There are songs we sing at The Village that I just can't choke out, not quite yet:
my chains are gone, I've been set free...
sin has lost it's power...
rid me of myself...
no more my God, I boast no more...
And songs I simply force out due to the truth of them:
i could run away, you would never leave, you will always stay right by my side. And I need you - every step of the way...
come and listen, come and listen to what He has done...
God of my hurting, God of my healing...be my everything
Fear not, I will pilot thee...
They are all swirling around in my head tonight as I have thought these past few days about worship, about why I can't seem to sing all of the songs, why I can't get through a church service without the tears, why I can't comprehend the blessings of life and community and being His...
It only seems to make a speck of sense to me tonight in the songs:
I want to sit at your feet, drink from the cup in your hand, lay back against you and breathe, and feel your heartbeat...this love is so deep, it's more than I can stand... I melt in your peace, it's overwhelming...
3.05.2008
3.04.2008
the question...
The blessing of beautiful white snow that fell last night covered over a pretty tough day and also managed to reminded me of the exact moment when I realized I needed to let Jesus love me. Quite a job for just a little snow, right?
It was last spring when I was in Colorado for a conference -enjoying the mountains and the music and the people and the air, but not being too sold on the weekend's intent. There was this focus on asking God questions, then just sitting around on the side of a mountain waiting for Him to answer. Covanents of Silence, these moments were called. Go ask Him if He loves you and then just sit there and get your answer...I was annoyed, It wasn't fitting with how my relationship with Jesus had been up until that point. It was all too, well, spiritual for me.
So, not wanting to disturb all of the other women actively engaged in their silences, I would go out and dutifully sit. I did actually ahve some sweet moments with God during those times, I praised Him for the view and the rest and the beauty He was showing me...but I never quite got around to asking Him that question:
"Do you love me?"
Of course He loves me, right? I am His daughter, His child, His princess, His joy. I see now that those words, for so long, had been just words to me. Just answers on Sunday morning. Just empty encouragements heaped on friends feeling down. Empty. Oh, how I have realized this year the power in the words of the Lord! These words that I always quoted, memorized, used to sound right and good and wise. There is this immeasurable power in the words of the Lord, and I never caught on to that. Never caught on to the weight of the truth of being the daughter of the King. Daughter of the King. They kept telling me that there in Colorado. Kept telling me that He whispers my name and wants to tell me secrets about how much He loves me, but I wasn't ready to hear it. I wasn't even ready to ask the question.
On the final night there I woke at 4:30 to something tapping on the window near my bed. I looked out to find a covering of fresh snow so thick, I could see nothing else. It sat like a blanket over everything, shining in the moonlight. It was a stunning scene. I put on my coat and boots and walked outside. The flakes were falling huge and gentle all around me. I could here nothing but the falling of snowflakes through the trees, seeming to sizzle as they landed. I will never forget that moment. I suddenly realized that I was the only one taking in this incredible view. I suddenly believed that Jesus had tapped on that window to call me outside. I suddenly did not think things were too spiritual there in the mountains. He wanted me to be in this unbelievable moment that He created just for me. He told me, right then, that He loved me. I stood there on the porch, literally surrounded by nothing but pure, clean, whiteness,,,overwhelmed. See, He wouldn't let me get away with being too afraid or too cynical to ask the question. He just pulled me out of my bed in the middle of the night to give me the answer before I could even utter the words. I told Him right then, in my typical fashion of running away when things get a bit close, that I was a bit nervous and not really sure how to accept such a gift...
It was then that He asked me the question that I am only now starting to form an answer to.
He asked me if I could just let Him love me.
It was last spring when I was in Colorado for a conference -enjoying the mountains and the music and the people and the air, but not being too sold on the weekend's intent. There was this focus on asking God questions, then just sitting around on the side of a mountain waiting for Him to answer. Covanents of Silence, these moments were called. Go ask Him if He loves you and then just sit there and get your answer...I was annoyed, It wasn't fitting with how my relationship with Jesus had been up until that point. It was all too, well, spiritual for me.
So, not wanting to disturb all of the other women actively engaged in their silences, I would go out and dutifully sit. I did actually ahve some sweet moments with God during those times, I praised Him for the view and the rest and the beauty He was showing me...but I never quite got around to asking Him that question:
"Do you love me?"
Of course He loves me, right? I am His daughter, His child, His princess, His joy. I see now that those words, for so long, had been just words to me. Just answers on Sunday morning. Just empty encouragements heaped on friends feeling down. Empty. Oh, how I have realized this year the power in the words of the Lord! These words that I always quoted, memorized, used to sound right and good and wise. There is this immeasurable power in the words of the Lord, and I never caught on to that. Never caught on to the weight of the truth of being the daughter of the King. Daughter of the King. They kept telling me that there in Colorado. Kept telling me that He whispers my name and wants to tell me secrets about how much He loves me, but I wasn't ready to hear it. I wasn't even ready to ask the question.
