I just want to be clear on something.
If I could, I would bottle every positive comment made, compliment expressed, smile given in reference to these blog postings so that I could actually drink them. I am that prideful. After I've posted a new blog, I check it regularly for the next several days to see if someone has commented on something I have said. I was surprised, pleasantly surprised, when someone I didn't know read the blog and commented about how it had uplifted her for the day. I relished the idea that something I said had done that for her. I am that prideful. I have known, for a long time, that God granted me the gift of writing. He blessed with the ability to string words together in such a way that you would read it and enjoy it and probably want to hear more. He did all the work, but I want all the credit. I am that prideful. Sometimes, I reread my words over and over out loud and to myself because I am so please with how they sounded and how perfectly they captured exactly what I was trying to say. And, I forget about God and His gift-giving, all together. I am that prideful.
I am that prideful.
And, I am that insecure.
For all of my life, I have sought the affirmation of others. I have tap danced my feet to oblivion just to hear the applause. I have joked and flung sarcasm just to hear the roar of laughter. I have lied and pretended to create a better story. I took what others said about me and my life and my appearance and my worth and my personality and my writing and have used it as the very food needed to keep on living. I have been on a self-worth high thanks to the smile or accolade from someone else. I have groveled in the self-worth pit of mud and muck thanks to a jeer or rejection from someone else. I have ridden the roller coaster. I have surfed the ebb and flow. I have trekked the valley and scaled the peak.
And, it has gotten me nothing.
So, I just want to be completely clear on this:
I am a fraud. I am useless. I am wrong most of the time. I cannot do what I say I can do. I did not do what I said I did. I will not do what I said I would. I am afraid of more things than I could ever list. I am weak. I am puny. I am slime. I am scum. I am wretched. I am gross. I am stupid. I am unlovable. I should not be trusted. I am a liar. I am a cheat. I am crooked. I am terrible with money. I do not deserve anything that I have been given. I should be put to death. I should be thrown out. I should be cast aside. I should never have been given a second chance. I am completely unworthy.
So, if you happen to see ANYTHING other than the things I have just listed, please recognize that you have seen a miracle that ONLY the Lord God can do, through His Spirit. It is by His Grace and through His mighty hand that I am anything other than what I have listed above.
I just want to be completely clear on this.
"But, by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace to me was not without affect. No, I worked harder than all of them - yet, not I, but the grace of God that was with me." I Corinthians 15:10
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
The Juggler
He told me to shut up and stand still.
I tend to like the stories more about Him comforting and loving His children, and I promise I don't question His love for me. I just thought He would be less.... cut throat when He spoke. I had hoped He would be calm and quieting and maybe just whisper a breezy revelation into my ear. But, no. Not for me. It was more of a close-up shout that blew my hair up, away from my face, and caused me to close my eyes to avoid eyeball windburn. I could have smelled what He had had for dinner. His voice, although raised, was still loving, but it had the "And don't talk back to me, young lady!" timber to it; the kind you don't question. And, so, I didn't question it. I just nodded my head in reverence, slumped my shoulders, and turned to do what I knew I had to do.
My brother can juggle. He taught himself in college. He started with little bean bags and worked his way up to fruit from the produce section of the supermarket. Then, my mother "helped" him work his way back down to things that were already purchased and not necessarily edible, for safety and sanitary reasons. And, I always thought I wanted to learn to juggle. My brother looked so cool doing it. But then, my life started needing to be juggled and it stopped looking so cool. And, I kind of wished it was just my brother who knew how to keep things in the air long enough to toss something else up, and I wished it were just bean bags or even fruit from the produce section of the supermarket and not my own life that was being tossed up.
Asking for God's direction is not for the faint of heart. Seriously. If you're going to ask, the next important thing to be ready to do is what He says. I get stalled in that second step sometimes. I ask, and then keep asking until He changes His mind and tells me what I want to hear. He hasn't ever changed His mind... so, it would make more sense to listen to Him the first time, wouldn't it? I know. I know.
