I Miss You So.

This morning, I came across a song that basically sums up the last two and a half years of my spiritual experience:

Beginning in August of 2008, I went through a period of explosive spiritual growth. God was opening my eyes to so many truths, and every day I was falling deeper in love with Him. I had so much joy, so much faith, so much expectancy. I could say with Job, "My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you," (42:8). I swore I would never go back to the way I was before. I swore I would never forget all the beautiful things He had shown me. I swore I would stay in that place of rest forever.

I broke my promise. Slid right back into the valley. Right back into complacency, discouragement, doubt. I'm not saying my spiritual life has been utterly unfruitful. I've still been seeking God, and I can definitely say I've experienced Him in some powerful ways since my spiritual high wore off. But it has been sporadic, and often fraught with the old insecurities and distractions and apathy. Something has changed. Sometimes when I'm praying, my heart will begin to ache because He seems so far away, and I'll whisper, "God, I miss you." 

This is the place I'm in the middle of right now, and to be honest, it terrifies me. The thought that for the rest of my life I'll be looking back on that brief moment of time when everything felt so right, and longing to be that person again. And I hear the Enemy taunting me, you'll never go back to that place. You failed once, and that's all you'll ever do. Try to climb out of the rut, you'll just find your mud-battered body sunk right back here. There is no escape.

Of course, it's a lie. God has promised great things for His kids. He has not called any of us to a life of mediocrity. His plans for us are so much greater than any American dream. He has already set us free.

Still, when you've been in the valley for such a very, long time, it's ridiculously easy to forget that truth. It's easy to give into the mentality that "this is as good as it's gonna get." Because we get tired of fighting. And waiting for things to change. And wondering if we did something wrong, or if there's something we're not doing right. 

But I have been to a better place. I have seen the face of God. It's not just a part of my past; it's a promise for my future. I don't know why I've been in this desert of waiting. And when I get scared that I'll be stuck here forever, I simply have to trust and pray that when God is ready for me to move, He'll open my ears to hear His voice and give me the courage to act. Maybe one day I'll look back, and this will all make sense. Even if it doesn't, I know God's plans are a heck of a lot better than mine, and I'll just have to rest in that. What I won't do is settle. By the grace of God, I will remember His promises to me. And I'll never give up hope. 

Tips for Surviving V-Day.

Valentine's Day is just one of those holidays: you either love it, or...you despise it with the burning passion of a thousand suns (strangely enough, it seems that singles by far tend to express the latter opinion).

And yes, like nearly every other holiday, it's completely over-commercialized (thank you, America). Still, I've always adored the idea behind it: a day to celebrate love. To tell the people you care about how special they are to you. To take a moment to recognize the beautiful people in your life. Which is why, even as a single person, I'm actually rather fond of Valentine's Day (and not just because of the chocolate--though that's definitely a plus).You see, when I'm focused on letting the people around me know that I love them, I find that I'm a lot less likely to throw a pity party for myself because there's no guy around to give me flowers.

This way of thinking applies to a lot more than a silly holiday. It relates to every day of our lives. Whenever I turn my thoughts towards myself (which is most of the time, unfortunately), I usually end up miserable. But when I shift my focus to loving others, putting their needs before my own, helping and encouraging the people I come into contact with, I suddenly become a much better person. I'm not feeling sorry for myself anymore, not feeling anxious and overwhelmed and inadequate.

Why is that? Because when we are loving, we are fulfilling the greatest commandment. When we are loving, our own self fades. When we are loving, God shows up.

We need to take the opportunity to love, every time it is given to us. Valentine's Day is just another excuse to do so. There are lonely people who need to know they're beautiful. There are broken people who need to know that they're loved. Even on the days when we feel alone in the world, we have to remember: God called us to live lives that are so much bigger than ourselves. And He promised to be with us every step of the way.

Hunger Pains.

At church today, our pastor told us about asking his four year-old son, "Why do you think God fed the 5,000 people with the loaves and fishes?" His son answered, "Because they were hungry."

