Just as I Am

I got together with a dear friend this afternoon. As we sipped our drinks, we, in the words of Audio Adrenaline “talked about all the things that really matter most, like life and love and happiness and then the Holy Ghost.”

It was not fun. At the end she said that she was all challenge today and not much invitation. (Yup. But I love and adore her.)

It’s hard to take a bunch of challenge, even if it is prefaced with a boatload of invitation.

So, I cried.

I went home and asked Alexa to play modern hymns and I got old school hymns.

I sat there and thought and concluded that I must be post-Christian now. Not Post-Christian like one of my friends whose theology consists of a laundry list of Thou Shalt Not Have Tos, but more like the only time I can think about God without a whole bunch of bad thoughts and feelings is when I’m with the little Munchkin and we listen to songs about all the things God thinks about us and the little Munchkin either gets super excited or he settles in and gets cozy and the only thing you hear from him is the occasional contented sigh. It’s like he knows what it means to be a Child of God. Maybe he does. Maybe he knows that way better than I ever will.

I knew this day would come.

Several years ago, I was at a college ministry weekend and as the weekend progressed, I had this awful foreboding feeling come over me. One of the people I had traveled with asked what was wrong and I said “I’m going to lose my faith.” I couldn’t completely shake the feeling, but I did get a sense that night that there would be a child in my life at some point with miraculous faith and their faith would sustain mine.

And look at that.

It happened.

Obviously, I can’t quantify the Munchkin’s faith, but his contentment in spite of everything and his response to songs about Jesus tells me that there’s…. something…. there.

As I pondered these things tonight, I thought maybe I should pray.

But, nope.

The music wasn’t helping either. Music speaks to me about every time I turn it on, so this is really weird.

And then….

Just As I Am….

Without one plea

But that Thy blood was shed for me

And that thou bid’st me come to Thee

Oh Lamb of God, I come. I come.

I was transported back to when I was about 4 years old and Billy Graham came to Fargo for a crusade. I attended one night back then and I don’t remember anything but the earnestness and the kindness in Billy’s voice. And Just as I Am. It wasn’t a message of condemnation, nor, necessarily, of God’s “wonderful plan for your life.” No. It was more a message about Jesus wanting us.

Just as I am and waiting not

To rid my soul of one dark blot

To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot

Oh, Lamb of God, I come. I come.

The beauty of Jesus is that you don’t have to come whole or spotless. There’s enough grace to cleanse all of it and more grace to drown in. Oh, the beauty of grace!

The verse that broke me and left me a pool of tears, my soul bare, was this:

Just as I Am though tossed about

With many a conflict, many a doubt

Fighting within and fear without

Oh Lamb of God, I come. I come.

He welcomes us with outstretched arms, even in our doubt. Even when we’re convinced that He’s not good and that He’s forgotten us. He welcomes us, even when we’re pretty convinced that He has spent the past year actively abandoning us. He. Wants. Us. In spite of it all. He wants us.

I got about this far in the song and I was a mess.

Just as I Am Thou wilt receive

Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve

Because Thy promise I receive

Oh Lamb of God I come. I come.

By this time, I believed. I came. I was a sniffling, tearful mess.

Whoever would have thought that God would use Billy Graham years after his death — and Alexa, of all things! — to change me from the inside out?

Friends, there’s hope. Jesus wants you too. All you have to do is come.

 

Busy-ness

Even very good things can sometimes become very bad for you.

I’ve been thinking lately about how full my life is. And I’ve noticed a pattern.

I fill my life to the brim in an effort to not have to think about how my life is void of everything I’ve ever desired in life.

When I was growing up, I dared to dream of having a husband and children. I knew it wasn’t likely to happen, but I thought maybe, if I played the cards right, things could work out.

As much as I want the desire to go away, it just won’t.

So I try to drown the sorrow of disappointment in a flood of activity.

Volunteering for every opportunity to serve at church.

Taking on every friend’s sorrows and trials.

Picking up every open shift at work.

Pursuing degrees, certifications and other educational opportunities.

Studying voraciously any number of topics. Health. Natural wellness. Oils, oils, oils. Psychology.

Reading everything I can get my hands on. Books. Magazines. Textbooks. Fiction and non-fiction. Then giving up fiction because the fantasy world in many works of fiction hurts my heart.

This past holiday season, I worked tirelessly because I could. It was holiday pay and overtime and it made everyone else feel good about their situation so there I was. It wasn’t bad. I love my job and if I can’t do holidays with my family, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than at my job. It doesn’t feel too much like a job so it was ok. (For the record, I asked to work a lot because I couldn’t get enough time off to go anywhere. I figured that if my options were to sit at home alone or to be at work, I’d rather be at work where I’d at least have someone to talk to.)

