"Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed." (James 5:13)
Once, about 5 years ago, I had the opportunity (something rare in the Lutheran church) for private confession and absolution. The pastor at the church I was visiting left time before his Saturday evening service for people to come into the sanctuary alone, confess any sins on their hearts, and receive absolution. It was one of the most moving things I have experienced. Confessing sins is powerful. Somehow it's entirely different from just telling someone about something bad you've done. Plenty of times I've had long conversations with friends and talked about my mistakes. Don't get me wrong, it feels great. But there's something even deeper about going to a fellow believer (particularly a pastor, but even a faithful friend is effective) and asking them to hear your confession. It's powerful to label that deed that's been heavy on your heart as sin and speak it to someone.
As someone who has studied psychology, I am a strong believer in the healing power of speaking out loud about the guilt that bothers you. God, though James, has said that the way for us to heal is to be open with each other and pray. If something is weighing on your heart, ask a friend that you trust to hear you out. [If we are personally acquainted, ask me to talk on Skype or meet you for coffee. I am always willing to listen.] And when you've aired it all out, pray. Lately my prayer life has been less than it should be. More than that, I have always struggled with praying out loud with people. It makes me uncomfortable. But I'd like that to change. As James points out, I need that to change. I don't have the space here to talk about the importance of prayer, but to put it briefly: It's important. And praying with and for the people in our lives is one of the most powerful ways we can experience the love of God.
As I'm urging myself, I also urge you: Pray with people more. See how it lightens your heart.
Monday, July 27, 2015
Sunday, July 26, 2015
30 Days of Bite-Sized Faith: Three
"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others." (Philippians 2:3-4)
Unless you live in a world free of blogs and other social media (and if you do, how are you reading this?), I'm sure you've seen those feel-good articles made attractive with vintage-y looking photos of cool looking people and a title that goes something like, "24 Reasons You're Awesome, and You Don't Need Anybody's Approval". I've read several. They all sound pretty similar. And almost all of them make me cringe, because A) I have a psychology degree and B) I'm a Christian.
I know, it's a tough world, and we need whatever encouragement we can get. When we're struggling with our own pain and fear and brokenness, it feels good to have the computer screen tell us that it's okay to do whatever we need to to be happy. But here's what gets me: We often decide that it's more important for us to be encouraged than for us to encourage others. Insensitivity has become a virtue. We strive to be blissfully ignorant of the thoughts and feelings of others, and value independence above all else. We are so wrapped up in pursuing our own goals and protecting our fragile self-esteem that we crash through life like the proverbial bull in an emotional china shop. Relieved to be rid of such weaknesses, we sacrifice courtesy, compassion, and humanity on the altar of happiness. It has become our idol.
But wait, doesn't God want us to be happy? Of course! It's His greatest wish for His beloved children. But He's wise enough to know that when we invest in the happiness of others, we gain a happiness that is so much deeper than we ever dreamed of. I think we'd all agree that it doesn't feel good to hurt someone else, but we've bought the lie that it's the price we must pay if we want to be the best we can be. Dear friends, this is not true. It's what Satan has told us to keep us busy sabotaging each other.
God's way can be frustrating, because not everyone is on board. But nevertheless, strive to find happiness through humility and sacrifice. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.
Unless you live in a world free of blogs and other social media (and if you do, how are you reading this?), I'm sure you've seen those feel-good articles made attractive with vintage-y looking photos of cool looking people and a title that goes something like, "24 Reasons You're Awesome, and You Don't Need Anybody's Approval". I've read several. They all sound pretty similar. And almost all of them make me cringe, because A) I have a psychology degree and B) I'm a Christian.
I know, it's a tough world, and we need whatever encouragement we can get. When we're struggling with our own pain and fear and brokenness, it feels good to have the computer screen tell us that it's okay to do whatever we need to to be happy. But here's what gets me: We often decide that it's more important for us to be encouraged than for us to encourage others. Insensitivity has become a virtue. We strive to be blissfully ignorant of the thoughts and feelings of others, and value independence above all else. We are so wrapped up in pursuing our own goals and protecting our fragile self-esteem that we crash through life like the proverbial bull in an emotional china shop. Relieved to be rid of such weaknesses, we sacrifice courtesy, compassion, and humanity on the altar of happiness. It has become our idol.