On the final night there I woke at 4:30 to something tapping on the window near my bed. I looked out to find a covering of fresh snow so thick, I could see nothing else. It sat like a blanket over everything, shining in the moonlight. It was a stunning scene. I put on my coat and boots and walked outside. The flakes were falling huge and gentle all around me. I could here nothing but the falling of snowflakes through the trees, seeming to sizzle as they landed. I will never forget that moment. I suddenly realized that I was the only one taking in this incredible view. I suddenly believed that Jesus had tapped on that window to call me outside. I suddenly did not think things were too spiritual there in the mountains. He wanted me to be in this unbelievable moment that He created just for me. He told me, right then, that He loved me. I stood there on the porch, literally surrounded by nothing but pure, clean, whiteness,,,overwhelmed. See, He wouldn't let me get away with being too afraid or too cynical to ask the question. He just pulled me out of my bed in the middle of the night to give me the answer before I could even utter the words. I told Him right then, in my typical fashion of running away when things get a bit close, that I was a bit nervous and not really sure how to accept such a gift...
It was then that He asked me the question that I am only now starting to form an answer to.
He asked me if I could just let Him love me.
3.02.2008
maybe....
So I opened this blog site back in October, apparently. I remember writing a few things - something about strange dreams and bad habits - and then later deleting them all in a fit of humiliation. What if someone actually read my words? Made a comment? Knew my thoughts? What if?
Maybe, just maybe, this time I will leave things alone and just write...because I have some things to say. Seriously.
I am in what I have decided to call Honesty Group Overload this semester. Between my home group through church, group counseling class (which includes two hours a weeks of actual group therapy), and my Recovery step study group, I am being exposed at every turn. Thirty-something years of hiding are being rapidly overturned in such a short season. Now, I have been in small groups for years, even been in individual therapy two different times, but nothing has come close to the stripping away that I am currently experiencing.
It is miserable. It is wonderful. It often gives me tired head.
People so often say that the Lord had to hit them upside the head- or some other similar reference basically meaning that the really dark days had to fall before they could begin to see the light. Well, I am realizing here this spring (ah...so ready for the spring...I need flowers and flipflops and cool sunny days...) that the Lord just had to rearrange my schedule. He made sure that all of these groups lined up during the same 18 week period because He knows me so well. He knows that I procrastinate, that I do things halfway, or even just enough to get by. He knows that I love to talk about what I want to do more than I actually do it, and He knows that I am not disciplined enough to do things well and deeply and fully....on my own. He arranged for me to be bombarded with honesty. I feel like I have been pushed (not even so gently) into this moving river and this time I want to experience it all, do it well...
Two and sometimes three times a week I am finding myself sitting, exposed, in a circle of other fallible, miserable, wonderful, tired-headed folks sharing all of our...stuff...
And I am surviving. Learning even. Getting better. Seeing what healing can feel like, if only just hints of it here and there. Catching glimpses of where I hope to be. Being taught how to get there. And it all begins with letting the God of the Universe love me.
And that is for my next post...
Maybe, just maybe, this time I will leave things alone and just write...because I have some things to say. Seriously.
I am in what I have decided to call Honesty Group Overload this semester. Between my home group through church, group counseling class (which includes two hours a weeks of actual group therapy), and my Recovery step study group, I am being exposed at every turn. Thirty-something years of hiding are being rapidly overturned in such a short season. Now, I have been in small groups for years, even been in individual therapy two different times, but nothing has come close to the stripping away that I am currently experiencing.
It is miserable. It is wonderful. It often gives me tired head.
People so often say that the Lord had to hit them upside the head- or some other similar reference basically meaning that the really dark days had to fall before they could begin to see the light. Well, I am realizing here this spring (ah...so ready for the spring...I need flowers and flipflops and cool sunny days...) that the Lord just had to rearrange my schedule. He made sure that all of these groups lined up during the same 18 week period because He knows me so well. He knows that I procrastinate, that I do things halfway, or even just enough to get by. He knows that I love to talk about what I want to do more than I actually do it, and He knows that I am not disciplined enough to do things well and deeply and fully....on my own. He arranged for me to be bombarded with honesty. I feel like I have been pushed (not even so gently) into this moving river and this time I want to experience it all, do it well...
Two and sometimes three times a week I am finding myself sitting, exposed, in a circle of other fallible, miserable, wonderful, tired-headed folks sharing all of our...stuff...
And I am surviving. Learning even. Getting better. Seeing what healing can feel like, if only just hints of it here and there. Catching glimpses of where I hope to be. Being taught how to get there. And it all begins with letting the God of the Universe love me.
And that is for my next post...
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