But they gave me several days before New Year’s off.

I had a mini crisis during my time off because for the first time in months, I had time to think and I felt like I was losing it. I cried for like 4 days straight.

It was then that I realized that for the past (roughly) 15 years, I’d crammed my life so full of good things that it numbed the pain of disappointment. As long as I was doing something or going somewhere, I was ok because I didn’t have to face how empty my life was.

I don’t think busy-ness is bad or wrong. I think sometimes God works through us in our deepest pain. Sometimes we need the activity just to give us a reason to get out of bed and sometimes many beautiful and lovely things can come out of those places of sorrow. Sometimes, for short periods of time, keeping busy is necessary and good. It helps us and it helps our families and friends, our churches and schools. Sometimes, busy-ness is a good thing.

But when it goes on…. for 15…. years….

That is when it becomes unhealthy.

Well, maybe it becomes unhealthy many years sooner than that. My point is, if you have to be that busy for a long time (longer than a few weeks to a few months), something is wrong and you need to address it.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what to tell anyone who might be struggling with this. I don’t even know how to help myself with this.

I’ve been thinking in the weeks since New Year’s about faith and how it pertains to the concept of busy-ness.

For many years, I was at church every time the door was open. I prayed. I read the Bible. I volunteered in ministries. I did everything I could. I did it to numb the pain and forget the sorrow. I found joy and laughter in it (sometimes) but it did nothing to heal the ache that no one saw.

I think it’s easy for us to think that if we’re focusing on God, we are doing good. It’s especially easy to think that by praying, serving and seeking God, we are moving in the direction of healing. Jesus is the healer, right? If we’re seeking Jesus, the Healer, we’re bound to find healing and restoration eventually, right?

Looking back on it, I can tell you that is not always the case. There have been times when I’ve used the words “I’ll pray about that” as a way to avoid making difficult decisions that would propel me into freedom. Sometimes I used church or ministry opportunities as an excuse to not do the things that would bring true restoration to my soul. Sometimes very good things — like prayer, ministry opportunities, church meetings and Bible studies — are the reason we stay stuck.

Don’t let good things come in the way of the best things.

The thief comes to steal, kill and destroy. I have come that you may have life, and have it more abundantly.
John 10:10

I’m not saying that everything a person does to keep busy is bad. I’m not saying that church and Christianity are bad. I’m saying that busy-ness can be the thief that comes to steal, kill and destroy. I’m saying that sometimes the thief (Satan) uses very good things to destroy us or to keep us in places of pain. Our job is to honestly assess the motives behind what we are doing and only do those things that will bring us abundant life.

If the Son sets you free, you are free, indeed!
John 8:36

Jesus has already set us free. We have only to figure out how to live free. We aren’t living free if we’re filling our lives to the brim with things that are designed to numb our pain.

 

30 Things, 4 Years Later: Day 27

That being said:

30 Things to Accomplish in my 30s:
#27. Visit Ireland. And Iran. And India. And Iraq. And maybe even Afghanistan. I want to go to Ireland because I’ve always been fascinated with the beauty, and I want to go to the other countries because I feel so much compassion for the women and girls who are in bondage because of religion and culture.

This illustrates why this hasn’t happened yet:

And, here is a solution to this problem:

(I didn’t say it was a good solution!)

A serious look at the feasibility of international travel:

For me, it would be slower going than that because I only spend $10 or more on a meal maybe 3 times a year. I never get drinks and I don’t think I’ve ever had more than 4 meals out in any given 7-day period, unless I was traveling.

But, if I cut those 1-4 weekly meals out, I might be able to save enough for a ticket somewhere once a year. Maybe.

At any rate…. I’ve been thinking about why I listed the countries I did.

I mean…. Iran? Iraq? Afghanistan? Seriously?

When I wrote the original list, ISIS hadn’t become a thing yet.

I’m not as daring today as I was then.

My heart still breaks for the mamas and the little girls in those countries who are property, not people. My heart aches for the young boys who are brainwashed into believing that blowing themselves up is somehow a good idea. I weep for the mothers who have to watch their babies train for suicide missions.

It’s so wrong on so many levels.

So, no, I haven’t traveled. I won’t get to the Middle East any time soon. I may never go anywhere. Who knows what will happen?

Now, to commence with the eating at home thing so I can go to Canada so I can check out the Hot Springs and see Aurora Borealis.