Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Abba Unending



Tears flow freely as the new struggle begins.  Every waking breath taken means one more step toward freedom.  Moments of questioning fill days of learning trust; aching pain flows, yet the feeling of being carried abounds.  Grace flows new; desperation seeks more.  Longing breaks a heart once cold; prayers flow down a face seeking His.  Unending fears fight for courage to lose, to break down and fall.  Yet, for some reason He’s still there.  Still listening to her endless prayers to be heard, still listening as she cries angry, sings happy, pleads guilty.  Messy seems to be her life story; but redemption is His story for her.  How He sings over her, redeeming love, faithful love, unending love; but she whispers, tears streaming, “Oh, how can it be?  Why me?”  She fights to understand His love; fights to understand what He did for her.  Moments oppress; courage fights.  Fear tries to tear her down, but she finds herself begin to be willing to do the hard things.  Whatever it takes.  She’s done.  No more.  No more of this surviving and simply making it through.  No more going her own way.  No more letting go of His hand.  No more.  Now she’ll wait.  She’ll become His.  Because He sings, “You’re my beloved.  Love of my life, look deep in my eyes there you will find what you need.  I'm the giver of life.  I'll clothe you in white.  My immaculate bride you will be.  Oh, come running home to me.” 
O my Strength, I will sing praises to you, for you, O God, are my fortress, the God who shows me steadfast love.
                                                                    -Psalm 59:17

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Continued Desperation


             The pain washes in again, deep scarring pain.  Confusion surrounds echoing halls of the no longer peaceful.  I hear songs of holding onto God’s promises, but I can’t sing them.  I hear that His love is everlasting, but I can’t feel it.  I can’t sing and I can’t feel; it seems so desolate.  I’m desperate for Him to love me; I’m desperate for healing.  I’m desperate to know His heart; I’m desperate.  I’ve been on this particular journey so long, and I’m aching-filled with pain.  I’m exhausted by my own self-protection.  I’m the self-proclaimed righteous who is bound.   I want freedom; no longer do these chains appeal to me.  Whatever these hard things are that I must go through, I’m willing.  No longer will I stay chained.  Jesus died for me, even though I don’t understand it.  His blood washes over me.  He did EVERYTHING; now I AM DONE.  Finished.  With this life.  I am choosing whatever He wants to give to me to free me into new life.  What He asks, I will do.  If that means giving up certain things I love for periods of time or maybe forever, tearfully, willingly I will do what He asks.  I’ve never felt the way I do right now.  I’m beginning to understand my need for God.  It’s a desperation.  I don’t care if I look silly or crazy, but I’m on my knees asking.  Hands outstretched, begging like the nothing I am without Him.  Reaching for those promises that I keep reading about.  If He would ask Hosea to love a prostitute, then He would love me, the broken repeater.  If He would heal a woman whom everyone else shamed while He chose to pour love on her in spite of law, then He would love me the dirty idolater.  How to accept this love?  How to know it?  Crying out, “Abba!  I need you now!”  Crying ragged.  Crying broken.  Crying pain.  Crying anger.  Crying ache.  Crying fear.  Crying longing.  And oh, how they tell me He understands.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

A New Desperation



Desperation-why don’t we have more of it?  Lately, I’ve been reading some of the stories of the things Jesus did for people.  The one that sticks out to me the most right now is the story of the woman, who touched the hem of His garment.  In a book that I’m reading that has the story in it, the author spoke about the fact that in that day, she was considered completely unclean, basically an outcast.  She had spent much of her life with a condition that by law in that day made her ceremonially unclean.  What must she have thought when she heard that Jesus was coming?  She had tried everything possible to find healing, and with growing desperation, she probably thought He was her last and only hope.  As she pushed through the crowd, I wonder if Jesus kept thinking through each moment, knowing that she was getting closer.  Was love full through His mind as He waited, knowing?  When she touched His clothes, I can’t imagine what she felt or what washed over her.  All I know is that it was the most restoring thing in her life.  We are all like that woman.  Wrecked, and bleeding.  Wanting so much more, feeling a pull toward something.  There are days when it feels like faith is so small; we wonder if God is big enough.  Yet, I look at her faith, real and aching faith, and I see how she pushed toward Him.  A journey of bruises and dirty looks, maybe even people yelling at her, but she pushed toward someone greater.  Could it have been that if she didn’t have that great faith, that she might not have been able to touch Him?  If she had wavered and cared what others thought, would her faith have made her whole? If I'm like her, where is my desperation?  I need a new desperation.  A desperation that comes from need.  A need that comes from who I am as a Child.  A Child who comes from the epitome of grace.  Grace that came from One, One called Jesus.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

The Beginning of the Beginning of Trust

Valentines Day.  And I feel like I've already failed part of my Lent.  I want to be angry and frustrated and berate myself, but I'm learning that Jesus is asking none of these of me.  I don't understand His Father heart, though I long to.  Satan tries to very hard to get me to knock myself down with failure, and fear is extremely evident in me right now.  Is this part of learning to trust God's heart, that even in the mistakes and bumps that He is still good and that He is still in control?  If my Daddy is trying to teach me this, I want to reach out and accept that today.  Realization dawns that this is what it means to go to the foot of the cross, to the feet of the very One who died on that cross, and simply surrender, not only dreams and desires, but also mistakes and self-imposed failures.  To stop thinking that I am so much more important that I should be allowed to hang onto my pain, instead of taking it to Him.  To stop hoping that I don't have to go through that pain.  But, to start pouring out a heart of messy to a Savior of order, to start loving out of what He has done in my heart in spite of the deepest pain, and to glorify and honor in spite of circumstances.  If He is singing over me like He says He is (and He truly is), why do I throw away His song?  So in this new journey of trust, broken, scarred hands and heart, hold each other out, hold out the pieces and take another shaky new step toward His heart.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.  In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He WILL make your paths straight."
                                                                     -Proverbs 3:5,6