But wait, doesn't God want us to be happy? Of course! It's His greatest wish for His beloved children. But He's wise enough to know that when we invest in the happiness of others, we gain a happiness that is so much deeper than we ever dreamed of. I think we'd all agree that it doesn't feel good to hurt someone else, but we've bought the lie that it's the price we must pay if we want to be the best we can be. Dear friends, this is not true. It's what Satan has told us to keep us busy sabotaging each other.
God's way can be frustrating, because not everyone is on board. But nevertheless, strive to find happiness through humility and sacrifice. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.
Saturday, July 25, 2015
30 Days of Bite-Sized Faith: Two
Today I have two long-ish passages to share from Revelation:
"Then one of the elders asked me, "These in white robes - who are they, and where did they come from?" I answered, "Sir, you know." And he said , "These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore they are before the throne of God and serve Him day and night in His temple; and He who sits on the throne will spread His tent over them. Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat upon them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; He will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."(Revelation: 7:13-17)
Later in the book:
"Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city. One each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and His servants will serve Him. They will see His face, and His name will be on their foreheads. There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light And they will reign for ever and ever."(Revelation 22:1-5)
Those passages are long, and I have little to add to them, but I wanted to share them in light of what I wrote about yesterday. If you remember (or look back) I said that tears are a natural part of our lives here on earth, but that better things are coming. The better things are described in these passages, with such beauty that it makes me ache with longing. This is what we have to look forward to.
Have you ever cried tears of joy? It's a remarkable feeling when our hearts are so overcome with bliss that it spills out in tears (very much the opposite of what I described yesterday). When I think of that feeling, I think of the times I've gone to the wedding of someone very dear to me. I'm notorious for crying when I watch a bride who is one of my friends walking down the aisle. Her joy is so contagious, and it feels like my heart will burst with happiness for her. I think it's safe to say that in heaven we will feel that contagiously ecstatic all the time. Never tiring, never wanting, surrounded by the host of believers and basking in the light of the Lamb. If that can't inspire hope, I don't know what can.
"Amen. Come, Lord Jesus." (Revelation 22:20)
Friday, July 24, 2015
30 Days of Bite-Sized Faith: One
Prologue:
It's easy for me to stray, because it's not an easy life sometimes. School, work, relationships, health... You name it, I've struggled with it. And you probably have too. When things stop being easy, I start to despair. More times than I'd like to admit I've glared at heaven and asked why I can't just have what I want. I've certainly been angry more times than I've been thankful.
This last year has been a time in the spiritual wilderness, and I'd like to turn that around. That's where this challenge comes in. If you've been on Facebook for a while, you've probably seen someone do a "30 Day Challenge" of photos or songs or whatever. The premise is simple. Post one thing every day for thirty days (usually with a requirement like "a photo of something you're afraid of"). I don't have any fancy quotas to fill each day, but I do commit to posting in this blog every day (as I'm able). Often I avoid posting because I'm busy and it takes a long time to put together. So to counteract that I've decided to make these posts "bite-sized". This one is longer, with all this preamble, but typically I intend to make them fairly short. This also means that if you want to follow along, you'll be able to read them quickly. The format will be simple: A verse, and some thoughts. My prayer is that you and I can grow in faith together. Without further ado: Day One...
"Jesus wept." (John 11:35)
Yes, I know that this verse is the punchline for endless 7th grade Confirmation students. I'm young. I'm involved. I've been there.
Teacher: "What verse in the Bible is your favorite?"
Student: "Jesus wept."
Ha. Haha. Ha.
But I'm not trying to be funny. Those two words are so powerful for anyone who has suffered (which is everyone). Here's some context: Jesus had a friend, Lazarus, who had died and been buried. He went to be with Lazarus' sisters, and He was about to perform the miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead. He had already alluded to his disciples and the sisters (11:11 & 23) that He was perfectly able to raise Lazarus from the dead. He was planning on it. He's the Son of God and the only one in the world with the power to fix a tragedy like this.
But wait.
Before He uses His divine power and fixes what has been broken, He weeps. He is overcome with grief and compassion, and experiences the very human overflowing of emotion that can only be expressed through tears. This is one of the most striking testimonies to the full humanity and full divinity of Jesus.
Truly He shares our griefs, because He has been there.
