Please don't let my lack of reciprocation or seeking push you away. All of my deepest wounds are based in rejection. Every time I reach out, ask for help or even vaguely position myself to need you, I open myself up to be hurt again in the way that for me defines what it means to hurt. So as I lay in bed, wired on the coffee I drank so that I would have enough alertness to enjoy time with my wife and two close friends, I realize that I desperately try to position myself to not need anyone and continually fail miserably at it.
Though I am unworthy of you, I need you. Though I push you away, I need you. Though I don't give you the credit you deserve and argue with you when you try to bring me truth, I need you. Though I disqualify you in my mind as I find any flaw at all with your logic, attitude or execution of your motives, I need you.
I am not Uncle Sam, and I don't just want you, I need you. I won't make it without you. If you are a follower of Christ and God placed you in my life, I need you. You are God's grace to me, and I desperately need you.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
When What I Know Wrestles with My Deepest Fear
I had a conversation with my wife late last week that was largely about how I was doing in regards to being depressed. I've been struggling a lot lately. The following thoughts were the result of that conversation.
In John 6, Jesus reaches a pretty critical turning point in His ministry. Up until this chapter, everything is about drawing people in. At this point, He calls many of His disciples out on just wanting to see signs and goes so far as to say that they only believe because He filled their bellies. He made their lives more physically comfortable so they think that He will continue to do things for them. Even as He tries to turn their vision to something greater, they ask for a sign as proof of this greater thing. His desire to know each and every one of them intimately becomes obvious. He is pained by their desire to try to squeeze Him into theold current system.
It is obvious to those of us with the privilege of hindsight and the context of His ultimate sacrifice on the cross. Was it really so obvious for them though? I don't think it was at all. Even His disciples that had been following him for awhile said that it was a hard teaching. Translation= "What the heck is He talking about?" Most of them ended up turning away. Then the moment that defines this chapter for me occurs. Jesus turns to the twelve and asks if they are going to leave as well. Peter basically says, "There is no where else to go. You are the only game in town. We know that You are the Son of God."
I'm sure that whatever God is trying to teach me is painfully obvious to some of those around me, but to me it feels like being asked to be a cannibal. What do You really want, God? I just don't get it. I can't see the truth. Is this something that will make sense later as I'm sure this message did for the apostles after the resurrection? Or maybe this is all about just hanging on? Whatever the case, I have one comfort.
Just like the twelve, I know He is God. Where else will I go? Only He has the words of eternal life. Maybe that is enough. This chapter also says that He knows those that the Father has given Him and that they could only come to Him if granted it from the Father. What disturbs me is what follows.
He says that He Himself chose them, and yet one of them was a devil. He chose one that He knew would betray Him. It terrifies me that not all that are granted sight to know that He is God end up in His arms.
I don't have hindsight or eternal context for my present situation. How do I know that I am not one of the vessels that will be used up then thrown away? God would be perfectly just in making a creation to serve His other creations and then dispose of it. There would be nothing wrong with this He is God. He can do whatever He wants and it is automatically good. I guess what I am saying is that I am confronting the deepest of my fears. How do I know that He really loves me as His son? How do I know that is really what I am to Him? How do I know that He isn't just tolerating me for a time?
Regardless of my fears or feelings, I have only one choice--hang on or let go. That's not even a choice for me. I hang on. I wait. I hope for something better. I hope for all the things that just seem too good to be true about His love for me. I hope.
In John 6, Jesus reaches a pretty critical turning point in His ministry. Up until this chapter, everything is about drawing people in. At this point, He calls many of His disciples out on just wanting to see signs and goes so far as to say that they only believe because He filled their bellies. He made their lives more physically comfortable so they think that He will continue to do things for them. Even as He tries to turn their vision to something greater, they ask for a sign as proof of this greater thing. His desire to know each and every one of them intimately becomes obvious. He is pained by their desire to try to squeeze Him into the
It is obvious to those of us with the privilege of hindsight and the context of His ultimate sacrifice on the cross. Was it really so obvious for them though? I don't think it was at all. Even His disciples that had been following him for awhile said that it was a hard teaching. Translation= "What the heck is He talking about?" Most of them ended up turning away. Then the moment that defines this chapter for me occurs. Jesus turns to the twelve and asks if they are going to leave as well. Peter basically says, "There is no where else to go. You are the only game in town. We know that You are the Son of God."
I'm sure that whatever God is trying to teach me is painfully obvious to some of those around me, but to me it feels like being asked to be a cannibal. What do You really want, God? I just don't get it. I can't see the truth. Is this something that will make sense later as I'm sure this message did for the apostles after the resurrection? Or maybe this is all about just hanging on? Whatever the case, I have one comfort.
Just like the twelve, I know He is God. Where else will I go? Only He has the words of eternal life. Maybe that is enough. This chapter also says that He knows those that the Father has given Him and that they could only come to Him if granted it from the Father. What disturbs me is what follows.
He says that He Himself chose them, and yet one of them was a devil. He chose one that He knew would betray Him. It terrifies me that not all that are granted sight to know that He is God end up in His arms.
I don't have hindsight or eternal context for my present situation. How do I know that I am not one of the vessels that will be used up then thrown away? God would be perfectly just in making a creation to serve His other creations and then dispose of it. There would be nothing wrong with this He is God. He can do whatever He wants and it is automatically good. I guess what I am saying is that I am confronting the deepest of my fears. How do I know that He really loves me as His son? How do I know that is really what I am to Him? How do I know that He isn't just tolerating me for a time?
Regardless of my fears or feelings, I have only one choice--hang on or let go. That's not even a choice for me. I hang on. I wait. I hope for something better. I hope for all the things that just seem too good to be true about His love for me. I hope.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)