My Humanity

It seems more of my days could be categorized as messy than not. I easily give in to stress and work and distractions. As a result, I wander from truth, and life, and peace. My time is spent on good activities, but activities which are not driven by purpose. And although I spend time with God, I give him the leftovers of my struggle against the twenty-four hours in each day.

Today, the struggle was especially grueling.

After an exhausting week of back-to-school madness, I traveled to work around eleven this morning, and faced fast-food fury. I left forty minutes after the inferred end of my shift. I hurried home, ate a late lunch, and left again, only to work (for pay) in flower beds for another two hours. I was especially fatigued due to a small sinus infection.

As I traveled from place to place, Rend Collective played in my stereo.

With a weary mind, I listened to the joyful songs. And I asked God if it was possible to be bright when I did not feel like smiling. Is it possible, God, to rise like an angel when I feel so exhausted? Is it possible to be radiant for you everyday? Although I wasn’t sure how, I had to believe He wanted to use the days in which I felt so disabled to make His light shine all the more in me. 

As I said good night at the end of this day, He met me.

I read today’s entry of Jesus Calling (which is a great devotional, by the way). And it said,

“Doing countless unnecessary activities will dissipate your energy. When you spend time with Me, I restore your sense of direction. As you look to Me for guidance, I enable you to do less, but accomplish more.“

With these words, I realized God’s peace–much like His joy–lives outside the limits of circumstance. Instead, it is found in Him and in His presence alone. There is no way to attain the necessary energy–capacity to do work–outside of Him. And so as I struggle through each day, His presence is what will give me life, and strength, and purpose. This purpose will give me direction, and I will work with joy–and peace–through and in and for Christ.

My place of employment came to mind tonight.

I do not particularly like the fast food industry for many reasons, especially because it fosters a stressful environment. In order to pursue a job better suited to me, I recently handed in my two-week notice. It was made evident by a few people that I would be greatly missed.

I do not think this is insignificant.

In a place I did not want to be, God shined in me. I’m thankful that perhaps He was able to reveal something of Himself to those I worked with, not through my strength, but through His presence in me.

And so I trust Him. I trust Him to give purpose to my messy days. I trust Him to make something of me when I don’t feel like shining. I trust Him to be bigger than my humanity.

Trust in the Lord and do good.

Then you will live safely in the land and prosper.

Take delight in the Lord,

and he will give you your heart’s desires.

Commit everything you do to the Lord.

Trust him, and he will help you.

He will make your innocence radiate like the dawn,

and the justice of your cause will shine like the noonday sun.

Psalm 37:3-6

A New Song

So. This is senior year.

This season of living is for learning more, and growing deep, and and loving wide. It’s for comparing yourself to others less and to the Savior more–because you’ll never measure up. But you will grow into His nature. As you do so, you will be renewed. The oil of joy will be poured over your head, and the peace which is bigger than understanding will fill your heart.

The tasks seem overwhelming.

Each day will bring a new challenge to the table. Each week will present new hurdles to jump. Each quarter will showcase a new skill to master. But each semester will be won through little victories in the days and weeks and quarters in which you struggled. To new heights you will climb, experiencing in each step the love that is higher, and wider, and deeper than anything of this world.

You will fail.

Don’t let yourself believe you will be able to manage everything. If this were true, you would never have the chance to grow. So allow yourself to fail. And allow yourself to be forgiven. Receive the grace offered to you each day, hour, moment. And lean close into the Savior. His arms are wide for you. And don’t forget to drag others into that embrace beside you. Like that boy who sat beside you in your favorite class last year. And the girl who’s already feeling the pressure of her schedule, weeks before school starts. Or the friend who has broken pieces that need mending. Don’t forget about them. And expand your search to find others.

Don’t be afraid of saying, “yes.”

Say “yes” to those whom God places in close proximity to you. Have compassion–the desire to “suffer with.” As you experience the unfailing love of the Master, just extend it. Because it is the only important thing in this life. We are called to first love God with everything in us, and then to love our neighbors as ourselves. Don’t forget those things. Because those are the ones that will last. So say “yes!” when God asks it of you. Remember, he said “yes” to you, even while you were His enemy.

Make this the year you died to live.

In dying to yourself and your selfish wants, you find life in Jesus Christ. “To live is Christ, and to die is gain.” So make an effort to learn the art of selflessness–because underneath all the pain of the flesh, this is love. And this is life. And. This. Is. Christ.

So learn to love, little senior. And learn to sing a new song.

Oh sing to the Lord a new song,

for he has done marvelous things!

His right hand and his holy arm

have worked salvation for him.

Psalm 98:1 ESV

The World Wanderer

I used to think I was something in this world.

I was the Bible scholar (due to my being the pastor’s kid, I think), the believer, the one who knew herself and what she wanted too. Now I know that I’m just a wanderer upon the face of the earth. Much like everyone else, I presume.

Sometimes the reactions of photosynthesis, of which there are many, are easier to understand than myself. And to me, this is unsettling. I become frustrated and anxious when I cannot understand who I am. Consequently, my fears begin mounting. How can I comprehend the intricacies of creation when I cannot grasp the complexities contained within? I do not need to understand the world. But I want to do so, just as I want to know who I am–who I am created to be! In addition, I want to know what my tomorrow will look like–and how I will react to it. But I allude myself as the future alludes me. I cannot be fully known, nor can I fully know what lies ahead, with any nervous system understood by man. It takes a Superhuman and his brain to understand any human. And he always knows, which is both comforting and alarming.