Those days that we spend in tears aren't always days of doubt. Just because we cry doesn't mean we don't trust God. Jesus trusted His Father. But human beings are only so strong, and sometimes we simply need to weep, because our emotions are so strong they cannot (and should not) be ignored. The gift of expression is a blessing. It helps us cope with the things that are too much to bear. What we must remember is that Jesus, after weeping, performed an incredible miracle. While the Son is not still walking the earth and fixing all our troubles with the touch of His hand, and sin still steals our joy sometimes, the Father is still watching and directing our steps, and it will get better. As it says in one of my favorite Psalms, 126, "Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy."
Be patient. Better things are coming.
It's easy for me to stray, because it's not an easy life sometimes. School, work, relationships, health... You name it, I've struggled with it. And you probably have too. When things stop being easy, I start to despair. More times than I'd like to admit I've glared at heaven and asked why I can't just have what I want. I've certainly been angry more times than I've been thankful.
This last year has been a time in the spiritual wilderness, and I'd like to turn that around. That's where this challenge comes in. If you've been on Facebook for a while, you've probably seen someone do a "30 Day Challenge" of photos or songs or whatever. The premise is simple. Post one thing every day for thirty days (usually with a requirement like "a photo of something you're afraid of"). I don't have any fancy quotas to fill each day, but I do commit to posting in this blog every day (as I'm able). Often I avoid posting because I'm busy and it takes a long time to put together. So to counteract that I've decided to make these posts "bite-sized". This one is longer, with all this preamble, but typically I intend to make them fairly short. This also means that if you want to follow along, you'll be able to read them quickly. The format will be simple: A verse, and some thoughts. My prayer is that you and I can grow in faith together. Without further ado: Day One...
"Jesus wept." (John 11:35)
Yes, I know that this verse is the punchline for endless 7th grade Confirmation students. I'm young. I'm involved. I've been there.
Teacher: "What verse in the Bible is your favorite?"
Student: "Jesus wept."
Ha. Haha. Ha.
But I'm not trying to be funny. Those two words are so powerful for anyone who has suffered (which is everyone). Here's some context: Jesus had a friend, Lazarus, who had died and been buried. He went to be with Lazarus' sisters, and He was about to perform the miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead. He had already alluded to his disciples and the sisters (11:11 & 23) that He was perfectly able to raise Lazarus from the dead. He was planning on it. He's the Son of God and the only one in the world with the power to fix a tragedy like this.
But wait.
Before He uses His divine power and fixes what has been broken, He weeps. He is overcome with grief and compassion, and experiences the very human overflowing of emotion that can only be expressed through tears. This is one of the most striking testimonies to the full humanity and full divinity of Jesus.
Truly He shares our griefs, because He has been there.
Those days that we spend in tears aren't always days of doubt. Just because we cry doesn't mean we don't trust God. Jesus trusted His Father. But human beings are only so strong, and sometimes we simply need to weep, because our emotions are so strong they cannot (and should not) be ignored. The gift of expression is a blessing. It helps us cope with the things that are too much to bear. What we must remember is that Jesus, after weeping, performed an incredible miracle. While the Son is not still walking the earth and fixing all our troubles with the touch of His hand, and sin still steals our joy sometimes, the Father is still watching and directing our steps, and it will get better. As it says in one of my favorite Psalms, 126, "Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy."
Be patient. Better things are coming.
Monday, April 13, 2015
A New Light
So I'm moving away from Wisconsin in about 2.5 months, and there a lot of things I'll miss. Let's just lump "boyfriend/friends/people" into one and put that at the top. Other than that, in no particular order, are things like my job, the weather (honestly!), my favorite restaurants, the beautiful country, and tons of other small things I probably haven't thought of yet. I will also miss being close to Concordia, for various reasons. I love being there for my friends at concerts. I love going to campus and seeing familiar faces. I love going back to church there sometimes. I'm THAT postgrad, it happens. But most of all, I will miss the bluff.
Man, that space is powerful.
Maybe it sounds a little silly, and I'm not saying this because it's pretty and makes for nice pictures. I'm saying it's a powerful place because some of the biggest things in my life have happened there, and I have had the very best conversations with God on that beach. I remember one night of angry prayer, when the wind was howling to match my heart When I had finally spewed out all of my frustration, the wind became calm, and I felt a peace that cannot be described. I have gone out in the rain to feel washed and renewed. When I know I'm in distress, and I cannot seem to hear God's voice, I go to the rocks and listen to the water, feeling (as much as I know faith isn't always a feeling) the strong embrace of my Savior. Last night was a night like that. As I sat there almost in tears from the stress of all my new schoolwork and all the other things in my life I worry over, God put a verse into my mind that I have read dozens of times.
