Inconsistency

I’m learning that prayer is a clever way of reminding us of where we stand. When we run to God with the small things, we begin to see Him as worthy of control over the small things in our lives. When we reach to God in desperation; in fear of what’s around us; even in doubt – a part of us is reminded that we are safe in His arms and in His presence no matter what state of mind we’re in. When we fall at His feet, crying out to Him in pain, confusion, loss – and there are no beautiful words that escape our mouths but only the wordless cries of our hearts – we realize we can always come to Him. He won’t ever say, “I can’t understand what you’re saying!” Or, “I can’t read your mind, you have to tell me what’s going on!” When we run to Him, with the biggest things in our lives, the very heaviest, we are saying more than what I used to think. We’re saying, “Here’s this big part of me. This is going to change things forever for me. I know now that my strength alone is insufficient to face this. I need you; YOU are the strength I need.”

 

With every great loss comes a great life change. I have been blessed to know some very incredible people. People with beautiful, almost super-human hearts. Flaws too, don’t get me wrong. But so much compassion and love it seemed unreal. And some of these people are no longer here. No longer warm the room with their laughter, hugs, or stories. One of these great blessings in my life was a friend of mine who left this temporary place in November. He is now climbing the most majestic mountains, seeing the most brilliant unending sunsets and sunrises, and soaking in the presence of holiness. Possibly writing music with my friend Kevin. Their bodies and hearts whole and perfect. 

 Some days, I don’t run to Him with things. Big or small, I think I can manage them on my own. Some days, I’m angry with Him. Very much like a child who doesn’t get her way. Some days, I demand that He takes the pain from me. Some days, I pretend the pain isn’t there. And God just patiently waits. Send me a message, in a song, in a book, in the sky. To remind me that He’s there waiting for me to run to Him. He knows I know that I can, but He is gently working on my heart, softening it up again, breaking down walls that I unknowingly built up, waiting for me to regain use of my legs so I can run on back to Him willingly.

 

This is not the Christmas Eve blog I thought I’d write. Trust me. I wasn’t even planning on writing at all. But I’m learning a whole lot right now. About the urgency of seeking joy in this life. Not acceptance from people, but true joy in what I do, because JOY seems to be a trail of clues God leaves for me to follow. I’m learning the importance of making the most of the life I have…not always doing the logical thing, but remembering that our days are numbered – and we are here for reasons. I’m learning that I may not feel God around me when I think I need Him the most, but that He still allows me to see the ways in which He is working. There are seasons where I feel Him with me but don’t see Him working – and seasons when it’s the opposite way. The bottom line that never changes, however, is that I never can doubt that He loves me.

 

We are complicated, inconsistent, and childlike individuals. At least I am. I doubt the things that are undeniable; question what He’s already answered, and long for the impossible. We are creatures who rebel against change by our very nature; we desire consistency and solid ground in a world that never ceases it’s movement and is always, without fail, inconsistent. Our very souls are aware that there must be more beyond the grave. We desire things that the world cannot give us – how is it explained any other way than in Eccl. 3:11 where it says, “…He has set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” ?

 

I am inconsistent, but I am not lost. I am blessed, but I complain. I forget, but He never does. If you’re like me, then that last one is helpful. He doesn’t forget. Not you, not ever. He loves you. And longs to gently clean and heal the open wounds that you have. He knows that we’re fragile, so things take time…He won’t rush us, even though He’s notorious for pushing us. But there is a difference.

 

This is  a hard Christmas for many. I can’t even imagine. But maybe, in the brokenness, they’ll catch a small glimpse of the fact that their heart is searching for something beyond their ahead years on earth. Beyond the fame, or the wealth, or the cars, or houses. Beyond what we can see and touch.

 

Maybe, in the brokenness, there will come the soft reminder that Home is waiting, and we aren’t quite there yet.

                                      We’ll get there someday.

                                                       And that, dear friends, will be the most wonderful, glorious day of all.

 

May He continue to bless you. And may you see it, so you never doubt that He’s there.