The will to walk

My heart’s been on overload lately, and since my bipolar, over-active, under-active brain is hardwired to kick into action anytime my heart is disturbed, my brain’s been going nuts, too.  God’s been showing me so much about myself, good and bad, things He’s been doing that I’ve yet to take proper notice of and show thankfulness for, and things He wants to change in me that until now have hidden in the sulking recesses of my soul. 

 

I foresee this entry being a rundown, meandering-style, of the different things God’s been doing.  It’ll also be a general answer to the ever-popular “what’s new?” question.  Here goes.

 

A few weeks back, I went to my CrazyLove book study.  It’s supposed to happen biweekly, but two of the ladies involved have children who are one year old or younger.  So the schedule has to be fluid.  Anyway, I was going on and on about how when I feel distance between myself and God, when I know there needs to be a coming back of sorts, I seldom FEEL deep, throbbing sadness.  The picture I have in my mind of repentance looks like weeping and snotting all over yourself until you’ve cried it out and the weight is lifted.  That’s not really how it is for me most of the time.  It’s more “God, I’m so sorry I’m such a jerk.  Can you please just forget about this block of time and love me anyway?”  And I know He does, but the thing I kept going over and over with the girls that night was that I can’t make my heart feel what my head knew:  that the moment I ask and mean it, the forgiveness is done.  I wanted so bad to FEEL brokenness.  I think maybe we’ve been trained as passionate Jesus-followers that everything has to be an emotional experience.  Let’s face it, we’re an emotional generation (e.g. the divorce rate, how many  careers the average American will have over their lifetime, even the crazy amount of different shades of hairdye).  I won’t deny it in myself.  I mean, for goodness sake, my horoscope sign says my mood changes like the phases of the moon, and regardless of my skepticism of the stars determining your destiny, I can’t deny the moon thing. 

 

So the problem I was having was not knowing that God forgives me but feeling a more poignant sorrow over my sin. 

 

What it comes down to is trying to earn forgiveness.  See, I know in my head that grace is free.  Trying to earn it reminds me of that scene in Liar Liar where Jim Carey’s trying his hardest to say out loud that the blue pen in his hand is red.  All he ever gets out is “the pen is rrrrrrroyal blue!”  It’s the same with grace.  No matter how broken you are, no matter the tears or the wailing or the amount of fed-up-ness you feel with yourself, none of that makes you any less depraved.  I’d gotten it in my head that by me feeling and showing some display of emotion it either makes Him more ready to forgive me or makes me less indebted to Him because I want it so bad.  What a load of poppycock.  I think a parent or lover giving you a gift would much rather see you take the gift, thank them genuinely, and make use of it in the future than take the gift in some melodramatic display of emotion and then forget about it the next day.  Now if they take the gift, sob and thank you repeatedly and THEN make use of and cherish the gift, that’s another story, but still.

 

Moving on.

 

One of my friends is doing something that displays so acutely the love of Jesus, and I get to be a part of it.  Wow.  Her mom was killed in a car accident when she was 6.  A young man, 19 at the time, lost control of his vehicle or fell asleep (they’re not sure) and ran across the interstate and hit their vehicle head on.  He also killed two other people in the process, parents of several children.  Well, this man, Michael, apparently tried to contact her father a few years back and was basically met with “how dare you call my house.  I never want to hear your voice again.”  I don’t look at her dad in a bad way for this.  We’ve all got unforgiveness issues.  He must’ve just really loved his wife.  Anyway, she heard about this a while back, thought about contacting Michael to offer him some sort of forgiveness, and just didn’t, whether it was busyness or just a lack of urgency, who knows.  But this past weekend, the sense of urgency to contact Michael was reignited in her.  We stayed up praying and talking about this for hours into the night, and it was wonderful.  Not only was the sense of Christ’s presence and love tangible, but the sense of solidarity between the four people gathered was incredible.  We were all being allowed to be a part of seeing Christ’s empathy and grace be offered in a real-life way.  Now that she’s contacted this young man (although now he’s almost 40, I can’t help but think of him as he was when the wreck happened) and his mother in trying to track him down, we’ll be going up to Thornton, CO tomorrow so she can meet with him. Michael told her he’d thought of that wreck probably 23 out of 24 hours of everyday.  He’s become not a person struggling with guilt, but guilt itself.  That seems to be his only identity, and all she wants to do is offer him freedom, tell him he has nothing to feel guilty of, let him live, assure him that she’s been ok all these years and that God’s hand has never left her, even in the moment of that car crash 20 years ago.  How beautiful.  How massive of a thing and how small. 