"Many are asking, 'Who can show us any good?' Let the light of Your face shine upon us, O Lord. You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound. I will lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety." (Psalm 4:6-8)
This verse is highlighted in bright green in my trusty Bible. Countless times I've read it before I sleep, to remind myself that I can sleep in peace. I've marveled at how poetic that second sentence is. It's beautiful, isn't it? Until last night though, I don't think I ever really realized what it meant. In that exact moment I saw the middle of that passage in a brand new light.
For months I thought if I could just get into gradate school, I would feel less restless. I needed a purpose, and to feel like I was going somewhere in life. Now I'm in the program I wanted. It's hard, but I believe it's worth it.
I still feel restless, and lack direction.
I thought maybe if I just didn't hate my job so much I'd feel a little less bitter. Now I have so much school work to do that I left the job that frustrated me. I'm only working at the job I love.
I still feel restless, and I still have days of bitter despair.
I've wondered if maybe I just need to see people more. Hang out with friends and talk to people who care. But seeing my friends still leaves me feeling tired, and yet wanting more.
I still feel restless, and impossibly lonely sometimes.
I believed that peace and fulfillment was just around the corner, when my next dream could come true. And yeah, maybe it would be easier to feel content if I was not in such constant transition. But as I remembered those verses last night I finally understood the truth, that looking to God yields joy that is greater than that of all those people I envy who seem to have such abundant blessings. There is no such thing as having it all. Unless, of course, God is your all.
Now, I can't tell you I'll be cheerful always. It will take constant mindfulness to remember to be grateful where I am with what I have. But the reminder was much needed, and for a while I felt the joy that is able to fill a heart and not leave one bit empty. He calls it peace.
Man, that space is powerful.
Maybe it sounds a little silly, and I'm not saying this because it's pretty and makes for nice pictures. I'm saying it's a powerful place because some of the biggest things in my life have happened there, and I have had the very best conversations with God on that beach. I remember one night of angry prayer, when the wind was howling to match my heart When I had finally spewed out all of my frustration, the wind became calm, and I felt a peace that cannot be described. I have gone out in the rain to feel washed and renewed. When I know I'm in distress, and I cannot seem to hear God's voice, I go to the rocks and listen to the water, feeling (as much as I know faith isn't always a feeling) the strong embrace of my Savior. Last night was a night like that. As I sat there almost in tears from the stress of all my new schoolwork and all the other things in my life I worry over, God put a verse into my mind that I have read dozens of times.
"Many are asking, 'Who can show us any good?' Let the light of Your face shine upon us, O Lord. You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound. I will lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety." (Psalm 4:6-8)
This verse is highlighted in bright green in my trusty Bible. Countless times I've read it before I sleep, to remind myself that I can sleep in peace. I've marveled at how poetic that second sentence is. It's beautiful, isn't it? Until last night though, I don't think I ever really realized what it meant. In that exact moment I saw the middle of that passage in a brand new light.
For months I thought if I could just get into gradate school, I would feel less restless. I needed a purpose, and to feel like I was going somewhere in life. Now I'm in the program I wanted. It's hard, but I believe it's worth it.
I still feel restless, and lack direction.
I thought maybe if I just didn't hate my job so much I'd feel a little less bitter. Now I have so much school work to do that I left the job that frustrated me. I'm only working at the job I love.
I still feel restless, and I still have days of bitter despair.
I've wondered if maybe I just need to see people more. Hang out with friends and talk to people who care. But seeing my friends still leaves me feeling tired, and yet wanting more.
I still feel restless, and impossibly lonely sometimes.
I believed that peace and fulfillment was just around the corner, when my next dream could come true. And yeah, maybe it would be easier to feel content if I was not in such constant transition. But as I remembered those verses last night I finally understood the truth, that looking to God yields joy that is greater than that of all those people I envy who seem to have such abundant blessings. There is no such thing as having it all. Unless, of course, God is your all.
