The Millionth Time’s the Charm

 

This week has been nothing but solid encouragement.  I used to pray that God would break me, make me completely uncomfortable, tire me of the strength I always pretended to have, to be vulnerable, and open, and aware of how dependent I am on Him. 
I think I’ve talked so much and to so many people in the last 5 days that my throat is starting to feel a little dry.  Before I got here… that just wasn’t me.   I’ve broken a lot of “never-will-I-evers” I’d previously possessed since I got here; that one takes the cake.

I also used to pray that God would show me real community.  When I first read about that first church in Acts, I fell in love. 

“Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but they had everything in common. And with great power the apostles were giving testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all.” – Acts 4:32-33

I never really took into account that I had to be open with people before they could be my community, though.  I was too often discouraged with the Body, accusing fellowship of being fake or empty.  I didn’t know I was a part of the problem.  I was fake with the Body. 

Sharing my joy was always easier than sharing my burdens, so the people I loved often only saw one side of me.   But, there is so much beauty in letting my family carry my burdens with me that I’ve been missing all this time.  I praise God His love for me that I am seeing in my peers as they care, and carry.  I praise His pursuits for me and the people He’s kept here, waiting for this, waiting for me. 
I heard this song, and though I am not a fan of the style at all, I really liked these words:

Last time we spoke, you said you were hurting,
And I felt your pain in my heart;
I want to tell you that I keep on praying,
Love will find you where you are,
I know cause I've already been there,
So please hear these simple truths:
Be strong in the Lord and never give up hope,
You're going to do great things; I already know,
God's got His hand on you so don't live life in fear,
Forgive and forget, but don't forget why you're here.

It’s been such an amazing occurrence to see the family of God come together to lift up the broken parts, working simultaneously to heal, working for His purpose, and most definitely to His glory.  I’ll just keep standing in awe of that. 

I am filled to empty, to be humbled… to be reminded that I’m nothing if not desperate

 

“For the death he [Jesus] died to sin, once for all, but the life he lives he lives to God.  So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.” -Romans 6:10-11

When I finally let God break me all the way, I saw nothing but the ground.  Face to face with all my weakness in the dirt that was my own shame, all the brokenness I tried to conceal with my empty smile and glamour entirely revealed, I was relieved to be defeated. 

I was relieved to be fully convinced that I am still in need of Him.  I am still nothing without Him, and nothing in the world that I have found has been able to satisfy that in me.  

I’d done a good job so far of victimizing myself.  I began separating myself from God a long time ago, with each day I spent away from Him telling myself I didn’t know how to be near Him.  It started with the notion that I could just quit listening for a while, until it go to the point that I couldn’t remember how to hear Him anymore.  And I liked the way my thoughts sounded better.  And I didn’t like that I didn’t look like everyone else in the world anyway.  And I let myself fall out of love with God—because I traded Him for the world.  All along I’d been imagining God standing with His back to me as each attempt to be more glorious than Him, each selfish thought, each night, each drink, each kiss, made me more numb.  I imagined wrong, though.

Because I turned my back on Him before any of that happened.  I let myself fall for the world – that looked so pretty, so enticing, so easy- and I broke His heart in the midst.  And when I got to the inside (of the world), it wasn’t beautiful at all.  It was disgusting.  It was filled with .. nothing, absolutely nothing that I was looking for.  It was ugly.  And I was ugly for my attachment to it.

In the shame of all I’ve let myself sell into, I didn’t want to face Him.  There is truth to the fact that I’m not good enough to do so.  He is so good; and I am nothing in comparison to that.  But the point of the cross wasn’t only death, but counteractively to the death of sin, life in Christ.  He died for redemption.  He died to free.  I don’t have to stand before Him with just my flesh; if that were the case, then I wouldn’t be able to.  I can stand before Him with the cross, though.  With full confidence that Jesus has interceded for me.  That his death wasn’t for nothing, but for everything that I’m fighting for now.