So, somewhere between throwing something else in the air and catching another something as it was falling, God let me know that what He expected me to do was to shut up and stand still. He had probably been telling me to do this for some time, but I was too busy asking Him over and over again what He wanted me to do to hear His answer. I was dumbfounded. Stand still? Then, everything would fall.
But, then, I could put my arms down and stop juggling.
The wreckage was massive. The destruction awesome. Most of the things I had been juggling were totaled. My heart was broken. My life a mess. It has taken me years to sift through and clean up the pile of people, attitudes, thoughts, lies, feelings, situations, consequences, theologies, and ideas that I had been juggling for so long.
But, it has been in the clean-up that I realize that God knows what He's doing. A teeny, tiny part of His master plan revealed and understood by another teeny, tiny part.
Most of the things that I had been juggling shattered into a million pieces. And, when I dug down deep enough to find the shattered pieces, they weren't worth saving. I pointed to the shattered mess and yelled at God, "Look at what you made me do! How could you?" But, even as I yelled at God, I knew that I was the benefactor in the situation. He helped sweep up the last of the pieces and with a breath of redeeming love, He blew the dirt away to reveal a clean, unblemished spot where I could see His reflection.
Some things were broken but salvageable. Big pieces of relationships and ideas were recognizable. Finding all the pieces proved to be the hard part. But, I knew, at once, that I was to search the entire area to find those that were missing. I presented the pieces to God and asked Him to put back together something that I had caused to break, and without hesitation, He took the pieces from me and began to glue them back together with His Spirit, giving the glue time enough to dry and those of us involved time enough to heal. Reconstruction, although altered, is almost always stronger.
And, there were some things, more things than I realized, that were not phased, in the least, during the tumble. I saw these things as the solid, cornerstones on which to begin rebuilding my life. Promises and truths from His Word that stood the test of trial and tribulations. People who knew me better than I knew myself, who saw the fall coming, who committed to being there when it was time to move on. Parts of me that turned out stronger than I thought, more resilient than expected, steadier than what was shown before.
Years have passed. Time has healed wounds. Love has replaced fear. Priorities have changed.
God has remained the same through it all. Whispering breezy revelations to those who will listen, yelling for those who won't. Always ready to breath redeeming love into an empty vessel and reconstruct salvageable broken-ness.
Juggling occupies the hands. God occupies the heart.
The easiest way to stop juggling is to stand still and shut up.
I tend to like the stories more about Him comforting and loving His children, and I promise I don't question His love for me. I just thought He would be less.... cut throat when He spoke. I had hoped He would be calm and quieting and maybe just whisper a breezy revelation into my ear. But, no. Not for me. It was more of a close-up shout that blew my hair up, away from my face, and caused me to close my eyes to avoid eyeball windburn. I could have smelled what He had had for dinner. His voice, although raised, was still loving, but it had the "And don't talk back to me, young lady!" timber to it; the kind you don't question. And, so, I didn't question it. I just nodded my head in reverence, slumped my shoulders, and turned to do what I knew I had to do.
My brother can juggle. He taught himself in college. He started with little bean bags and worked his way up to fruit from the produce section of the supermarket. Then, my mother "helped" him work his way back down to things that were already purchased and not necessarily edible, for safety and sanitary reasons. And, I always thought I wanted to learn to juggle. My brother looked so cool doing it. But then, my life started needing to be juggled and it stopped looking so cool. And, I kind of wished it was just my brother who knew how to keep things in the air long enough to toss something else up, and I wished it were just bean bags or even fruit from the produce section of the supermarket and not my own life that was being tossed up.
Asking for God's direction is not for the faint of heart. Seriously. If you're going to ask, the next important thing to be ready to do is what He says. I get stalled in that second step sometimes. I ask, and then keep asking until He changes His mind and tells me what I want to hear. He hasn't ever changed His mind... so, it would make more sense to listen to Him the first time, wouldn't it? I know. I know.