Now, I can't tell you I'll be cheerful always. It will take constant mindfulness to remember to be grateful where I am with what I have. But the reminder was much needed, and for a while I felt the joy that is able to fill a heart and not leave one bit empty. He calls it peace.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Not All Verbs Are Created Equal
It's really no secret that my year hasn't exactly gone according to plan. You know that phrase, the one about us making plans and God having himself a good laugh? That has been ringing true for the last 14 months. Even when I can lay out every detail of what's "going to" happen, and I think I know for sure exactly what I want, there's about a 99.847% chance that I'm wrong about some or all of it. I'm notorious for making swift decisions and changing direction at dizzying speeds. It's a necessity considering the life I've had and the world I live in. In the last year I've made so many of those sharp turns that I hardly recognize myself. Not that it's a bad thing. The Lord works for my good, and I've grown so much. I'm headed for great things, and I've trusted my gut and my conscience and the voice of God, even when it seemed to me that I was being led in an absolutely mad direction.
But every once in a while I get stubborn about something. I push and pull and exhaust myself trying to make something happen because I'm so sure that it's exactly what I want and absolutely nothing else will do.
And I can confidently say that I will spend my entire life begging God's forgiveness for being so arrogant.
I'm a passionate person. I feel things deeply. So now and then I have trouble distinguishing between "this just feels right" and "I just feel strongly about this". Here, at the corner of "I want" and "I should", is where I run into trouble. Sometimes I spend months just sitting at that corner, because I want something so deeply. For pity's sake, I'm me, right? So obviously I know what's best for me, better than anyone else, even God!
This, my dear friends, is the biggest lie we tell ourselves.
"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord. 'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'" (Isaiah 55:8-9)
Waiting is hard. Especially for me. To wait is to not know. To wait is to put out your efforts and hope you get results. Yet, it's tempting to stretch out the waiting when an answer becomes clear, it's not what you thought, and the next step is to trust. Because while waiting is hard, trusting is even worse. Waiting is holding on. Trusting is letting go. They are both verbs. But one just seems to involve more control than the other. To trust is to give up control. To trust is to admit you were wrong. To trust is to jump into the great unknown believing that your plans, with all their glittery happiness, were somehow not the best for you. It still isn't easy for me. I don't think it will ever be easy for me. With the decisions I'm currently facing I have already had several crying tantrums. But when I've cried myself out I look back to all the times I've done exactly hat I didn't want to do and was more blessed than I ever could have imagined, and I know that God, as always, knows what he's doing.
"When I am afraid, I will trust in you." (Psalm 56:3)
But every once in a while I get stubborn about something. I push and pull and exhaust myself trying to make something happen because I'm so sure that it's exactly what I want and absolutely nothing else will do.
And I can confidently say that I will spend my entire life begging God's forgiveness for being so arrogant.
I'm a passionate person. I feel things deeply. So now and then I have trouble distinguishing between "this just feels right" and "I just feel strongly about this". Here, at the corner of "I want" and "I should", is where I run into trouble. Sometimes I spend months just sitting at that corner, because I want something so deeply. For pity's sake, I'm me, right? So obviously I know what's best for me, better than anyone else, even God!
This, my dear friends, is the biggest lie we tell ourselves.
"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord. 'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'" (Isaiah 55:8-9)
Waiting is hard. Especially for me. To wait is to not know. To wait is to put out your efforts and hope you get results. Yet, it's tempting to stretch out the waiting when an answer becomes clear, it's not what you thought, and the next step is to trust. Because while waiting is hard, trusting is even worse. Waiting is holding on. Trusting is letting go. They are both verbs. But one just seems to involve more control than the other. To trust is to give up control. To trust is to admit you were wrong. To trust is to jump into the great unknown believing that your plans, with all their glittery happiness, were somehow not the best for you. It still isn't easy for me. I don't think it will ever be easy for me. With the decisions I'm currently facing I have already had several crying tantrums. But when I've cried myself out I look back to all the times I've done exactly hat I didn't want to do and was more blessed than I ever could have imagined, and I know that God, as always, knows what he's doing.
"When I am afraid, I will trust in you." (Psalm 56:3)
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Turning Around
It's been a rough couple of months.
