Inadequacy and Separation and Heartbreak and Wearing that Heart on that Sleeve (And a loving, forgiving, beautiful, joyful Hope...)

I’ve heard it said numerous times recently that stress and anxiety are severe forms of selfishness because they reflect an inability to rely on Jesus for the necessities of life. The last couple of days, I have seen life pass by in a blur because I’ve literally rushed through them in an attempt to feel accomplished about something. In return, in all honesty, I have not gotten a single thing done. Rather than waiting on the Creator, I’ve created this mess of tangled webs in my head, constricting my heartbeat to small, fast paced pulses. I’m not trying to be poetic. I'm wondering at the fact that I haven’t had a frickin’ heart attack. I’m breathing too heavy and my heart’s racing too fast. And since I haven’t been relying on Jesus, it’s led to sinful “fulfillments” of myself through thoughts and actions displeasing to the Lord.

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!”- Philippians 4:4

“When I am consumed by my problems – stressed out about my life, my family, my job – I actually convey the belief that I think the circumstances are more important than God’s command to always rejoice. In other words, that I have a “right” to disobey God because of the magnitude of my responsibilities. Worry implies that we don’t quite trust that God is big enough, powerful enough, or loving enough to take care of what’s happening in our lives. Stress says that the things we are involved in are important enough to merit our impatience, our lack of grace toward others, or our tight grip of control. Basically, these two behaviors communicate that it’s okay to sin and not trust God because the stuff in my life is somehow exceptional. Both worry and stress reek of arrogance.” – Francis Chan

Isn’t It absolutely ridiculous how we, as Christians, can want something so badly, and turn over and over again to the very thing that takes us away from him? It’s incredible to me. It’s angering to me.

Lord, turn my thoughts of lust to thoughts of longing for you. Please, turn my self-reliance to a selfless reliance upon you.

In Christ, there is no condemnation. This blows my mind. When I fail, I’m prone to damn myself to a day’s or a week’s worth of sulking and self-pity. But in Christ, there is no condemnation. Yes, of course, there are consequences for sin, but so often if I start the day off wrong, or if I screw up in the middle of it, or if I end it in sin, I get into this, “Welp! I messed up, Lord! I failed you! Now you can’t use me today anymore! Now I’m worthless until the sun rises again and your mercies start anew!"

But God’s mercies started anew at the cross and into forever, for forever, and I am not worthless. In Christ, there is no condemnation. Thank Jesus for that.

I want a complete and total transformation. After seeking and knowing joy in Jesus, it is incredible how much it hurts when I fail and seek fulfillment in something other than him. It’s like my heart breaks. Shatters, even. It’s like this enormous, heavy disappointment in myself – this weighty separation from God. It’s frustrating to know that, on this earth, I will fail and I will sin and I will rebel against the God that I want more than anything else to be close to. Such is life.

I cannot imagine hell. Yes, the fire and the brimstone and the gnashing of teeth and the darkness are enough to know that I do not want to spend eternity there… but the separation from God… that’s what does it. It brings me to tears to even think of it.

Oh, how thankful I am for the love and forgiveness of Jesus. Because despite the inevitability of sin on this earth, in this place, in this time, we have the joyful anticipation of heaven – of perfection and closeness – a bear hug from Jesus Christ.

Love

Everything we said we'd do to make this happen has fallen by the wayside.
I've let myself deteriorate into this stagnant person
that settles for less than his purpose.
And I've given you less than yours.
These keys that unlock the door to normality, they fit the locks so very, very perfectly,
and I let the comfort become commonplace to point that risk
was so null and void it didn't exist.
Every day I have someone screaming in my ear that life is not about feeling,
but it's hard to feel like listening when the voice is so pervasive that it becomes intrusive,
and yet still it echoes
through a verse,
through conversation,
from the pulpit,
from these prophetic mouths.
As it turns out, the little things aren't so little,
and the small things end up being bigger than you imagine
as you stop taking notice and let them slip away.

Those little love notes were the things that made us shine,
but now you know I love you,
so I've stopped putting forth the time
to tell you anyway.

Now that the butterflies are gone, it's hard to catch one in this jar,
and over the months I've compartmentalized the sections of my soul,
and built a solid rock wall around my heart.
There's a butterfly in each drawer, and each one might even still be alive,
but they haven't been able to play,
and I haven't let them fly…
So all of me is still living for you,
but somehow some of the pieces got separated ,
and a couple of them started holding record of wrongs,
and a couple of them got irritable,
and a couple of them started to feel abandoned,
and a lot of them forgot what it was like
before we became normal people and lost that infatuation.

Those little acts of kindness are the things that keep us alive,
but now I know you love me,
so I've stopped putting for the effort,
and I can afford to be rude.

None of these butterflies should have been allowed to fly away.
I should have kept a closer watch.
I should have let the sun in,
and we shouldn't have settled for normality
when then shadows started to turn
those beautiful bright wings a dull gray.
I swear I will act my way into feeling so that we can feel again
and so that we can love again
and so that we can fall in love again.

Those little things that we let slip away will be what pull us back together,
and we know that we are in love,
and I cannot promise you perfection, but I can apologize for where I have failed,
and I can become vulnerable again,
and I can love you the way that you are meant to be loved