The Coldest Heart

It usually happens that when I sit down to focus on schoolwork that I just become inspired in the Lord. Funny how that happens. Maybe subconsciously, I dislike school that much or maybe subconsciously I just become encouraged by God in the midst of work. Maybe its a combination of both if those options.

Well the semester is almost over isn't it? Less than a month of classes left and less than two months before I start Student Life. This has been the craziest semester of my life. I have experienced the greatest heartache of my life in the midst of the greatest joys. I guess that is what Paul meant when he said that "it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake, engaged in the same conflict that you saw I had and now hear that I still have" (Phil 1:29-30). Don't get me wrong, I understand that the situation that would mark the beginning of my spring semester was not direct suffering for the sake of the Gospel. But I also must recognize that it was from that circumstance that began to characterize my ministry. As I walked through this semester, I was surrounded by life's greatest struggles and sufferings. I recieved countless texts, facebook messages, emails, phone calls, and face-to-face interations from people dealing with life. As much as I have hated my circumstances, as much I wanted to give up, as much as I did give up at times, the countless texts, facebook messages, emails, phone calls, and face-to-face conversations that I sent to other people about dealing with my life, I know that God has been using it for his glory. Believe me, there have been many moments and probably many more to come in the next two months, two years, oh heck my lifetime, that I will cry out to God to just stop it all. Prayers filled with anger, resentment, honesty about my feelings and emotions, hatred, tears which have been my food day and night, screams, despondency, and exhaustion. I have gone through boxes of tissues, rolls of tiolet paper (used as tissues, lol), and tear-stained pillow cases, shirts, and Bible pages. I counted the things I saw as small victories. And never wanted to give Satan any credit for my present emotions and circumstance. Literally, to hell with Satan. Even when I didn't want to see my situation used for others, I prayed for it just the same. I prayed every side of every coin there is. It's a good thing that God understands me better than I do. My prayers probably seemed to be those of a pre-teen girl, with emotions up and down and back and forth. In the midst of it all though, I never wanted to lie to myself, God, or anyone else for that matter. If you asked me how often I cried, I would honestly declare everyday. I did make it a whole week and a half once without crying. But the crash from that was as if I was just storing up that whole week.

God is a big God. The biggest and only actually. He heard every word. He listened intently to every foolish word. He watched every pitiful tear that fell. He felt the moments that my heart was cold as ice and warm as the sahari desert. He held me together when I needed His strength, and he let me fall apart when I pushed away his comforting word. When I finally let myself be angry with Him instead of humanity, then we were really in business. He allowed me to yell at Him and tell him the very depths of my heart. He didn't leave, he didn't ask to talk about it another day. He let me beat against his chest in frustration then as I couldn't hold it in any longer, then as I couldn't fight against him any longer, I melted in his arms and Jesus just stroked my matted hair and picked up my shattered heart. And after a long pause of what seemed like an eternity. I brushed aside my own mangled bangs from my sad, tear-filled eyes, and said Okay let's do this together. If your name gets proclaimed, then let's do this together. If I must hurt for your sake, if things must suck for your sake, for their sake. Then suck on! Heartache doesn't just go away when you decide to move on. Its numbing pain takes its toll in many moments. As I allowed Jesus to give me the strength to stand, my heart continued to break for myself, but even harder than that, for the broken world surrounding me.

"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the catpives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and the day of vegeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion-- to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, THAT HE MAY BE GLORIFIED."

Isaiah 61:1-3

Isaiah understood mourning. He was called to proclaim freedom to those in captivity, but he was first a captive. He was first a man characterized by mourning. Jesus was a man of anguish, acquinted with grief. But like Jesus, I hope that when I say to people that its all going to be okay that they can believe me a little bit more. Why is that? Because I have to remind myself everyday that your love Lord Jesus is strong and I will be okay. "What do we do when we can't fight any more? We fight." (Mitch Landress). We fight on for joy in the Lord. Even when its the last thing we want to do.

I don't know what is next. I am unsure of where I go from here. I'm still trying to figure out exactly where here is. All I know is that love is here and love is now. Jesus, anoint me. Grant me the opportunity to believe and suffer for your sake. The cry of my heart is to proclaim liberty to the captives.

The Potter ...and the Complicated Clay

I have epitomes at the strangest moments in my life. This was my thought process last night as I took a shower. So God is the potter and we are the clay. A common analogy often talked about when we discuss how God is shaping and creating us into the people that he wants to. I read Isaiah 45:9-11.

"Woe to him who strives with him who formed him a pot among earthen pots! Does the clay say to him who forms it, "What are you making?" or 'Your work has no handles'? Woe to him who says to a father, 'What are you begetting?' or to a woman 'With what are you in labor?' Thus says the Lord, the Holy One of Israel, and the one who formed him: "Ask me of things to come; will you command me concerning my children and the work of my hands?"

Here is the thing Isaiah...yes we do question the Potter all the time. I know I do. I began to think about this. We get into a groove and feel like we know our place in this world. We think we have figured out what God is forming us into. We think that we are suppose to be one of the cool trendy mugs without a handle. Just really neatly shaped that fits perfectly in someone's hands. Then all of a sudden God begins to score away the clay, it hurts, its painful. "God, wait a minute, what are you doing?" He begins to add to this cup and begins to shape it in a tea kettle. "No God, I don't think you understand. I am a cup, not a kettle. You don't need to do all this. I'm tired. Its painful." But the thing is a tea kettle can pour more into other cups than a mug can. Does this mean you don't want to stay a mug. No. No it really doesn't. But here is the truth, and believe me its not a genius statement or anything. Finding purpose makes pain..well purposeful. I know epic revelation. I'd still like to be a mug. But finding purpose as a tea kettle makes it a little easier.