Now that I think about it, my last post talked about how distant I had grown from my Savior. I wish I could tell you that this one isn't similar, but unfortunately I can't. This time it was worse. Until this last Sunday I was in an even worse spot than I was in the spring. I could not bring myself to pray. I never thought about God except to ask why he had abandoned me (in my flawed opinion). When I did think about my faith all it did was bring tears to my eyes, so naturally I ran away from that idea. The issue with that plan is that everything else brought tears to my eyes anyway. So that kinda backfired. The simplest explanation for my lack of faith is this: depression.
It comes back every few years. Sometimes every few months. Not that I'm raising the white flag or anything, but I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be fully free. The intensity varies. This fall was probably the worst outbreak I have ever had. And the worst thing about depression is that it has a knack for robbing me of all the things that might heal me. It's hard to reach out to the people that love me. Some of the people that love me hardly even want to reach out to me because I'm not myself. Most importantly, since faith is an abstract concept and abstract things are typically just out of my reach when I'm in the depths of the disease, I can hardly access faith at all.
Several things over the past few weeks have helped me turn around, and I've begun the struggle back up the hill. Sometimes I slide back, but I have slowly begun to regain my footing with more assurance. And finally, last Sunday, I found my faith again.
Or rather, my faith found me.
The church I have gone to during this time of wandering since graduation has been a constant blessing. Somehow here, more than anywhere else I've worshiped in my lifetime, I hear God's voice speaking directly to me, often with exactly the thing I need to hear most. This past Sunday was no exception. It was, in fact, the most potent example. It's not too often that a pastor preaches on the Old Testament reading for the day, but that day it was the passage about God's role as a potter, with me as the clay (Isaiah 64:8-9). To summarize it neatly, I was reminded not only that I am a work in constant progress, but also that making pottery is not easy. Sometimes to make a strong pot a potter uses less water (typically used to make the clay more malleable) and has to use a heavier hand. Even though I already knew it, I needed that reminder that God has never promised to be gentle, at least not in the way I would perceive it. I, much like clay, am resistant. I don't often cooperate. But what truly hit me, and made me stop in my tracks, is that no matter how much I resist or how awful or useless or worthless I think I am, God has promised to work on me until I am complete. He has saved me for a reason, and he loves me enough to keep at it.
Yesterday I was reading a Nicholas Sparks book (it turned out pretty lame, which I expected, but it was entertaining at least). Unless you live under a rock, you probably know that Mr. Sparks frequently writes incredibly sappy love stories. The kind that they make into tragic movies that leave your girlfriend/wife/mom/sister crying, probably because somebody dies or (crying doesn't always make sense) because everything works out really well. However engaging and nice his books may be, I've never looked to Nicholas Sparks for any great wisdom. Imagine my surprise then, when I found a quote yesterday that was actually incredibly deep, and really made me think. Are you ready? Here it is:
"Love, after all, always said more about those who felt it than it did about the ones they loved."
Although it seems odd to apply a Sparks quote to my awesome God, in this case it seemed fitting. The fact that God loves me says little about me. I am still broken and my sinful nature still fights against God's love every day. God's love says everything about how wonderful He is. In the Concordance in the back of my Bible, there are almost three pages of tiny print pointing to passages that use some form of "love". In the past, when I would try to find a verse or passage, I sometimes found that fact annoying. I was on a mission, and I didn't want to skim through all those entries to find what I needed. Today, once again, I found myself searching through that section. To be honest, I never found the exact verse I was looking for. Instead I kept getting "distracted" looking at the multitude of passages that have aided and consoled me across the years. Verses and chapters that speak of the depth and nature God's love, and the example it should be for our love to each other. It finally hit me how completely awe-inspiring it is that "love" is one of the biggest sections of the Concordance. I have heard the phrase "God is love" so many times, and never truly grasped what that meant. Love comes from and leads back to God. The truest, deepest, and most unconditional love we will ever have is that which is given to us freely and abundantly by God. A love so strong that he stands by us in all our trials, no matter how much we tell him we don't need him. A love that bears the insult of every sin and every slight, and still accepts us with joy when we realize how wrong we were. A love so deep that he gave up His Son, extending His own self to us and holding nothing back.
"Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another." (1 John 4:7-11)
This is my fairytale love. The love the stretches across all boundaries and all time and comes to me in big miracles and small whispers. My prayer is for the strength to accept it and give it to others.
