I’m struggling for my last breath. I’m fighting for my rights. I sense the tug-of-war inside of me—the desire to hold onto myself, when I know that I’m dying.
What are our first instincts as humans when we feel threatened? We fight, or flight. Usually, our instinct translates spiritually—we either fight what God is trying to do, or flight and refuse to deal with the problems. Out of the greats in the Bible, sometimes I see myself as Moses—passionate about God, but at times, fiercely stubborn. I’m at times too quick to respond, too quick to analyze, too quick to argue rather than trust.
So, I’m learning to die. And if community doesn’t kill me, I don’t know what will.
I’ve learned to walk in solitude well, and I’ve treasured the ebbs and flows of walking solely with Jesus. In the season of solitude, I have experienced intimacy, and watched Him keep me from discussing my problems with people so I could depend on Him alone. Like a young shepherd boy herding his sheep. Like John in the island of Patmos. Like the God-man walking in the desert.
Now, Jesus has placed me in community with five women. We’re sharing a room, a table, feedback, team time—living life together. And it’s hard.
Iron sharpens iron, the proverb says.
And you will die in the grinding, I say.
What sharpens iron? The continual rubbing together until both pieces are smooth and sharp. However, the grinding produces sparks, and it is uncomfortable and inconvenient. The grinding digs into you, and exposes the imperfections you’ve masked so well, and the “rights” you claim are yours.
In the beginning, we all wear the mask. We paint he picture of our best self, and let me tell you, at my best, I am incredible, mysterious, and wildly exotic.
Three months later, the mystery is lost. I’m still wonderful, but now we know that sometimes I wake up a little grumpy. I can shut down in uncomfortable situations. I can place expectations on people, and most times, I’m too hard on myself.
I love Jesus, and I know He is refining a right Spirit within me that cannot be offended. And I don’t always have to kneel and wonder how He’s sharpening me, because I have five other blades ready to smooth me.
Most days are wonderful. Some days are not. But, may I always embrace the pruning. There are times when I’m frustrated, and I hate it. I know I’m frustrated because I’ve placed expectations on people, and I’m holding on to my rights. I want to be justified. However, every time I kneel, I ask Jesus to refine me into a woman who cannot be offended. A woman who is a perfect conduit for the Holy Spirit, is not concerned about defending herself, and embodies love in every situation.
Why?
I pray, because I know Jesus was not offended while He walked on this earth. He was falsely accused, and He didn’t fight for his own rights. He spoke truth, and did the will of the Father. And if Jesus could walk this earth in love and carrying no offense, so can I because the Holy Spirit is inside of me.
Jesus didn’t raise his hand and justify Himself.
No, He knew His purpose. He knew His allegiance. The Spirit of God was in Him.
The Spirit of God is in me.
And I will die. The flesh will die, so the Spirit can flourish. The old man is dead, and the new man lives.