I am doing my best to allow my heart to be emptied of all my greed for things, and rather let it cling to Him in the process.  I am falling back in love with who He is, because I am seeing how great His love is for me.  How long He’s been standing there for me, just waiting for me to turn around. How nothing I’ve done has made Him any less of what He is.  How He can stay so faithful to a daughter that has been nothing but faithless.

I’ve got doors and windows boarded up; all your dead end fury is not enough.

 

I didn’t really prepare for college much-- emotionally.  I figured it’d be tough and all that… but I didn’t anticipate this, in all honesty.  When I left for college, I was comfortable with where I was at.  Problem number 1.

I hold firmly to the belief that our Father is never done teaching us things.  Never, at any one point in time, have I truly believed that I was finished learning.  The minute I pretend that I don’t have anything left to learn is the same minute I’m de-glorifying the power of God.  Sometimes it feels like I’m just saying that, though.  I can’t help but think that if I really believed that, it should be easier to keep my heart open to the things He’s trying to show me, mold it into a teachable device. 

I guess on some accounts I have kept it open; this blog is here after all. 

College is hard though, guys.  I wasn’t prepared to be so lost when I got here.  When everything is entirely overwhelming and you start seeing things in yourself you didn’t think existed, all you want is to hold on to something a little familiar.  You want to find a ground that you can stand on with both feet, feel confident in anything that you’re doing.  I haven’t had a moment like that yet. Nothing about this place is familiar; nowhere feels like a place I really belong.  And all I’ve done since I’ve gotten here is forced things that are completely unfamiliar into a person I recognize less and less.  A person I know cannot be me, a person I definitely don’t want to spend the rest of my time here becoming.  It is completely confusing to hold these thoughts at the same time that I’m forcing all that unfamiliarity in. 

I’ve always been so arrogant, and stubborn; I never want to admit when I can’t do something on my own.  I always liked to convince myself that I could fix my own heart; I could change it for myself.  I can’t.

But that stubbornness is also what keeps me here.  In this place.  I’m not moving.  I will not be moved from my faith in a God that is bigger than all of it.  I refuse to believe that anything I’ve done has made Him any less of what He is.  I refuse to give into a lie the world is trying to sell to me at such a cheap price that it could ever replace what He’s done to my heart, what He’s done to my life; I could never deny that He gave me life.  Even when I don’t know how to talk to Him; even when I find that the hardest thing to do is stand before Him. 

I am afraid I’ve lost sight of who I am to Him.  I am afraid sometimes that He couldn’t possibly recognize me now, when I don’t recognize myself.  I fear He should be about ready to give up on me; I would be.  But some tell me He’s too good to let me go.  I want to believe that, because in my heart, I am fully aware He’s everything I’m not.  He is so much more than I need to be. 

This song (Wedding Dress by Derek Webb) breaks my heart a little every time I listen to it, because I know I’m breaking His:

If You could love me as a wife
and for my wedding gift: Your life
Should that be all I’d ever need
or is there more I’m looking for?

and should I read between the lines
and look for blessings in disguise
To make me handsome, rich, and wise
Is that really what You want?

I am a whore, I do confess
But I put You on just like a wedding dress
and I run down the aisle
I run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
but I put You on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle to You

So could You love this bastard child
Though I don’t trust You to provide
With one hand in a pot of gold
and with the other in Your side

I am so easily satisfied
by the call of lovers so less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over Your very flesh and blood

Because money cannot buy
a husband’s jealous eye
When you have knowingly deceived his wife.

I am a whore, I do confess
But I put You on just like a wedding dress
and I run down the aisle,
I run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
but I put You on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle to You

I talked to a few good friends today, friends from home.   It was a relief to have that reminder that there are people who still see me, when I can’t see a thing.  I was really missing the things that were able to remind me I have a higher potential, that has nothing to do with what I can do at all—His name is Jesus.  It was like that familiarity was enough to show me this fight- that is so exhausting, so wearing- is still worth it.  Because He’s still fighting for me.