So, somewhere between throwing something else in the air and catching another something as it was falling, God let me know that what He expected me to do was to shut up and stand still. He had probably been telling me to do this for some time, but I was too busy asking Him over and over again what He wanted me to do to hear His answer. I was dumbfounded. Stand still? Then, everything would fall.
But, then, I could put my arms down and stop juggling.
The wreckage was massive. The destruction awesome. Most of the things I had been juggling were totaled. My heart was broken. My life a mess. It has taken me years to sift through and clean up the pile of people, attitudes, thoughts, lies, feelings, situations, consequences, theologies, and ideas that I had been juggling for so long.
But, it has been in the clean-up that I realize that God knows what He's doing. A teeny, tiny part of His master plan revealed and understood by another teeny, tiny part.
Most of the things that I had been juggling shattered into a million pieces. And, when I dug down deep enough to find the shattered pieces, they weren't worth saving. I pointed to the shattered mess and yelled at God, "Look at what you made me do! How could you?" But, even as I yelled at God, I knew that I was the benefactor in the situation. He helped sweep up the last of the pieces and with a breath of redeeming love, He blew the dirt away to reveal a clean, unblemished spot where I could see His reflection.
Some things were broken but salvageable. Big pieces of relationships and ideas were recognizable. Finding all the pieces proved to be the hard part. But, I knew, at once, that I was to search the entire area to find those that were missing. I presented the pieces to God and asked Him to put back together something that I had caused to break, and without hesitation, He took the pieces from me and began to glue them back together with His Spirit, giving the glue time enough to dry and those of us involved time enough to heal. Reconstruction, although altered, is almost always stronger.
And, there were some things, more things than I realized, that were not phased, in the least, during the tumble. I saw these things as the solid, cornerstones on which to begin rebuilding my life. Promises and truths from His Word that stood the test of trial and tribulations. People who knew me better than I knew myself, who saw the fall coming, who committed to being there when it was time to move on. Parts of me that turned out stronger than I thought, more resilient than expected, steadier than what was shown before.
Years have passed. Time has healed wounds. Love has replaced fear. Priorities have changed.
God has remained the same through it all. Whispering breezy revelations to those who will listen, yelling for those who won't. Always ready to breath redeeming love into an empty vessel and reconstruct salvageable broken-ness.
Juggling occupies the hands. God occupies the heart.
The easiest way to stop juggling is to stand still and shut up.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
What Really Matters
My dad was the dunker. He and I had practiced out of the water several times, he telling me what he would say and when to grab my nose. So, when the time came, we executed the task with superb precision. I had gotten a little emotional when he asked me if I believed that Jesus was the Son of God and that He had come and died to take away my sins. At the time, I was embarrassed by the tears. Now, I am embarrassed that I was embarrassed - there never being a more appropriate time to be emotional. I came up out of the waters of baptism on that fine Wednesday evening to a line of proud huggers, mostly my parents' friends, and the promise of a robe and a crown and a soul-to-soul reunion with Jesus someday
I spent the next fifteen years trying to be good - not cussing, not drinking, not smoking, not having sex, not worshiping using instruments, not accidentally swallowing the wrong kind of bread during communion. You know, being good. Not sinning. There were a hosts of things listed in the Bible that I knew I shouldn't do. And, there were a host of things preached from every pulpit of every church I ever attended that also equalled sin that I was expected to abstain from. And, for whatever reason, I understood that if I wanted to be loved, saved, and accepted into heaven, I was to follow these laws; the ones from the Bible and the ones from the pulpit.
I was terrible at it. I was always finding myself in the middle of some kind of sin. And, then, I would think of one of those lesser-known sins (gossip, lying, gluttony) and really sink. And, since I couldn't seem to keep myself out of sin, I knew that I couldn't really be saved, loved, and accepted into heaven. I was only "in" for as long as I could be good, and I wasn't very good at being good. I was pretty sure I had been placed on probationary status there in the Book of Life and that at any minute, my sins would show up, God would roll his eyes, and thump me out of line but always allowing me to try again to earn my spot back. He was a gracious God, after all.