 

Oh that we would live this way each moment, so willing to offer redemption.

 

Another friend of mine is struggling with depression.  It kind of runs in her family, but it’s only taken control of her just recently.  Let me just try and preface this by telling you that this girl is NOT an open book.  She hides things and bottles them up.  So when she told me and a few friends about the depression, it was a big deal.  Just saying it out loud and letting people know her weakness, that was an answer to prayer right there.  But she did more than that.  this week, when the tension in her head/heart reached a peak, she called people.  She didn’t call me, and I’m kind of glad.  Though I would’ve listened and prayed for her, I have little experience with depression, and although I try, I find it difficult to understand.  But the girls she called called me, and the next night we met to pray and share our hearts and command the forces of darkness out of her life through the blood of our conquering Savior.  She broke down.  She weeped.  I believe she was freed.  And I was allowed to be a part of it. 

 

I’m so blessed.

 

That’s another thing:  for so long I’ve told myself and other people that my best friends are elsewhere, Florida, Alaska, Jamaica.  And that’s still true.  There are people who live in those places that know my soul sometimes more than I’m comfortable with!  They take my intelligent thoughts and heartfelt revelations and know how to balance them with my rash judgments and inconsistencies, and it’s really just so comfortable and good.  I think maybe it’s Agape.  But I’m realizing that because those people I miss so much are scattered abroad, I’ve been so negligent and unthankful for the relationships God’s growing here.  It’s going to take time, more time than I’m used to because my Florida friends were formed in a pressure-cooker type environment of love and loss and sin and redemption and hilarity and worship.  But nevertheless, I HAVE soul friends here.  I HAVE people here whose lives are intertwining with mine in a chaotic and beautiful score of music.  These relationships could never negate the old (and continuing) friendships I have, but my goodness, what kind of self-centered friend bigot doesn’t take note of people whose hearts she’s being allowed to share?!  The Lord is ever blessing me with friends who surround me with love, the kind of love that corrects you when you’re overreacting and lets you cry when your heart is flooded and provides a wide space for you to roam free.  I’ll be grateful from now on, Father.  I’ll see better.

 

And last but definitely not least:  my parents are moving again, most likely cross country.  I followed them from Florida to Colorado for a few reasons.  It wasn’t so much because I couldn’t live without them near, although having them close would be my preference, but because I was ready for a change.  I wanted to prove to God that I was serious when I repented by jump starting my life with a crazy change.  And it’s been grand.  He’s done so much in me… I’m not quite sure if I’d recognize the me from a few years ago or want to hang out with her.  I’d probably just shake my head and make the tsk tsk sound more often than not.

 

Anyway, let me go back a few days.  On Sunday I went to my friend Sarah’s church.  The pastor was talking about exile, for what reasons it happened in the Bible.  The one that stuck with me was the example he gave of exile for holiness’ sake.  In Hosea 3, I think it was, God told the Israelites something like “I’ll send you into the wilderness without temple or sacrifice, without ephod or terebinth”.  Basically God was taking from them all the things He’d once given them that were purposed to point the Israelites toward Himself.  They were supposed to be tools but had become gods in themselves.  So He was stripping them of all other gods in order to bring them consecration to Himself and holiness.  The pastor said “would you be so bold as to ask for that kind of holiness?”  THAT is the question that stuck with me.

 

I went home that night and prayed.  I prayed more honestly than I’m used to praying, praying what’s actually in my heart rather than what I think I SHOULD want.  I told the Lord “God, I DON’T want that kind of holiness.  I don’t want exile or loneliness or even discomfort.  But I know I want You.  I want to want holiness that badly, and I hope that’s enough for You right now because it’s all I’ve got.”

 

Two days later I find out my family will be gone within months.

 

What a merciful God.