The Lord has been so kind, today. Like with this song, just now. And with a couple minutes' worth of sunlight, breaking through. And the sun, even. And the blue sky. And just reminding me of who He is. In the middle of coming to terms with my own idiocy. Again. Just accepting my abject insufficiencies and incapabilities. And isolation. And seclusion.
But of His love, reminded. And of His faithfulness, reminded. And of His intentions toward me. And of the fact that He's taken me up, as His own. And there's still been the reminder, again and again...He's the one in control.
I have to just wait. Surrendered. I have no defenses, apart from Him. And however He gives grace and aid to act, in a moment.
And there's been the gentle reminder, too, that there are so many in the world who are utterly alone. Not even turned toward Him, even. So many. Without Jesus, I couldn't function. I didn't want to. And, quite frankly I don't want to now, either...but He doesn't leave me to my own inclinations. He prompts and prods and relentlessly comforts and assertively loves until there's nothing but to move, if an inch at a time. I am so glad He isn't ashamed of my need of Him, that He doesn't turn away or leave me at those times of abject unwillingness to even open my eyes to face another day.
He gently incites to remembrance of varied small blessings, of warmth and light and melody and even the joy of fleeting fellowship.
One of my biggest pitfalls is the desire to belong. To have a home. To have a place where I fit. But especially to have someone to walk beside. Consistently. In fellowship with God. And not unto distraction from Him.
For a brief moment, I really hoped a girl I'd met in the backwoods of Tennessee last winter might be someone He'd ordain to have me walk with in pursuit of Him. Someone to prod and to prompt to deeper walk with the Lord, seeking Him as fellow disciples. The "iron sharpening iron." And as someone to walk beside. But her walk is so much different. She invited me to come visit. But He cut that off.
Everyone else seems very nicely grouped, already. Insularly so, past a point. Which...is entirely understandable and rational. The way things ought to be. Still just means there's no place for me, is all. None but with the Lord, Himself. Or there are those who are similarly alone, and yet...it's not just a matter of closing my eyes and pointing, unfortunately.
So, I'm glad He doesn't leave me alone, days like today. But continually reminds me, with small and large interventions. And refusing to leave me alone, in those moments when I want to just stop and give up, entirely. Giving in. He comforts me.
Thing is, though, if there were others continually...I get so distracted, fellowship with Him isn't as obvious, usually. Not usually as pronounced. Usually just slightly marginalized. Which...is sad, to say the least. He doesn't begrudge me the indulgence in enjoying fellowship, though. He doesn't drift away. I do.
And what's so odd of it all is that...when I first started walking with Him--whatever it required, to remain in fellowship with Him...was worth it. No movies, no tv, restricted fellowship, further limitations of speech with mindfulness to abstain from grieving Him so very pronounced. It was a very sad day when He gently made me aware of the difference between my pursuit of Him and the...whatever it is...of my family--making it starkly, grievously apparent that past a point, to continue pursuing Him would mean there would no longer be room for compromising my walk with Him for the sake of maintaining appearances. To put it one way, at least.
False peace. A compromise against reverence for the Lord, at core. And false peace has incrementally been addressed and put to the lie it is, again and again. Not without grief.
It's a thing. And I don't even know the extent of pretense and compromise that's still an unrecognized part of my daily perspective, even now. But the closer to Him, the more apparent these things become. And He's infinite, so there's no reason to stop pursuing Him.
Doggedly. Though there are definitely plateaus. And distractions. And falterings. And the periodic falling away into error. The whole zeal without knowledge, thing? Yeah, well...zealous to seek in all corners, especially, initially. Still reeling over some of what was imbibed. But He's been faithful to deliver me.
I used to climb and hide on the top of the china cabinet at home, just to get to the highest place. And make it back down before being found out. So it's not as though that same curiosity and drive isn't still alive in a very real way. Just in Christ's direction.
