Doubt

This afternoon I am grateful for doubt.

Coming from me, this is pretty big. Doubt has been my arch nemesis as long as I can remember. He stalks my every move, whispers in the shadows, and snags my cape when I want to fly. 

Yet I have learned so much from Doubt. God has used my doubt to strengthen my faith. Even though times in Doubt's company are dark and difficult, they have pushed me ever in the direction of my Creator. Doubt taught me what Edna taught us: "no capes!" 

But really. Doubt has taught me what hinders my faith, and sends me back to the Word for understanding. Doubt whets my appetite to know who God is, to learn all I can about Him. Knowing the way God works, this will not be for my faith alone, but for the faith of others, too. Doubt makes me realize that I am not enough, that my intellect cannot suffice, that I have to trust Him. It deflates my easily inflated pride.

This gratefulness is spreading like wildfire throughout my life. I sat miserably this morning through my two classes because my throat hurts and I had chills. Because I am not feeling well, I decided to spend the afternoon on the floor with blankets, my Bible, my journals, my quote book, my sketchbook, and my stuffed animals. (no shame). My being sick made me stop and rest in Him, so that He could tell me who He is. I am so glad my cold made me flop clumsily into His holy presence. See, He turns our logic on its head. The things that drive us crazy are the things we should be grateful for, because He uses them to strengthen us, build our patience and endurance. Complaining is a sign of ingratitude.

It isn't easy. Complaining is something I have used to empathize with other people. Though I had good intentions, this is not healthy, and it has taken its slow toll on my joy. This will be another growing adventure full of missteps and stumbles. But my stumbles keep me humble. And already, contentment is filling my soul. I have so much to do, but I am content to be overwhelmed, because I know that He is doing something. Something in me is changing and I am excited to know what He will do!

"Redemption was born on a far darker day than this one, so bring the chaos. Bring the madness. Do whatever You've got to do to recreate my heart. After all, it's me that needs to change, not my circumstances." Mike Donehey

wisdom from my friend Hugo

{Everything has a purpose, clocks tell you the time, trains takes you to places. I'd imagine the whole world was one big machine. Machines never come with any extra parts, you know. They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured if the entire world was one big machine... I couldn't be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason, too.}

These are the wise words of a young boy named Hugo Cabret. (from the excellent film Hugo) He lives in a train station winding clocks and fixing a broken mechanical man that is the only connection to his deceased father. He is alone. But he finds a friend, Isabelle, and says these words when she worries she might never know her purpose. 

I sat watching the beautifully filmed scene as the two kindred spirits look out over Paris, imagining it to be a clock with gears and cogs, and tears filled my eyes. God's plan is that machine. There are just enough parts. None of us is an extra.

God always uses the unexpected to touch my heart and remind me who He is. He is sovereign. He also made me, not as an extra part, but as a purposed soul. Lately I have been confused about what I am confused about, and running to keep up with school and commitments has not helped. Purpose has seemed like a far off mountain shrouded in the mist of the present hectic-ness. The ability to fulfill my purpose has seemingly burned to ashes, charcoal streaks lingering on my hands. 

{Maybe that's why a broken machine always makes me a little sad, because it isn't able to do what it was meant to do... Maybe it's the same with people. If you lose your purpose... it's like you're broken.} Hugo.

We are all broken. Something just isn't right in us. Two gears don't fit quite right, and a spring is a bit out of place. All of our parts are a little rusty with sin. Yet the Creator of this giant mechanical world wants to come in and take us apart. He has to take everything out so He can fix it, find new parts, and give us strength to fulfill our purpose. That purpose is clear: love God, and because of His love, love people--bringing Him glory.

When we feel purposeless, we must remember the cross. It was perhaps the most deliberate and purposeful event of all time, the most scandalous act of love in history.

Remember the cross. Remember your purpose. 

o for grace to trust Him more

When I began my journey-ish resolution, (one word: "trust"--if you are confused, read this first)  I am not sure what I expected. I certainly expected to learn to trust Him more. "Oh for grace to," I sigh. I envisioned at times these revelatory moments where I would be struggling, then suddenly see the word "trust" on my computer, on my hand, on my mirror, on my notebook, and fall to my knees in prayer. Almost cinematically, God would move in mighty and thunderous ways.

