| I have a confession.
Every time I sit down to faithfully key my thoughts into a comprehendible narrative, I do so with my own undeniable agenda.
Then something inexplicable seems to happen every time. As I struggle to gain a foothold in my own complex mindweb, the thoughts that once inspired me to sit down in the first place have seemingly hidden themselves deep within the tangled mess of abandoned thoughts that rest peacefully in the rafters of my mind.
Shame on me. To think that I inspire myself. Preposterous.
I'm beginning to realize that my pesky agenda is nothing more than an obstruction to the larger picture. It's nothing more than the seemingly inevitable presence of that tall, big-headed person that always conveniently finds his/her seat directly in front of you at the movies. Unnecessary? Yes. Unavoidable? It's likely.
Every time I sit down with an agenda, it's promptly disregarded. Because the reality is that I lack the ability to inspire myself. I'm simply not that fascinating. But rather, it's the Spirit at work within me, attempting to reveal ultimate wisdom and truth upon opening myself up to actually receiving it.
What's truly f a s c i n a t i n g is the opportunity to be an instrument in His work.
F a s c i n a t i n g because I'm far from capable to have any impact on my own.
F a s c i n a t i n g because I'm far too broken to be worthy of such an honor.
F a s c i n a t i n g because it reminds me of how eager God is to draw me into His truth.
F a s c i n a t i n g. Simply.
So as I've thrown my agenda to the wayside, I soon realize that I am without words. Without direction. Without inspirat...wait.
Slowly, my gaze shifts to the old leatherbound journal that rests weathered yet prominent on the wooden bedside table sitting beside me. A surprising sense of fear begins to sweep across my thoughts as I anticipate revisiting myself from days past.
The striking reality of such a conquest is the realization of growth, or an unfortunate lack thereof. As I cautiously travel the abandoned path that lies behind me, I fear that my journey will be horizontal. Lacking depth. Lacking growth.
As if to reassure myself, I deeply inhale and exhale a few times before carefully unwinding the softly-worn leather strap that safely binds my captured thoughts.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
As I sit here, I can't help but wonder where I'm truly at in the grand scheme of life. Sometimes my greatest fear is that my mind and heart do not match in purpose. Is that natural? If so, why does it feel like I'm certainly the only one that carries a restlessness around in my mind and heart? Why do I sometimes need constant reassurance of my faith in God? Why do I let my mind control matters of the heart and soul? I could probably sit here for hours contemplating the endless array of whys that are constantly spinning through my mind. I've heard so many amazing things so far this week and yet my mind still wanders. I crave that obedience and yet constantly find myself straying from the God-centered desires of my heart. To be honest, I'm hiding. Hiding from God perhaps, but certainly hiding from myself. I can come so far (or so I think) and experience growth in an incredible way. I can and I have. Yet what is it that I still crave? Why, oh why can I be surrounded by a group of people that genuinely care for me and yet still feel that old familiar loneliness wash over in an instant? I know that it goes much deeper that just having relationships. Because, even in the midst of awesome relationships, I'm still missing something. Only Jesus can fulfill that missing piece, but at times, in fact, most of the time, that relationship feels so out of reach. I hear people talk about it and I witness people experiencing the joy that results from it, but still I let my ignorance (perhaps stubbornness) prevail. Why? I've experienced an utmost joy and love and grace, so why don't I seek it always? Not just wait for it, but TRULY seek it. Crave it. Breathe it. Live it. Fear? Is fear still crippling me? Life isn't supposed to be this hard, so why do I make it this way? Why do I cloud my God vision? It's so hard to see through the darkness that I create and submit to. Trust. In the past, whenever I have stepped out in faith and trusted God to see me through, He has. So why am I still hesitant to step out in faith and trust. God is faithful. But am I? With so many thoughts and emotions running rampant through my mind, I know that I will never be able to spill them all (coherently) onto paper in one sitting. So God, this is my prayer:
Break down the walls of my heart. Show me Your face in every moment of each day. Allow me to feel Your presence in every moment. Because You are all I'll ever need. I no longer wish to conform to the pattern of this world. Instead, renew and transform my mind and soul. God, you are faithful and I just pray that no matter how thick the darkness may seem to be, You are always there. God help me to be still and simply know that You are God. I love you.
The very next day I ventured out into the inner-city of Indianapolis with a group of fine folks from NIU. We wandered dangerously through the streets of one neighborhood with a very important mission. With a "box of love" in hand, we were seeking to share the love of Christ with those who had yet to hear or experience it. Being the finely tuned navigators that we were, our group quickly misguided itself into cluelessness. We aimlessly roamed up and down the neglected sidewalks in an effort to locate our designated street. As God would have it, we "stumbled" upon a group of five young boys playing football. Immediately I noticed their lack of appropriate winter attire and wondered if it was the result of poverty-stricken need or rebellious boyhood. Our group leader suggested that we attempt to initiate spiritual conversations with the young boys, as our navigational efforts had yet to point us in the right direction. I skeptically agreed, convinced that the boys would likely be unresponsive to our attempts.
A mere 15 minutes later I stood shivering on that poorly kept sidewalk as tears streamed steadily past my reddened cheeks. James, an adorable eleven year-old boy and the youngest of the group, was firmly planted on the snow-covered ground a few feet from my side. He too, stood shivering from the icy wind that cut briskly through the air, but that didn't stop him. There in the midst of an ordinary Friday afternoon, James pressed his beautiful brown eyes shut and gently clasped his hands together before him as he cried out to God in a heart-filled prayer of salvation.
It's f a s c i n a t i n g to be an instrument in His work.
I wish that I could proudly sit here and proclaim my unfailing faith since that life-changing moment, but I cannot. Unfortunately my brokenness resumes its comfortable stance at the forefront of my life more often than I am likely to acknowledge. Funny thing, though. God seems to be just as eager and willing to meet me in the midst of seemingly insurmountable valleys as He is atop a mountain of unequivocal praise.
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