Now that I think about it, my last post talked about how distant I had grown from my Savior. I wish I could tell you that this one isn't similar, but unfortunately I can't. This time it was worse. Until this last Sunday I was in an even worse spot than I was in the spring. I could not bring myself to pray. I never thought about God except to ask why he had abandoned me (in my flawed opinion). When I did think about my faith all it did was bring tears to my eyes, so naturally I ran away from that idea. The issue with that plan is that everything else brought tears to my eyes anyway. So that kinda backfired. The simplest explanation for my lack of faith is this: depression.
It comes back every few years. Sometimes every few months. Not that I'm raising the white flag or anything, but I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be fully free. The intensity varies. This fall was probably the worst outbreak I have ever had. And the worst thing about depression is that it has a knack for robbing me of all the things that might heal me. It's hard to reach out to the people that love me. Some of the people that love me hardly even want to reach out to me because I'm not myself. Most importantly, since faith is an abstract concept and abstract things are typically just out of my reach when I'm in the depths of the disease, I can hardly access faith at all.
Several things over the past few weeks have helped me turn around, and I've begun the struggle back up the hill. Sometimes I slide back, but I have slowly begun to regain my footing with more assurance. And finally, last Sunday, I found my faith again.
Or rather, my faith found me.
The church I have gone to during this time of wandering since graduation has been a constant blessing. Somehow here, more than anywhere else I've worshiped in my lifetime, I hear God's voice speaking directly to me, often with exactly the thing I need to hear most. This past Sunday was no exception. It was, in fact, the most potent example. It's not too often that a pastor preaches on the Old Testament reading for the day, but that day it was the passage about God's role as a potter, with me as the clay (Isaiah 64:8-9). To summarize it neatly, I was reminded not only that I am a work in constant progress, but also that making pottery is not easy. Sometimes to make a strong pot a potter uses less water (typically used to make the clay more malleable) and has to use a heavier hand. Even though I already knew it, I needed that reminder that God has never promised to be gentle, at least not in the way I would perceive it. I, much like clay, am resistant. I don't often cooperate. But what truly hit me, and made me stop in my tracks, is that no matter how much I resist or how awful or useless or worthless I think I am, God has promised to work on me until I am complete. He has saved me for a reason, and he loves me enough to keep at it.
Yesterday I was reading a Nicholas Sparks book (it turned out pretty lame, which I expected, but it was entertaining at least). Unless you live under a rock, you probably know that Mr. Sparks frequently writes incredibly sappy love stories. The kind that they make into tragic movies that leave your girlfriend/wife/mom/sister crying, probably because somebody dies or (crying doesn't always make sense) because everything works out really well. However engaging and nice his books may be, I've never looked to Nicholas Sparks for any great wisdom. Imagine my surprise then, when I found a quote yesterday that was actually incredibly deep, and really made me think. Are you ready? Here it is:
"Love, after all, always said more about those who felt it than it did about the ones they loved."
Although it seems odd to apply a Sparks quote to my awesome God, in this case it seemed fitting. The fact that God loves me says little about me. I am still broken and my sinful nature still fights against God's love every day. God's love says everything about how wonderful He is. In the Concordance in the back of my Bible, there are almost three pages of tiny print pointing to passages that use some form of "love". In the past, when I would try to find a verse or passage, I sometimes found that fact annoying. I was on a mission, and I didn't want to skim through all those entries to find what I needed. Today, once again, I found myself searching through that section. To be honest, I never found the exact verse I was looking for. Instead I kept getting "distracted" looking at the multitude of passages that have aided and consoled me across the years. Verses and chapters that speak of the depth and nature God's love, and the example it should be for our love to each other. It finally hit me how completely awe-inspiring it is that "love" is one of the biggest sections of the Concordance. I have heard the phrase "God is love" so many times, and never truly grasped what that meant. Love comes from and leads back to God. The truest, deepest, and most unconditional love we will ever have is that which is given to us freely and abundantly by God. A love so strong that he stands by us in all our trials, no matter how much we tell him we don't need him. A love that bears the insult of every sin and every slight, and still accepts us with joy when we realize how wrong we were. A love so deep that he gave up His Son, extending His own self to us and holding nothing back.
"Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another." (1 John 4:7-11)
This is my fairytale love. The love the stretches across all boundaries and all time and comes to me in big miracles and small whispers. My prayer is for the strength to accept it and give it to others.
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