However, God has His own way of teaching us, contrary to our expectations. Obviously, this journey to trust is not going my way. How often we get furious, frustrated, and flustered when life, events, friendships, and just things do not go our way. We get into this mindset that it is our way or nothing without even realizing it. We fall into the trap that He worked this way once, so He will do it the same way. We almost think we can control Him without even being aware of it. "Teach me this truth, Father. Use this music, it applies. Teach me this virtue, Father. Use a sermon in combination with my devotions. Show me now!" Give me, give me, give me.

It is wonderful to want to trust Him. It is wonderful to desire the gifts of the spirit and the beattitudes--basically all the characteristics of Christ. When we become three-year-olds crying "Gimmee, Gimmee, Gimmee," we lose sight of the beautiful mystery that is God's plan.   He is not Mr. Fix-it, as much as we desire Him to be. Learning to be content with our circumstances, the place God has placed us at this moment is so important. We can desire to learn and grow, but what about gratitude for what faith we have? The home we have? The friends we have? Contentment is something humans have always struggled with. Adam and Eve were not content; they decided to not trust God and rebel to get what they thought they wanted. Turns out they didn't want it so much after they got it.

This is sort of spiraling into all different directions, but I want this, if only this, to be clear. It is so much better to let God work His way in us rather than trying to push our plans onto Him. An old friend told me once that "just because our plans are pleasing to God, doesn't mean they are what He has for us." When we make inflexible plans we miss the fact that this life is not about us. It isn't. I am sorry if no one ever told you that, but you'll have to come to terms with the fact that life is about so much more than us. When we realize this, we let Him take control, and we find His beautiful plan. "O Control. It's time, time to let you go." -JJ Heller

Without realizing, I have come to the end of this post with a new revelation. I have to trust that God will teach me to trust better. I have to trust that His journey for me is better than the naive one I had envisioned. It is a bit mind-blowing to realize that he is teaching me trust in this. This struggle with my journey to trust Him, this lack of screen-worthy moments and abrupt change. Totally unexpected. But beautiful. And so much more effective than my idea. Well played, Jesus. I look forward to Your next move.

The quote that sprouted these growing thoughts was a question a pastor told a crowded room of college students to think about tonight. "Can you trust Me?"

I am working on my answer, or really, He is.

shame

I have found a way for so long to pretend to love and live. 

But I am not okay.

I am not okay.

Wow. That was hard to say.

I don’t say it very often.

Usually I just lie.

Usually I just say,

“yeah, I am good.”

I don’t look into their eyes.

I don’t look into people’s eyes anymore.

I am afraid.

Afraid that they will see right through me.

Afraid that my eyes will betray my secrets.

Betray my shame.

Betray insincerity that tries so hard to be sincere.

I fear that should they peer into my eyes,

They will find

Me.

And I don’t want to be found.

But I do.

I desperately want someone to find me.

But I am afraid there is no one who can understand.

No one who can ever look at me with love when they know my shame.

So I remain alone.

Locked up by fear and shame.

“They say time is like a healer, it’s more like a concealer for scars.”*

I never get rid of the shame. I never let it go.

I hide it in the box in the corner.

I can go for years forgetting it is there.

Selective thinking.

But I never really heal. 

I just mop up my bleeding before I go out into the world.

Freshen up the paint,

Desperately hoping no one will see the scar.

It burrows in my eyes.

Even those closest never see my deepest shame.

I just can’t tell them.

How can I?

They will never love me the same way.

I cannot bear that kind of alone.

You come in.

You put Your mighty hands gently on my shoulders.

This might hurt, You say.

You look into my eyes, unflinching.

You flood my soul.

I fear I am drowning.

But I find that I can breathe.

You take my shame, wrenching it from the corner.

I had nailed it down, welded it shut.

You rip it open with love in Your eyes.

In all of its blackness, it falls like ash,

The water around turning black.

We stand in it together.

I look away. I look back at You.

You are still looking at me.

Love is still in your eyes.

Your scars begin to bleed, two in Your hands, two in Your feet.

I look at Your face and blood drips from small scratches on Your forehead.

A waterfall of it rushes from Your side.

Red fills the room.

I close my eyes and slip to my knees.

My tears of shame mingle with the blood.

They are swept away.

Where did they go?

Far away.

How far?

Do you know how far east is from west?

No.

That far.

You smile. So do I. 

I even laugh a little. 

Sometimes shame finds its way back to me.

Shame has different faces, 

pseudonyms,

disguises.

I keep it because I forget.

Silly me.

I know what to expect.

Yet it still it surprises me.

You always say the same thing.

I love you.

That is what changes me.

 *When I'm Alone by Nevertheless