“Don’t give up, because you want to be heard; if silence keeps you, I will break it for you.”

 

Ever play a song so many times you just know it’s going to be worn out by the end of the week, but you keep playing it over on end anyway?  The Troy Tones a cappella version of You Are Loved (Don’t Give Up).  Check that one out; it’s only available on iTunes.  Well-worth the purchase.  If you bought the South High Spring Revue CD, it’s on there, sung by Emily.

I’ve been studying for my Chem exam like a mad woman, but I’m all Chem’ed out for the moment and I’m waiting to meet with my Cru leader so I thought I’d kill some time bloggin’ away.

Last night was the first round in Life Eggs.  I was almost brought to tears… and I haven’t even delivered mine yet.   I’ll take it as a good sign.  There was just something about the honesty and openness of the other girls that was really… inspiring.  And convicting in a weird way.  They did it; there were real struggles shared, hard stuff that they didn’t even know me well enough to trust me with.  It’s only fair that I be equally trusting and tell the whole truth.

And timing was all so interesting because I’d been listening to that song over and over, and thinking about how God never intended for us to go through these hurts and struggles alone.  I’d just gotten so comfortable with everyone at arms length, that I forgot what it was like to have community, to have people that are there to encourage you and talk about the hard stuff, walk in the struggle with you and address where He is present—remind you of His truths when the lies you tell yourself are filling up your own head.  God works through people that way.  I think I used the excuse too often that I couldn’t depend on anybody but God, and didn’t even recognize Him when He was prying through the words of someone who cared about me.

God intended us for community. 

And they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.  And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles.  And all who believed were together and had all things in common.  And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need.  And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God ([together, they did that]) and having favor with all the people.  And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved. – Acts 2:42-47

Fellowship, guys.  He created us for togetherness, in Him; He intended for us to walk alongside each other, and I haven’t allowed anyone to be next to me for so long… Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know how to let someone be near me, stand close to me-- much less show me any kind of comfort.  I guess I’m just really lucky that my God is such a persistent God in His pursuits for me. 

I praise Him the people He’s used to break me.  I praise Him the people He’s still using to break me.  I praise Him there are still people that remember who I really am when I’ve forgotten.

Understanding that the Life Eggs are just the things that have made us who we are, pieces of our pasts, makes the whole thing a little bit easier.  And Paul always said that if we have anything to be proud of, it is only our struggles.  Because that means we’re boasting in God’s power to heal.  I found it funny today that to me, “the past” is synonymous with “the struggle.” 

I’ve got something to be shared there, at least.  How else could I even begin to show how remarkable God has ever been made evident to me?

“Come and listen; Come and listen to what He’s done.”

 

The human heart is a complex structure.  It’s got its storage space, spare bedrooms, locks and keys, dusty attic, cold basement.  And windows.  Can’t forget those windows.  Maybe my heart was made with only one window.  Maybe the window is really small.  And maybe its hidden behind shutters. Or a door, a locked door. 

I know that’s not the case, but it seems that way sometimes.  Sometimes my heart seems so… out of reach.  Like maybe even if I found the key and opened that door, or drew open those shutters, there might be a screen, and then curtains.  Anything and everything to keep you out… or everything inside.

Analyzing this for the umpteenth time only reminds me that I don’t want to—I refuse to be this person anymore.  I couldn’t be more genuine when I say that, this time, I really am done keeping everyone at a distance. 

I want Love to quit existing as this idea in my head, and become real in application.

I don’t want to lose all that He is making me.  Yeah, He’s breaking me.  And yeah, that’s really hard sometimes.  I fail.  A lot.  But I swear I’m learning.  And I know that if I just press through it, get through it… He’s going to use it. 

