fill your entire body? I nearly started crying, in my heart I wanted to obey, but in my flesh I was so scared. Scared of saying the wrong thing, scared of stepping into a place I shouldn't be, scared of bringing more pain into a situation that was already grim.
I wrestled through these thoughts as I drove home and decided to walk over. But by the time I got there, the ambulance drove away with the lights off.
And there I stood overcome with grief. What would have happened if I was brave enough? Would this family be sitting on the side of the highway praising God for His miraculous healing? Would there be people with hope that minutes before had none?
Nothing I had done the week before seemed to matter anymore. I have seen God work in people's lives while I was in my comfort zone, but I almost didn't care. It didn't matter that I don't feel ready to step into things like this or that I long for someone to walk with me into these things. The only thing that mattered was that I had stepped away.
Seconds before, I was verbally speaking God's promises over my life. You see, these months have been hard, harder than I thought I could handle. And today I was swimming in a pool of despair. In the midst, I was reminded of my dear friend's words to verbally speak God's truth when we most need to know it. So that's what I started doing, I was driving shouting promises to myself and in the process was finding my whole heart attitude changing.
And then I got scared. In the midst of me finding truth for myself, I could have given it to someone else. But I kept it for myself. Nothing would seem better than for me to let myself be overcome with guilt and to be honest, I feel that is what I should, logically thinking, do. But I don't think that's what walking forward is about.
"Can I help you become brave?" Those are the words of someone who always pushes me harder than I think I can go. Someone who loves me enough to let me fail on the way to becoming who I was always created to be. Someone who always brushes the dirt off my face and helps me start walking again.
I love Him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)