So, really...it doesn't matter what's thought of, done to, or intended toward me. All that matters is pursuing Him, at any cost. At all costs. Does not mean there's no pain. Doesn't mean grief isn't pretty (increasingly?) regular. But I trust Him. And I submit to Him. And will have Him, because He is willing.
It's actually really merciful that He would allow me to see, in particular, so much of my own sinfulness in greater detail again. All the more to be humbled. Pick a sin, I've at least been tempted (probably). Some temptations haunt me, literally. Demonic hecklers. But resting in Christ, they can't touch me. And their voices grow ever fainter and fainter.
The pain, though. It wields its own dire bludgeon. And would utterly destroy my will to live, except my every desire for life now rests in knowing Christ. Which isn't to say I don't despair of this world and want to just go home, sometimes. But His will. And love of others.
He didn't mock me. Or chide me. But even seeing the sin I more clearly see now, it was nothing to seeing how utterly filthy and wretched, then. Suffused. Every particle tainted by the presence and working of sin. I had never known despair, compared. I couldn't even think.
I don't even know what I want, realistically, until He makes it plain. Painfully done, which is an unfortunate consequence of putting lie under pressure of scrutiny until surfacing truth. So the natural, human desires for marriage and children--for family and community? They're not bad things. Just painful to acknowledge, having long denied truth. And no less to be surrendered wholly to God, all the while. Without expectation.
I don't even know what I want, realistically, until He makes it plain. Painfully done, which is an unfortunate consequence of putting lie under pressure of scrutiny until surfacing truth. So the natural, human desires for marriage and children--for family and community? They're not bad things. Just painful to acknowledge, having long denied truth. And no less to be surrendered wholly to God, all the while. Without expectation.
Because He's my keeper. And I stray continually, except that He keeps a close watch on me. He's my shepherd. And I wander into strange and dark places regularly, except He draws me out and binds me near again and again. He's done it all my life, in various ways. Even though I went into some really dark terrain for quite a while. Resenting and despising Him. Even to spite myself. And in defiance of everyone who claimed to love me, given lack of truthful involvement, attempted truthful confrontation.
It's easy to say you love someone, is all. But when there's unwillingness to (albeit prayerfully--seems necessity) confront observed harmful tendencies and behaviors, but only indulgence and avoidance or mockery and distance...or the like...that's not love. It's self-indulgent affectionate regard, at best. And outright self-indulgence, otherwise. Or just self-consumption so deep as to prevent love being expressed. Or something along the like of these lines.
If Christ is our living model for human love, though? He used a lot of parables. He spoke in ways which were mysterious, to many. But He began His ministry with forthright and blatant call to repentance unto God. And spoke very frankly with those who were particularly vocal toward Him, testing and trying and denouncing Him. Claiming to speak for God, yet they were actively attacking Him in the flesh. Deriding, mocking, chastising, and scoffing at Him. And He was very plain, in those instances. But to all, He called for repentance. And backed it up with a willingness to endure in the fight against sin, unto death on the cross. As to be obedient, perfected in obedience through suffering. Without wavering in His commitment to do the will of the Father, rather than His own will.
He alone had no need to repent, because He'd never turned away from obedience. Yet along that particular, He alone practiced wholly what He preached. The rest of us fail. Miserably, at times (speaking from personal experience). But He is merciful to those who confess their sins. And merciful to continually reveal to further depths of confession.
Thing is...love isn't timid. Surrendered to God, sometimes it draws some very plain lines. And other times just seems best to encourage, direct, and bolster. And what all did Paul write about it, as inspired?:
It's easy to say you love someone, is all. But when there's unwillingness to (albeit prayerfully--seems necessity) confront observed harmful tendencies and behaviors, but only indulgence and avoidance or mockery and distance...or the like...that's not love. It's self-indulgent affectionate regard, at best. And outright self-indulgence, otherwise. Or just self-consumption so deep as to prevent love being expressed. Or something along the like of these lines.