We are human.

We are finitely infinite; only God sees every particle of who we are. From the hairs on our physical head to the scars on our emotional heart, he knows us. The most staggering thing is not that we are completely known, but that we are unconditionally loved. Would you love yourself if you could see everything God sees, from the perspective that God sees it? I do not think that I could love myself after a bitter taste of reality like that.

My doubts about myself and fear of tomorrow have left me somewhat empty. However, over the past year, I have found that God is faithful. He makes many promises, but he is faithful to keep them all. He does say he loves unconditionally, that he always gives grace, that he continually extends forgiveness. His mercies are new every morning and he will never leave or forsake me. I really don’t need to know myself or see the future so long as I have faith.

It was said of Abraham, the Father of Israel, God’s chosen people, that “he went without knowing where he was going.” (Hebrews 11:8) This statement leaves me breathless, every time I read it. It’s worth repeating: “He went without knowing where he was going.” I think Abraham went–physically stood up and moved from his home–not because he knew or was confident in himself. And obviously he did not go because he clearly saw the way. Rather, he went because he trusted God, the faithful promise keeper.

I’m trying to keep this in mind as I wander through the world.

gold.

Dear God,

Although I’ve always possessed big dreams for my life, none of them entailed a bachelor’s degree–and so they didn’t included public school. My dreams were simple. They were plain. And they were within my capabilities. Maybe that’s why you had other things in mind–things that required your strength to overcome.

Maybe that’s why you wrecked my little plans for high school.

Because I had always imagined myself all comfortable and content. I thought I would stretch out beneath my home-hearth, reading books and learning new things–like young and lanky Lincoln in the wilderness of Illinois. I had unconsciously planned and plotted each point along the number line of my youth, and each point was wrapped around homeschooling.

After I began this school year, these dreams I had for me were dangling between my fingers like broken threads. And until this week, I had kept my knuckles curled around them so they couldn’t be taken from me–even though they no longer possessed any potential.

Because I realized something this week: to take a step forward, I’ve got to let you weave the threads. These broken pieces of dreams to which I cling are selfish… So I’ve got to let you work. I’ve got to give up each small part and put it in to your large hand. Then you can expertly weave something beautiful out of these broken threads–out of my broken, self-centered dreams.

Who was I to ever think I could create my life–and produce something good? Who was I? Master of my fate… captain of my soul?

No, God.

It was you.

All along, it was you and this is why I am here now–because you have plans for me. You have hopes and dreams for my life just as I did, but better. Your dreams are selfless and long-lasting. Yours are you; they are wrapped around yourself and you are the center. And when you are the center, all things are good.

So maybe not everything is easy. Maybe not everything is desirable or comfortable. But these days are good.They are good because you created them and they are yours. You spoke them into motion and since it was you, they are going to be full of wonderful things.

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In the beginning of time, you also spoke the world into motion. It was good. But then sin contaminated the circumference of it all because we stuck our fingers into the things you created. By playing god, we broke it all–ourselves and everything else inside this world. The threads were left in shreds.

But this is love–and this is life and the gospel and you–that while we were still sinners, and while we were broken, Christ died for us so that you could reshape us. You could weave our brokenness into something good again.

So this is me: one of the broken, clinging to my broken-thread dreams.

And. This. Is. You: mender and redeemer and healer of the broken things in this world.

Because of this week, I have come to understand you take the broken people, the broken dreams, the broken words, and you weave them into new masterpieces.

The shredded threads of my life are in your hands, and you are turning them into gold.

God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. For we are God’s masterpiece. He created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago. –Ephesians 2:8-10

carried.

This story, of my going to public school, is not about me at all. Rather, it’s about one little girl and a great big God, a God who surrounded the little girl with his people, sustained her with his vast love, and covered the her with his rich grace.

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Before the sun came up each weekday, the little girl rose from her pillow already afraid; she lived shaking in her shoes. The great big God saw the anxiety wrapped around that small heart. In the dark of the early morning, the great big God met the little girl. He made her stand on his two feet, and her short arms reached up to his open hands, and they would dance.

In a white-and-yellow kitchen with old wooden floors, the great big God smiled, swaying and spinning real slow while the little girl held tight to him. Though they both enjoyed the quiet space resting between them, the little girl grew tired–even as the great big God remained steady and able. So the great big God lifted the little girl off his two feet and slid his arms underneath her legs; he carried the little girl in his strong arms. And they would dance and dance and dance some more, as she rested in him.

So the great big God became the little girl’s strength. Through the infinite might of the great big God, they never had a reason to quit dancing, and the little girl never, ever gave up.

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This was God–this was me. And this was us—dancing, dancing, dancing through each day of life. His strength–his people, his love, and his grace–sustained me in these past three months. Without him, I never could have overcome–I never could have made it this far. Some days, I couldn’t see him–he, the strength of my heart. But as I look back, I know he was walking beside me every step of the way. He was close to me from the time I woke up each morning till the time I rested my head, and he sustained me. He was there and he was close and he was real. 

This is my story. And this is my great big God, who showed up for me, day after day after day.

Praise the Lord; praise God our savior! For each day he carries us in his arms.

Psalm 68:19