I have a love/hate relationship with this blog.  I won’t lie and say that it’s ever easy to be this honest.  It’s not.  I won’t pretend that I always want to press that square PUBLISH button, so that you can read this, read me, and know the truth.  But I always press it.  I haven’t kept anything in since I started this blog.  It’s all out, for us to see.  And I don’t even know what it’s for; I only know that it’s helped me to see this:

I never want to take someone that I really love for granted again.

I never want to see something that could be so beautiful rot to the core because of something I did.  Or even worse, didn’t do.

I never want to disappoint another person to save myself from feeling.

I don’t want to watch opportunities to give all that I am pass right by me.

The last thing I wanted to do was break your heart; and that was all I did.

I don’t want to look back at the things I destroyed for the rest of my life, and regret every attempt I never made to save them because I was too afraid.  Starting today.  Starting now.

But as for me, my prayer is to you, O Lord.  At an acceptable time, O God, in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness. – Psalm 69:13

Heal me; restore me.

Open that window and let a little air in; let a little of me out.  Or all of it.

“And that was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist”

 

A life egg: something that brings up the need to say that word I really hate (“egg”… not “life”).  A life egg: a compilation of events that have shaped us.  A life egg: what my Cru girls are doing these next couple of weeks.  A life egg: my next test in vulnerability. 

The whole point of the egg is to show the other girls in our group where and what exactly we’re coming from.  It’s not like I can just preface the thing with, “Oh hey, by the way, this makes me more than uncomfortable; I don’t even know you guys.”  How do I explain to the group that I just don’t do stuff like this?  Especially because I want them to feel comfortable around me; I want to be open and share too.  Or I guess, want to want it.

I felt like after I began to open up, it was supposed to get easier from there.  Like after doing it a few times, it was supposed to feel like less of a challenge.  But in all actuality, it’s much harder.  As I’ve started to peel back these layers to get a look at my own heart (to show it to you… and everyone), I’m only realizing that there’s more bulk than I ever cared to notice before.  It runs a lot deeper than I ever saw.

“Some things we
don’t talk about,”
He says.
And I close my lips,
hold my breath
Hold my heart away from my head--
from what I’m thinking,
all the words I want to say.
All my world is crumbling now.
And my eyes watch
each piece on the ground,
bounce with no precision,
nothing is constant--
this is out of control.
This isn’t me,
this is not how I work;
I can’t function like this.
And I think,
maybe I should leave;
maybe I should walk,
put my feet to the ground-
feel something beneath me,
feel how something is
holding me up.
Feel the weight of gravity.
But I can’t let me leave;
tied here, I stay.
Some things we
don’t talk about,
And some things we
just don’t do.
No, I don’t scream;
I retreat with conflict; I run constantly.
I avoid fights;
except to fight for you;
I can’t just walk away,
not like this,
not right now.
But, I hold my breath--
some things we just
don’t talk about.

Today, at The Crossing, the pastor brought up a point that I feel I’ve always come up with in mind, and just never put words to.  He said that we often counter the word “love” with “hate,” but that he believed the exact opposite of love is selfishness.  Number one cause of my largest guilt: selfishness.  I have become consumed by the opposite of Love.  No wonder I can’t hear Him; my own voice is louder in my head. 

In light of these struggles, someone told me that if I was doubting— to doubt, as long as I took guilt out of the equation.  And it hit me at that moment: I don’t doubt love at all.  If there is one thing I believe in at all it is love.  That much is easy.  I don’t for a minute doubt that God is … God.  And that He is love.  I believe in Love like it’s all I have left (because that is all we have); it’s myself that I can’t trust for a second.  I don’t believe in me. 

These days, I’m trying to put a connection between that and the Truth that I don’t have to believe in me, in what I’m capable of… because that’s what Jesus was for.  He did what we were not capable of doing on our own. 

“If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,

O Lord, who could stand?

But with you there is forgiveness,

that you may be feared.” – Psalm 130:3-4

Heart, let go of your angry grasp on all you want to do on your own.  Heart, break.  Heart, no; you are not capable.  Heart, you don’t need to be. 

Heart, break.

“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.