If Christ is our living model for human love, though? He used a lot of parables. He spoke in ways which were mysterious, to many. But He began His ministry with forthright and blatant call to repentance unto God. And spoke very frankly with those who were particularly vocal toward Him, testing and trying and denouncing Him. Claiming to speak for God, yet they were actively attacking Him in the flesh. Deriding, mocking, chastising, and scoffing at Him. And He was very plain, in those instances. But to all, He called for repentance. And backed it up with a willingness to endure in the fight against sin, unto death on the cross. As to be obedient, perfected in obedience through suffering. Without wavering in His commitment to do the will of the Father, rather than His own will.
He alone had no need to repent, because He'd never turned away from obedience. Yet along that particular, He alone practiced wholly what He preached. The rest of us fail. Miserably, at times (speaking from personal experience). But He is merciful to those who confess their sins. And merciful to continually reveal to further depths of confession.
Thing is...love isn't timid. Surrendered to God, sometimes it draws some very plain lines. And other times just seems best to encourage, direct, and bolster. And what all did Paul write about it, as inspired?:
4 Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up;
5 does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil;
6 does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth;
7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
8 Love never fails.
Which is a lot to aspire to, by grace. So, love is not showy or proud, not rude or self-serving, isn't suspicious, is long-suffering and kind, doesn't envy, grieves of sin but rejoices in truth, bears, believes, and hopes all things good, enduring whatever is encountered. And love never fails.
It would probably help me a lot to just meditate on that for a brief eternity. And of Philippians 4:8, as well. Love doesn't dwell on darkness.
Which is a lot to aspire to, by grace. So, love is not showy or proud, not rude or self-serving, isn't suspicious, is long-suffering and kind, doesn't envy, grieves of sin but rejoices in truth, bears, believes, and hopes all things good, enduring whatever is encountered. And love never fails.
It would probably help me a lot to just meditate on that for a brief eternity. And of Philippians 4:8, as well. Love doesn't dwell on darkness.
8 Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy--meditate on these things.
It's too easy to become mired in the chaos of what goes on in this world. Especially those things which are particularly grievous, unjust, and painful. I constantly fail on that point, except that the Lord doesn't leave me there. Gladly.
Not to say there's no grieving. Even alongside. Jesus grieved, too. But He didn't set up camp there, to live.
Unlike me.
All the more to be grateful He doesn't leave me to my own devices. I have no idea what tomorrow will be like, even. But He'll be there. And He'll help. Especially when there's nothing I can do to even dredge up the willingness to sit up, let alone prepare for the day. He doesn't leave me alone. He coaches me, relentlessly. And reminds me. And prods, one step, one moment, one thought to the next. And gives small gifts, all day. Even if I start out resistant to even being loved.
I can't say I would trust anyone else to deal so gently and insistently with me. I don't even deal that gently with myself. So, on that front, too, there's been some serious resistance to the idea of walking beside others. Because sin-sickened humans tend to hurt one another. A lot. We just do. And I don't quite understand how that's supposed to work to good. How He would do so. Even seeing so much He's done through my recent fellowship with others, these past multiple months.
Not as though I'm anywhere near...not even remotely near...being able to interact without having a breakdown and neurotic fit, still. Apparently. But He's been bringing a lot into the light of awareness to be surrendered to Him, by the course. Seeing how broken and inept I am at being able to interact in a healthy, sustained manner without falling prey to all sorts of doubts and inconsistencies and fears and false hopes and undue dependency (even as idolatry)...really makes me want to just not interact with anyone again, ever, at close range or with any degree of emotional intimacy. But it's not mine to say or do anything with, except to be grateful to see so much that's wrong in light of being able to recognize the errors, at all. Rather than just being completely and totally waylaid by them all, like as used to be the case.
Trusting Him, then. With whatever comes. Not pressing for anything or withholding from anything, but surrendering.
I don't like it. I've proposed numerous other plans, including (proposed numerous times, as though He might bend now) changing churches, changing schedule, and just being entirely aloof (which was the intent for all and sundry, last week, and utterly failed). So, yeah. Maybe He'll let me run away. It would be nice. Personally preferable to facing particular fears. Or if He'd even just let me not speak, at all. At all. That would be a nice change, again. It was a long-practiced habit, after all. Very familiar. Comfortable. Much better than constantly saying much of nothing. Or saying strange things, and wondering why.
