A Small Glimmer of Resurrection

It has been a long week for me. A week of restlessness, wrestling lies, and wanting to flee all relationship. I wasn’t planning on attending the Ash Wednesday service at church this week. It wasn’t that I was dreading going or wanting to avoid going, I really just had no desire to go, I felt nothing in it. But even then I found myself praying to God about why there was no desire, why I felt nothing. It was, I think, something good to be asking him.

In the end I decided to go to church on Wednesday. Mostly it was because I knew I would have to answer to God if I didn’t go. It felt like choosing not to go would have been in direct disobedience to him. I’m not sure I have ever felt the “fear of the Lord” at that level before.

For the first time I knew the truth… I knew that I was feeling like relationships were too hard. I wanted to flee. Internally I was on high alert. I was RESTLESS. I was aware of the lies as they formed in my head. And without the lies I had nothing, nothing to base my blame on others. I felt caught. The pain was overwhelming; I didn’t know what to say to my friends as I sat there with them. I mean, how do you say over soup, “I’ve failed so miserably to love you” or more honestly, “I don’t want to be here with you, it’s too hard.”

I have felt on the edge of brokenness for days now, but have been unable to make it happen on my own. I have wanted someone to come and selfishly take my pain away, This seems like a funny path to brokenness, but it has been that same selfish desire to be out of the pain that has led me to deeply wonder if God isn’t temporarily keeping friends away so I will turn to him first. So that when I am finally able to confess these things to others, my heart will be able to really hear the pain I have caused them. Only then I will find true brokenness and resurrection.

Ash Wednesday—a call to repent. It could be an interesting 40 days. I wonder if I am being called to a vast wilderness in order to see my sin more clearly. I wonder if I am being called to give up the idea that my friends often abandon me; to ultimately see how I abandon them. My eyes are being opened to see that all the lies I have believed about my friends are really true of my own heart.

Dana put out on his blog a quote about Confession’s Path to Humility which kindled a spark that was already growing in my heart. Exposure is a hard thing and this path is quite the humbling process.

God have mercy—great mercy.

But even now I can see a small glimmer of the resurrection that is coming, a seed of hope has been planted. How different will the Easter season be for me this year?

Building Deep Trust in a Twilight Zone

“There is a twilight zone in our hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves-our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and our drives-large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness. This is a very good thing. We will always remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves. We will never fully know the significance of our presence in the lives of our friends. That's a grace, a grace that calls us not only to humility, but to a deep trust in those who love us. It is the twilight zones of our hearts where true friendships are born.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen

Someone recently challenged me to write unedited for 5 minutes on the word trust. I wrote (in part): "Trust is the belief that someone has your best interest at heart. With that (at least humanly) often comes disappointment. I’m not sure why but Humility seems attached, perhaps because it takes a working relationship between two people to have trust and we fail each other so miserably. But over time we come to look past the failures to the heart of our closest friends, knowing the heart of a person toward you instills trust in them."

It is interesting to me that Nouwen mentions humility as well, but he uses it in connection with grace. I see now that it requires a tolerance of each other's humanness. But Nouwen doesn't simply leave it there, he says that humility and grace LEAD to a deep trust in those who love us. 

The building of trust in relationship has been and still is a struggle for me. I find it hard to assume friendship, to believe I am wanted, to move freely in relationships. However, I will say I do it better than I did 25 years ago... and even better than I did 5 years ago. I feel forever grateful to my friends who have been willing to enter into my "Twilight Zones" over the years, who have offered me grace when I know I didn't deserve it.

Humility continues to wash over me these days as God is allowing some previously hidden parts of me come into the light. It is hard to see the truth in my choices, it is humbling to say the least. Humbling because I know I will make the same relational choices again. I know that I will hear the same lies in my head, will twist the truth again, but my eyes are now able to see it clearly. Repentance is hard but refreshing.

My hope is that 5 years from now I can say that I did it better, that I trusted others better and moved more freely. My hope is that my eyes will stay open long enough to see others that I will stop fleeing long enough to love better.

The Greatness of Our God

Give me eyes to see more of who You are
May what I behold, still my anxious heart.
Take what I have known and break it all apart
For You my God, are greater still.

No sky contains, no doubt restrains,
All You are, the greatness of our God.
I spend my life to know, and I'm far from close
To all You are, the greatness of our God.

Give me grace to see beyond this moment here.
To believe that there is nothing left to fear.
That You alone are high above it all.
For You my God, are greater still.

Great words from Hillsong: God is about taking "what I have known" and breaking it "all apart". I stand on the edge of what feels like yet another layer being ripped away. I am mixed with awe that he wants to do yet more ripping and revealing. I feel an almost excited anticipation and also a bit of trembling, wanting it despite knowing there will be a cost. "Give me grace to see beyond this moment here."

Seeing Fear Accurately

"For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. So do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner. Rather, join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God. He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time,  but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. And of this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher. That is why I am suffering as I am. Yet this is no cause for shame, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day."  - II Timothy 1:6-12

Fear feels so powerful that it sometimes can even stop us from moving, but that fear is not from God. These verses are a good reminder of that God has a bigger picture in mind and that I can find security in the knowledge of his plan for me. Sounds much easier than it is....

The Right Questions?

Why do we tend to return to old wounds? I find myself again and again returning to the familiar pain associated with abandonment. I am not referring to the pain of my father's absence but rather the sense that all people will eventually abandon me.

The questions that rise up within me are ones of personal reflection or introspection: "Why do I go back there? How does going back into those painful wounds work for me?  Why would I want to feel abandoned? 

This past week I began re-reading a book by Donald Miller called To Own A Dragon.  I came across this section, a section that really stuck with me. So much so that I have been unable to move on into the rest of the book.

“Here is the real truth I am stammering toward. John MacMurray isn’t my father. My boss isn’t my father. The cop on the street isn’t my father. My father split and that stinks, and none of these guys are going to replace him. And what that means is that they are not responsible to tell me I am a man. Any love or affirmation they give is a gift, but holding them responsible for the insult my father cast down is inappropriate. The wound I have isn’t there because of them.” - Donald Miller, To Own A Dragon

It isn't that this section of the book is a exact reflection of my story. My father did leave and that did stink. Yes, it harmed me and it has made me look to others to father me. All that is true, but those things aren't what spoke out to me. What the passage did was make me wonder if the questions I have been asking recently [above] were the right questions for me to be asking.

I have placed my friendships in a place they don't belong. I have made friends responsible for carrying parts of my soul that they aren't supposed to be carrying. And when they have failed to father me, I have assumed that they have abandoned me. 

Don said, "The wound I have isn't there because of them." So, the questions I should be asking are: what happens between me and a friend when I start believing they have abandoned me? How does this path harm relationship? How does it cause separation? How does it take away my responsibility in our friendship? Who is really abandoning who? Is it really me abandoning them?

Which then ultimately leads me to begin asking how this translates to my relationship with God? Father, please help me find the right questions. Have mercy on me when I can't seem to turn my eyes away from my own pain and wounds!