I think it is one of the most beautiful responses to the story I have ever heard. Sometimes, we delve so deep into things, trying to come up with every complicated and intellectual interpretation possible, that we miss the simple, glorious truth. The people were hungry. So God fed them.

God loves it when His kids approach Him with hungry hearts. Especially when we come expecting to be filled. To come expecting used to sound prideful to me. What right do we have to expect anything from God? Until I discovered that God told us to. He calls it faith.

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.

"Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:7-11)

That is a radical promise! Jesus is not going to withhold those loaves and fishes from us, even if it takes the impossible to fulfill our need. He's just waiting for us to take Him at His word and start pressing in, seeking, asking, knocking. Insistently, to the point of being obnoxious even, as was illustrated with the parable of the persistent widow (Luke 18:1-8).

"And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?" (Luke 18:7-8). 

Imagine what incredible things would be accomplished for the glory of God if we actually believed all the things we say we do! It's easy to say we believe that the Bible is true, but if you look at it closely, it makes some pretty ridiculous claims. And we stuff those away in some abstract, theological concept instead of living it out as a part of our daily reality. Why are we so afraid of miracles? Why are we so shy of the impossible?

Because most of us are starving. Our faith isn't anywhere near the size of a mustard seed. We'd be lucky if we could see it under a microscope. We're wasting away in our apathy, and the saddest part is, we hardly even notice.

But if you stop for a moment, if you pay a little bit of attention to the whispers of your Spirit, I'll bet you can still feel that hunger pain. And when we realize we're hungry, we're in pretty good shape. Because as children of God, we know there is only One who satisfies, who has promised to always satisfy, every time. So come to the Father. Ask Him for bread.

 

The Joy (Joy, Joy, Joy) Down in My Heart.

I think, when Jesus said that in this world we will have trouble, I was subconsciously under the impression that He meant we were supposed to be miserable. Early on, I was taught that there is a difference between joy and happiness, something along the lines of happiness being the warm, fuzzy, and rather fickle feeling that depended solely on circumstances, and joy being a theological abstraction that you were somehow supposed to maintain at all times. The distinction seemed very wonderful to me at the time. I was all about definitions; they gave the world lines to color inside of. Clearly, this was back before I liked abstract art.

We all know feelings are, by their very nature, transitory. Which is why we're comfortable calling happiness a feeling, but not joy. Joy is too religious to be fleeting. Still, while I do believe joy is a choice to some degree, I also think it seems suspicious that someone could claim to have joy if there aren't some feelings of happiness, or peace, or something positive stirring inside them. Just like I'd be suspicious if someone claimed to be patient if they were actually fuming on the inside.

But I'm getting bogged down in definitions, and that's not what I intended. Not that my intentions matter all that much. Still, what I'm trying to get at is, it was kind of a revelation for me to discover that God actually likes to see me happy. No, I'm not talking about God-is-your-Santa-Claus theology. Because our ultimate happiness doesn't come from getting a beach house (surprise, surprise). True happiness comes from being in a relationship with Him. You should probably read that last sentence again, because if you're as jaded as I am, it probably went right through you.

God loves to see us smile. He loves to hear us laugh. I know because He tells me. Sometimes He whispers it in my ear when I'm singing to Him. Sometimes He shows me with little gifts, a bluebird stark against a gray sky. Sometimes He speaks it to me through the words of a friend.

Yes, He said we would have trouble. He said we would suffer. Welcome to the broken world. But He also said to take heart. He said that the burden is easy. He said that joy in Him is our strength.

I'll probably never grasp the depths of what joy is. Some mixture of conscious choice, and feeling, and (a ton of) grace. I can't describe it, really. Sort of like lava, or a rapidly-growing vine, or a geyser, surging upwards. And yes, it is something you can feel. It brings happiness with it. It happens when my eyes are fixed on Jesus--even if it's only for a second, a sudden glace in the midst of trouble. It makes me smile.