I do not know where I got the jilted and twisted idea that my actions, good works, and faith got me from point A to point B, and then God's grace took over, getting me from point B to the pearly gates of heaven and that robe and crown I was promised. And, I cannot pinpoint the day when Christ's sacrifice for me became real I cannot remember when I stopped thinking God's grace was the grout between the tiles of my righteousness and understood His righteousness was all there was. But, by the grace of God, I did come to understand. He was all I had. He was all there was.
Luke's telling of the Parable of the Lost Son resonates with me; more so these days than ever before. I had always pictured that lost son demanding his inheritance and then hustling himself right down to the local bar to blow it all. Luke 15:13 says he "... squandered his wealth in wild living..." That phrase gave way to my imagining all sorts of terrible sins that the Lost Son threw his money away on.
But, in truth, all of us suffer in wild living and money squandering without the saving Grace that Jesus brought us. No matter how good I am or how little I sin, I am nothing without Jesus and God's grace and mercy. Even in my best days of strong faith, good works, and letter of the law following, it amounts to nothing without Jesus. it's all pig slop without Him; every bit of it.
"But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him..." Luke 15:22a
I have been promised a robe and a crown. And some sweet day, I'll sing up there, wearing my robe and crown, the song of victory. Not because I have been so good. But, because He is.
I spent the next fifteen years trying to be good - not cussing, not drinking, not smoking, not having sex, not worshiping using instruments, not accidentally swallowing the wrong kind of bread during communion. You know, being good. Not sinning. There were a hosts of things listed in the Bible that I knew I shouldn't do. And, there were a host of things preached from every pulpit of every church I ever attended that also equalled sin that I was expected to abstain from. And, for whatever reason, I understood that if I wanted to be loved, saved, and accepted into heaven, I was to follow these laws; the ones from the Bible and the ones from the pulpit.
I was terrible at it. I was always finding myself in the middle of some kind of sin. And, then, I would think of one of those lesser-known sins (gossip, lying, gluttony) and really sink. And, since I couldn't seem to keep myself out of sin, I knew that I couldn't really be saved, loved, and accepted into heaven. I was only "in" for as long as I could be good, and I wasn't very good at being good. I was pretty sure I had been placed on probationary status there in the Book of Life and that at any minute, my sins would show up, God would roll his eyes, and thump me out of line but always allowing me to try again to earn my spot back. He was a gracious God, after all.
I do not know where I got the jilted and twisted idea that my actions, good works, and faith got me from point A to point B, and then God's grace took over, getting me from point B to the pearly gates of heaven and that robe and crown I was promised. And, I cannot pinpoint the day when Christ's sacrifice for me became real I cannot remember when I stopped thinking God's grace was the grout between the tiles of my righteousness and understood His righteousness was all there was. But, by the grace of God, I did come to understand. He was all I had. He was all there was.
Luke's telling of the Parable of the Lost Son resonates with me; more so these days than ever before. I had always pictured that lost son demanding his inheritance and then hustling himself right down to the local bar to blow it all. Luke 15:13 says he "... squandered his wealth in wild living..." That phrase gave way to my imagining all sorts of terrible sins that the Lost Son threw his money away on.
But, in truth, all of us suffer in wild living and money squandering without the saving Grace that Jesus brought us. No matter how good I am or how little I sin, I am nothing without Jesus and God's grace and mercy. Even in my best days of strong faith, good works, and letter of the law following, it amounts to nothing without Jesus. it's all pig slop without Him; every bit of it.
"But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him..." Luke 15:22a
I have been promised a robe and a crown. And some sweet day, I'll sing up there, wearing my robe and crown, the song of victory. Not because I have been so good. But, because He is.
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