Maybe He'll at least give grace to stand up against things that seem awry. Though not condemning, then at least no longer conceding. No longer complicit in nonsense.
I'd rather just be away with the Lord. But that's not exactly what He prompts. Even if He basically has to drag me into interaction like an errant toddler, defiant all the while.
I miss being around people, though, is the rub. In general. I love people. In general. Despite being terrified and certain of impending harm and of my own reckless idiocy.
He'll line things out. And He'll line me out, over time, if nothing else.
That's what it all comes back to, though. There's nothing else. Jesus will do the things.
And that's more than enough. He knows precisely what's necessary. And what's best.
Even if it happens to be excruciating, in the process.
Which, quite frankly, seems to be pretty much all the time.
If so, though, then by necessity. He is a good God and knows what He's doing.
Not to say there's no grieving. Even alongside. Jesus grieved, too. But He didn't set up camp there, to live.
Unlike me.
All the more to be grateful He doesn't leave me to my own devices. I have no idea what tomorrow will be like, even. But He'll be there. And He'll help. Especially when there's nothing I can do to even dredge up the willingness to sit up, let alone prepare for the day. He doesn't leave me alone. He coaches me, relentlessly. And reminds me. And prods, one step, one moment, one thought to the next. And gives small gifts, all day. Even if I start out resistant to even being loved.
I can't say I would trust anyone else to deal so gently and insistently with me. I don't even deal that gently with myself. So, on that front, too, there's been some serious resistance to the idea of walking beside others. Because sin-sickened humans tend to hurt one another. A lot. We just do. And I don't quite understand how that's supposed to work to good. How He would do so. Even seeing so much He's done through my recent fellowship with others, these past multiple months.
Not as though I'm anywhere near...not even remotely near...being able to interact without having a breakdown and neurotic fit, still. Apparently. But He's been bringing a lot into the light of awareness to be surrendered to Him, by the course. Seeing how broken and inept I am at being able to interact in a healthy, sustained manner without falling prey to all sorts of doubts and inconsistencies and fears and false hopes and undue dependency (even as idolatry)...really makes me want to just not interact with anyone again, ever, at close range or with any degree of emotional intimacy. But it's not mine to say or do anything with, except to be grateful to see so much that's wrong in light of being able to recognize the errors, at all. Rather than just being completely and totally waylaid by them all, like as used to be the case.
Trusting Him, then. With whatever comes. Not pressing for anything or withholding from anything, but surrendering.
I don't like it. I've proposed numerous other plans, including (proposed numerous times, as though He might bend now) changing churches, changing schedule, and just being entirely aloof (which was the intent for all and sundry, last week, and utterly failed). So, yeah. Maybe He'll let me run away. It would be nice. Personally preferable to facing particular fears. Or if He'd even just let me not speak, at all. At all. That would be a nice change, again. It was a long-practiced habit, after all. Very familiar. Comfortable. Much better than constantly saying much of nothing. Or saying strange things, and wondering why.
Maybe He'll at least give grace to stand up against things that seem awry. Though not condemning, then at least no longer conceding. No longer complicit in nonsense.
I'd rather just be away with the Lord. But that's not exactly what He prompts. Even if He basically has to drag me into interaction like an errant toddler, defiant all the while.
I miss being around people, though, is the rub. In general. I love people. In general. Despite being terrified and certain of impending harm and of my own reckless idiocy.
He'll line things out. And He'll line me out, over time, if nothing else.
That's what it all comes back to, though. There's nothing else. Jesus will do the things.
And that's more than enough. He knows precisely what's necessary. And what's best.
Even if it happens to be excruciating, in the process.
Which, quite frankly, seems to be pretty much all the time.
If so, though, then by necessity. He is a good God and knows what He's doing.
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