My Conversation with Jesus in Church

This Sunday, as I sat in church, God came down and talked to me. It took the form of a journal entry. He spoke to me through my own handwriting. He perpetuated the theme of this season: Time to come out of hiding. Layer by layer, God has been stripping me of my coping mechanism, my hiding places, my misbehaviors, my sin... basically everything that comes between me and Him. I am so grateful for this difficult process. Thankfully He hasn't stripped them, but He has faithfully peeled back layer at a time.

This one, on Sunday, came after a few days of doing things intentionally my way. See there is a time when our coping mechanism and hiding places become disobedience, and disobedience lived in too long is rebellion. I think God has some things to say about rebellion in the Old Testament; in short, it is a big deal. The conversation this Sunday was really sweet. I saw my labelled hiding spot as a giant heavy and nasty cloak I have slung over my shoulders. It represents the lies I am believing, the negative emotions that follow the lies, and the unhealthy patterns that follow the emotions. All of these are weighty, oppressive, and quite frankly really nasty. I saw and felt this cloak. Suddenly Isaiah 61 came to mind. He has come to give me good news. To trade that nasty, heavy cloak for the garments of praise, the oil of gladness, the light of His presence. He wants to give me a new cloak, one that has been dipped in the blood of His Son.

Here is what it takes: I have to take off the old cloak, lay it at His feet, and accept this new garment. To know this truth is enlivening. Then comes the obedience of wearing His clothes. So He dispells the lies, he comforts the negative emotions, and asks me to obey in changing the unhealthy patterns. I know He will not leave me a lone, but I also know the expression of faith is obedience. If I'm gonna wear His clothes, I can't go rolling around in the mud again.

blogging

I have been thinking about this amazing online phenomenon. Through Facebook, twitter, and blogs we get to paint a picture of ourselves. The amazing thing about that is how much control we have. We can paint the picture however we like. We can say whatever we want about ourselves for the recipients to believe. Face to face interaction is a lot more risky because we can't hide so easily. The outside world will more readily see when our talk and our reality don't match up. Online, what I say is real cannot be so easily refuted, and so I can portray myself to be whoever I want.

So here I am blogging. I truly use this as a way to process my thoughts, emotions, and happenings of a day. But now the question runs through my mind, "Am I being genuine in how I portray myself?" I have been quite honest in many of my blogs... but there is admittedly some concealment. Concealment isn't necessarily bad, somethings are too personal or could be harmful to share on the world wide web. But am I being true to myself in the portrayal I'm giving off?

I don't know the answer, but am mulling over the question.  

Purpose of the Church

I was recently talking to my brother about a huge transition his church is going through. They recently acquired a large and needing-a-lot-of-work church building. In deciding what to do with this building they brought in a consultant. This man pointed out that the building was further down the list than they all thought; there are other things more important that need to be fixed.

See, the church full of well-meaning, good Christians had lost its focus on what the church is supposed to do. This consultant laid out that the church exists to see people 1. come to Christ and 2. grow in Christ. This particular church, in the last few years had seen few people begin a relationship with Jesus, and few people in any form of discipleship group.

This church took up the challenge. Immediately they started evangelism and discipleship classes. My brother has shared that it has been a hard transition, for it is really hard to hear that you've dropped the ball. Amid the difficulty of this transition, this church has decided to fight.

As I listened to this story, I was deeply convicted. Not only is it the church's job to evangelize and disciple, it is also the responsibility of individual Christians. It is my purpose too. How many people have I shared the Gospel with in the last year? How many have I prayed for that they would receive Jesus? How many young believers have I mentored and discipled?

These questions hurt. I want to justify myself saying I work for a Christian school. I teach Bible, that's discipleship right? But if I really look at, I find the conviction lingers. Evangelism and discipleship involve intentional life on life relationships. I can't say I have that with my students. So I stand at a small crossroads. What will I do with this conviction?

Pressure Cooker

Recently I have felt like I am inside a very hot pressure cooker. The pressure is streaming out in a loud, high pitched sound. Many things have been thrown in: convention speaking, sub plans, grading, changing schedules, burn out beginning, trainings, death of a loved one, lessons, deadlines.... pressures.

Today I awoke overwhelmed with the pressure feeling like I would explode out the miniature spout that is shouting for attention. I cried out to Him who knows and understands the pressure that I am under. He responded. See, a pressure cooker will explode if left unattended. But if the chef comes when the screech begins, and lifts the lid. The pressure that had been mounting is instantly relieved, and an amazing soup is produced. So today, my Great Chef, lifted the lid. I feel like he lifted it enough to add a few more ingredients and will soon put the lid back on. But I know He is producing in me perseverance, character and hope. I know the end result will be beautiful. And I know that when I feel like I am screeching and about to explode from the pressure, He will lift the lid and give me instant relief.

PS it is funny how the pressure and the relief both cause tears, just a different heart behind them.

My first attempt at poetry

The Walls Around My Heart

A little girl played and laughed

oblivious

unaware 

that inside her 

a heart beat with life and joy.

But then 

a sting

a stab

made her take notice.

A thin pink gossamer

she pinned to her heart.

