Longing to Know Him in His Sufferings

Today was a trial in being distracted from the Lord. And it also came to my attention this evening that it's been a while since there's been opportunity presented to openly bear witness of Christ. Kind of.

"Randomly" in public, at least. Soon again, hopefully.

The Lord will arrange it. He always does, when it happens.
And He gives the words, too.

As a heads-up to any of you who might be interested: The U.S. store Dollar Tree usually has sharp-looking (black or white, with gilded edging) pocket-sized New Testament Bibles for a dollar, in the paper/book aisle, usually on a bottom shelf. They're the same size as a Gideon pocket Bible (which they somehow had two of last time, actually)...but less expensive from Dollar Tree than any other retailer perused online, for this size Bible.

Testifying about what Jesus has done and about what it's like to have a personal relationship with Him helps so much. Giving Him glory for the things He's done and praising Him...helps so much.

Still struggling just a bit, right now, to rest in His love. It was a very trying day.

His love never wavers, though my heart falters.
He never ceases to think of me, though my mind strays.

But He gently restores, again and again.

Being mocked again dredged up sin in me, making it apparent I'm still far too self-interested in terms of allowing pain to slip toward defiance and self-justification rather than just taking it to the Lord every time it becomes too much to bear.

Jesus didn't turn away from the pain of being mocked and rejected by those He loved, when He walked amongst us. And His heart didn't turn for a moment, even as we did everything within our power to crush His heart and break His spirit. He didn't fight back and He didn't hide from the pain. He loved all the more.

I want to be like that. Because love for Him compels me to walk in a way which is pleasing to Him. And I want to know Him more and be more like Him. I want to bear through pain without a shadow of turning.

And Sunday night has just more blatantly been His message to me, with finality clarifying that I can't do it in my own strength.

But He can. He can yield that change. And He's willing.

I have to be willing to endure whatever pain comes, with love never turning. And I am willing. I'm just not able. But...months ago, I still wasn't truly willing. I was still too afraid of the pain.

He showed me that, too--I didn't even realize that sort of compromise had crept in.

Love is a strange thing, really. It doesn't ask for anything, but gives everything. Yet not without discerning and desiring the will of God, which is the greatest good. So, not without being led of the Lord.

Love doesn't give everything only for the sake of sating pain, only for the sake of extinguishing obvious need, nor only for sake of providing temporary relief or security. No, it bears through in difficulty, without turning. But seeks the greatest good--which, again, is whatsoever God's will is for a particular situation.

Love isn't hasty. It doesn't rush to decisions for the sake of tempering difficulty. Though, seeing suffering, it does suffer alongside. Just as it rejoices when others rejoice.

So many things. But not hasty. Not self-seeking, but only glorifying God for any good which comes one's way. Love trusts. Love hopes.

Love brings truth, with great grace, desiring good.

I need to love God more. I need to love others more. I want to endure pain with rejoicing, rather than continuing to only grieve.

From what experience has been, God inspires a desire for change, then works despair of ability to change per one's own strength, then leads to pleas for His help...and finally, He fulfills that desire. Working to will and to act, as it goes.

First conscious experience of that process was from December of 2013--walking through my apartment, I was unexpectedly stricken with awareness of the coldness, lifelessness, and hardness of my heart, as though feeling nothing at all. I despaired of it, in as much as a lifeless, cold heart was capable, and a silent plea went up to God--abject desperation, just "Help!"

He has been answering that plea, increasingly, ever since.

So, the thing for the past year is of pain. I always ran from emotional pain, in the past. Found ways to numb it (including physical pain). Found means to distract. Tried not to feel anything, because pain was always in the mix. And at numerous times I'd reached points of becoming incapable of crying.

When I was a child (and from that point onward, in ways), there used to be severe consequences for open expression of emotion, was all. Really, there were very painful consequences for being whatsoever open about thoughts or feelings, in general. All this, from those I cared about most.

But the Lord won't allow me to carry that pain alone, anymore. And He doesn't want me to hide from it or try to deny it, either. He's been leading me to just be still, in the pain, while held in Jesus's presence--receiving His love and support.

So, pain's not something borne alone, anymore.

I'm still learning it's okay to cry. Okay to weep, even. But it's very scary to cry in front of people, still unconsciously expecting and shying away from disgust and revulsion and impatience and rejection and pain wrought in those moments.

A few Sundays ago, I wanted nothing more than to throw myself at the foot of what approximates an altar at the sanctuary front, to weep over my wretchedness and again cast myself into Christ's loving arms, His mercy. It was very difficult to refrain--there's been so much pain and trial borne in solitude, for months. So having a moment, at last, of deep comfort? I wanted to just weep and be held by His presence. But I didn't go. And I still wonder at grieving the Lord by refusing His comfort.

But I was concerned about offending people. And I was afraid of being physically removed from the sanctuary for disturbing worship--it wouldn't be the first time that's happened. First time being kicked out of a church service, I was 12--set out on the sidewalk, observed from arm's length until I stopped emoting and pleading for prayer. (Well, the only time really...so far. Poor phrasing.)

It was absolutely devastating, then, and would be no less, now.

Rather than turning to the Lord then, though, I turned away from Him.

So, these such moments are largely private, now.
Mockery and rejection and shame come, regardless--just related to other matters.

I'd been wondering on what Peter said about sharing in Jesus's afflictions, His sufferings, though.

What grace, to be given opportunity to understand His suffering on any real, intimate, personal level. To be able to empathize with the Lord, even if to an absolutely minor degree?--how absolutely, incomprehensibly merciful and caring that is.

That He would be so willing to share absolutely all of Himself with us, even, that He wouldn't even shy away from being open about the pain? To any extent that we would be given to intimately know the sufferings He endured and the love He bears for us?--incomprehensibly wonderful.

To know Jesus at all is everything.
Really, truly. Everything.
And, even more...to understand Him--at all, on any level--is simply astounding. Utterly mind-blowing.

Such grace!--to be permitted the absolute luxury of becoming acquainted with Him so intimately as to know His thoughts?--to any extent?, and given ability to intimately empathize with His experiences?--to any degree? Just...wow.

Inconceivable.

I just can't fathom that He actively desires we would have such insight and intimate knowledge of Him, as all that. All of Scripture attests to it, and so does experience--His will is for us to know Him and love Him, above all else.

And every time He pulls back another veil...I'm awestruck in wonder at His goodness and love, more clearly revealed.

Jesus, thank You.