“The Antonym of me, You Are Divinity”

 

“Who is to condemn?  Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, the one who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us.”- Romans 8:34

I’m beginning to like the look of my words as they fill this space on my screen more and more.  I don’t want to make it seem, however, that everyday in my life is this dramatic and prodding experience, pulling insight and deep provocation from inside.  It’s not.  There are days that I wake up and go to class, eat lunch while cramming some serious studying, go back to class, and finish my day watching OTH without even taking a moment to appreciate, consider, or process anything.  There are days I barely use my brain at all, giving it a little rest—that, along with my heart.  There are days I pretend like I’m here to “live my life” and not stand in His name.  Those are the worst.

I have to say: dramatic and prodding experiences are draining, true.  But they are the most useful and rewarding at the end of the day.  The best days here yet have been the ones that have ended in a mini-breakdown, crying (yes, crying) and all.

As each day at the Zou makes the reality of My Present Starting New Life set in, all of it seeming more permanent as every second passes, I am forced to embrace not only change, but the fact that there are no longer people making choices for me in face of these changes.  I can’t go with the crowd on this one.  Such a simple question has become such a daily challenge for me: “Am I going to love the World today, or am I going to love God?”  Sounds like a no-brainer, right?  Is it weak for me to say that it isn’t?  At least not from where I’m standing. 

True Confession: it is an effort to choose God everyday.  It makes me feel incompetent.  But I am aware that I never regret my choice to live for Him instead of the world.  I may feel inadequate for having to choose at all; but I am inadequate when I choose the world.  I am never proud of that choice.  Because I know there is no balance.  It happens, nevertheless: I choose the world sometimes.  And that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out for a while… the recent underlying-not-everyday-consciously-but-most-days-at-least-unconsciously provoking question.  Why is it hard for me to choose what I want?

When I first decided that following the Way and the Truth and the Life was something that sounded at the very least appealing to me, I used to think if I could just juggle God… and my life… well, I’d have it made.  See, there was a disconnect. I wasn’t yet aware that God, and my life… weren’t two separate things.  I cannot juggle God and my life because when I make room for something else to become as valuable to my time, my mind, my heart—there’s nowhere for Him to belong.  He’s a big God.  There’s not enough room for Him, and the world, to occupy me.  Christianity ceased to exist as something that I did, and became something that I am.  Christianity became me.  Because I learned that,

“Those who are in the flesh cannot please God.”- Romans 8:8

There is no way for me to live for the World and for God simultaneously.  I have to choose daily what I’m here for, what I’m doing.  Why isn’t the right choice the one my mind automatically points to, even when it’s what I know my heart truly hungers for—to be closer to my Father?  It’s like a Tug of War where my Body (my Flesh) is on one side of the rope, my Heart on the other, my Mind caught in the middle, the product of its inspiration, my Actions, being the flag.

“Come to Me, you who are weak;

Let My strength be yours tonight.

Come and rest; let My love be your bed.

Let My heart be yours tonight.

Peace be still, peace be still;

Please be still, and know that I am God.

Come, empty cup; Let Me fill you up.”

The truth is: my Flesh, disgusting and weighty, is strong. 

But the better (and more important) Truth is: my God is stronger.

He says, “Come, empty cup; Let Me fill you up.”  So for Him to do that, first my cup must be emptied completely of everything I’ve stored up for me that isn’t Him.  My cup must be emptied of me.  And that is exactly what I’m doing: learning how to empty my cup, so He can fill it.  So He can fill me, again.