She liked how it waved and flowed. 

But then

a strike 

a stroke

made her retreat and hide. 

A clear, tall sheet of glass would do the trick.

Her heart still seen.

But then

a shock 

a shot

made her enclose, self-protect.

Brick and mortar would do the trick.

The protection made her secure. 

But then

a slander 

a sorrow

a searing pain

a surrounding despair

a send off

a slight

a suffering so deep

An iron gate would seal it off

cut it at the knees. 

NEVER AGAIN

But then

darkness overwhelms

silence suffocates

pain endures.

I hid. 

I ran. 

The walls around my heart so firmly in place. 

The little girl was lost

unobserved

unbeloved.

The gossamer

The glass

The brick and mortar 

The iron gate 

But then He bids me come.

"Will you open your gate?"

His kindness bids me come.

I turn the key and once again

a slander 

a sorrow

a surrounding despair

I can't see.

I can't breathe.

Yet I turn the key.

His light bids me come. 

The gate swung open and once again I stand. 

But then He bids me come.

"Will you pull down your bricks? 

I want to see inside."

"Why?" I ask.

"There's nothing to behold."

I take a brick and once again

a send off

a slight

a suffering so deep

I can't do it.

I cling to the brick.

If it comes down, 

I'll fall down too.

But His brightness bids me come.

The wall falls down and so do I.

Now I'm on my knees. 

No further can I go

No one may enter in.

All I know is hiding and retreat.

But then He bids me come. 

"Inside I see a heart, 

a heart that once belonged. 

I want a closer look

But this glass is so strong.

Will you melt it down?"

He bids me as He comes. 

The fear I thought I knew, threatens to overtake.

What if I'm undone?

But His glory bids me come.

I set fire to the glass

As my tears fall, 

so does my wall. 

I feel vulnerable and exposed

unraveled and betrayed.

Once again

a shock 

a strike

a shot
a stroke

The wind blows as I weep.

The pink gossamer takes flight

a laugh

a giggle

as it dances in the light.

His love bids me come.

He doesn't even ask. 

I see it in His eyes. 

He wants me to unpin,

that which now brings delight.

I turned the key

I held the brick 

I set light to the glass

How much more could He want?

I knew before I asked, He wants my very heart. 

My hand trembles as I walk

to the thread I hold so dear.

Worry fills my eyes

But then He bids me come. 

So hidden had it been

But now as I unpinned

I saw beneath the sheet

a piece of all of me. 

I was shocked to see a name, 

a name not my own

written on my heart

It was not what I feared: 

Something ugly and unknown. 

Instead I saw

the sting, the stab, the strike, the stroke, the shock, the shot, 

the slander, sorrow, searing pain, 

the surrounding despair,

the send off, slight, and suffering so deep 

Had etched inside of me

The name that Bids me Come. 

And now my heart throbs and swells with joy

unhindered by my walls.

Unraveled

The other night I was crocheting. As I compared the panel I was currently working on to another I had already completed, I noticed a drastic change in size. I had done one way too tight and so there was half an inch difference in width and length. The individual panel looked great, but compared to the other it was greatly deficient. I pulled out hours of work and rolled it into a big ball, which is devastating.

My life feels like that right now. It feels like my life in the minuscule looks good, the stitches are lined up and put together. But... when compared to the grand scheme of life, of this Christian life, I am deficient. God has been unraveling me, to put me back together as a closer image of His Son. He's unraveling my short fuze at school. He's unraveling coping habits that have been engraved in my head since high school. He is unraveling the old self that still moves and lives inside me. He is currently putting all those into a big ball of yarn.

It is hard to be unraveled. There is a sense of loss. If I just look at the piece in front of me, I think that it looks good and there is no reason to take it apart. But in the big picture, God pulls apart so that He can restore, so that all the pieces will work together to make a beautiful whole. So this gives me hope. Lord God, please unravel all that does not conform with the image of your Son. I want to look like a beautiful replica of His character, and that can't happen if my good enough panels don't all match up. Thank you for making me more than good enough.

The Greatest Good

I have been thinking about my future plans a lot. I have been saying that whatever I do, I want to do the "greatest good." There is a very specific picture in my head of what this means. I read stories of missionaries who took in orphans and refugees, who clothed the naked and fed the hungry, all while preaching the Gospel. This is in my mind the greatest good. So I have wanted very desperately to make my future plans line up with this idea. How much good am I doing now? Could that good increase if I follow this course of action or that course of action?

God gently convicted me this morning as I read His word. "It is by grace you have been saved, through faith- and this is not from yourselves, it is a gift of God- not by works so that no one can boast. For we are God's workmanship created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." Ephesians 2:8-10. See in my desire to plan to do good, I was growing in a future pride. I want one day to hear good and faithful servant. This I think is good, but only when in its proper place. If I do good to get a crown at the end, I am missing the mark. God reminded me today that He prepares good works for me. He thus will reveal what these good works are in His timing. And what He considers the greatest good for me and through me, might look really different than my plans.

In the end: I am saved by grace. I do not earn salvation, nor do I earn grace. I am His workmanship. He has prepared good works for me.