The Valley of Death and Dying.

I want these words to reach into something real. Something raw, and ugly. Messy and spilling over with bright blood, like being born, or dying. I'm sick of the intellectual. I am vomiting up thick chunks of the abstract, searing acid of the theoretical erupting from my stomach until there is only the empty.

I hate speaking from the other side of this computer screen, what I want is to grab your shoulders and shake you, what I want is to plunge my hands in brown sludge, up to my elbows, breathing in that stench. I hate words. I hate that they are weightless. Mere symbols, deferring meaning. Look, abstraction! See how it is impossible to avoid.

People are dying out there. Life is happening, in all its harsh dissonance, bullets exploding in your ears, or in the quiet moments, when the silence perches over you even louder, glaring. It means something. Maybe these words don't, but the bleeding that they are trying to describe does. I hate that I can only tell you this. I hate that I can speak of sobbing, but not wrap my arms around you.

SCREAMING. The world is on fire. I see the flames in your eyes. I see them whittle you to dust. There is no comfort I can give for this.

I hate that the truth sounds brittle when I speak it. I hate when I say God, and you have no idea what I'm saying. I hate when I say love, and you scoff and turn away. I do not blame you. How can I blame you? I am talking to myself. There is no solution for this.

My words mean nothing. They are beautiful and empty. They are shards of light, refracting. They shred my throat and stain the floor.

But You, oh God. You are the One who can save us.

This Altar of Dying & Dying Again.

Abba,

Thank You. For every single
reminder. Because when I remember
Your goodness, nothing
else even matters. I hear You
say beautiful. I hear You
whisper (my name), I love you.

Who am I? I'm Your girl.
Yours. I've always been Yours.
These hands, these thoughts,
these tears--not mine, never
mine. My God! You are
the One who carries me.

And this? This small
thing. Such a little thing.
Here, in my palms turned
upward. My heart
beating slower now, like peace,
like wonder, because

This has always been Yours.

Insert Clever Title Here.

I'm so tired, today. Probably because I haven't been sleeping well of late. Too many thoughts, circulating. Making the rounds, door-to-door, knock knock--I shout that no one's home. But I hear the knocking, all the same.

I don't know what to say. If I dug into Scripture, I'm sure I could find something. You can always find something, when you're looking. Is it terrible that it seems like too much effort at the moment?

We have to be careful, about these things. If we always act purely based on feeling, we are very sorry creatures indeed. Feelings have never been very reliable. They can be wonderful and beautiful, but that does not mean they are always true. They can be, of course. But only sometimes. I think this is what God means when He says the heart is deceitful. Partly, at least.

On the other hand, if we always act out of obligation, that is another dangerous thing. I am very good at obligations. Put it on a list, and I'll check it off. But obligations can become so very dirty, if your heart's not right. Which is sometimes a problem with me. Doing things because I'm supposed to, but on the inside I don't really mean it, on the inside I despise it. That's a little something called hypocrisy.

Then what's the answer, when your feelings and obligations don't match up? There is no answer, of course. Well, I suppose there is an answer, but I don't claim to know it. Even though I do pretend to know a lot of answers--but mostly they're just educated guesses. Mostly I'm still searching, mostly I'm still trying to figure this stuff out. Now hang on while I backpedal out of this digression.

So. Since I don't have the answer, I do a lot of praying about it. That is why I am head-over-heels in love with the prayer from Psalm 51: Create in me a pure heart, oh God, and renew a right spirit within me. Because my motivations tend to be very screwy. Yes, I want to do the right thing, but I also want to do it for the right reasons. I want to do it out of my love for God, not out of my fear of not being "good" enough. And I know that's what God wants, too.

Now I am laying here on my bed, still tired, but a little less so. Feeling a bit of contentedness, because I think God said what He wanted to. No, I didn't dig through Scripture. Sometimes that's what He tells me to do, and I'm trying to learn to do a better job of listening. Even on the tired days. But I guess this time, He decided instead to do the digging in my heart.