Perspective

Only 36 hours after leaving home, sitting at the same conference that 2 years ago changed my life, it's clear that I lack perspective. 

It's like that ride at the amusement parks...the one that shoots you up high all of a sudden, taking your breath away, and then you can see for miles (or it feels like miles) and all the people below you look small. 

Nothing changes in that moment that you're on the ride. Except that you can see from a different point of view.

Being pulled up here, to what is traditionally called a "mountaintop experience" (I've always hated that expression), I can see now what my life really looks like.

It's so easy for me to get caught up in the daily. The stuff that is right here in front of me, demanding my attention, either because it is a responsibility or because it is deeply felt. Work, work out, church, Origin kids, eat, sleep, keep going.

It's not that all of those things are bad. It's not even that many of those things should change. I get dragged down by them though, when I can't see above them. Or when I forget to try.

But at a conference with a million (give or take) women, where everything fell apart and came together 2 years ago, I can see so much better for a second. 

If I walk in shadows, with my head hung low, hopelessness in my eyes as I survey my life, it is because I Do. Not. Understand. The Gospel.

Don't be fooled by my ability to quote the events of the gospel. Don't let me deceive you with my words that make sense and flashes of understanding you've seen here. 

If the gospel is true, and if I believe it, there is no cause for anything but rejoicing. 

If what He says is true, and if I'm really saved, and if I really get to live with Him, and if He really promises all of His promises to me, I should feel JOY. It should radiate from my very being. 

Forget singleness, forget night shift, forget struggles and relationship frustrations and being tired and weary. 

Condemn all of that rotten, putrid negativity to hell. 

I am saved. And He is with me. And He loves me. Not just me, but He loves us so much that He did the unthinkable. And He wants us to live with Him for always.

Even as I write that, I think to myself, "Come on, that's the cliche ending to a blog, maybe you should write something different."

And that's the problem, that I even think that. 

That which is incomprehensible and the greatest mystery we will ever know can never be cliche. So I'll say it again. And again. And again. It. Is. Not. Old. News. It's not.

I know this is maybe what you would expect from somebody who just got to hear Don Carson, John Piper, Tim Keller and a whole bunch of other people talk about the gospel for a whole weekend. And you might be thinking, "yeah, we'll see how long that lasts." 

Oh, I know because I'm the cynic. I think that about myself, even now.

I don't know a lot right now. I do know this: I'm going to mess this up. I'm going to get depressed again. I'm going to lose perspective. But I also know my tendencies and shortcomings will not be allowed to devalue what God has/is/will do through His son. He has already fought this battle. 

So, I want to learn what it is to truly be filled with joy not because of my circumstances, not because of how God blesses me or withholds, but because the Gospel is enough. Pray for Him to keep my perspective where it ought to be.

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,” lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken. But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me. 

Psalm 13:3-6

Idol

I've been silent for a while now. I mean blog-wise, but maybe you could say I've been silent in general.

I haven't known what to say.

I'm not even sure I know what to say now. This will either be very short or very long.

All I know is that I'm convicted to write something. I even asked the Holy Spirit "ummm....what exactly do you want me to say?"

Immediately, I saw Moses and the burning bush, and Moses telling God he doesn't talk so good, can somebody else go?

Alright, I'm not going to say that what I have to say is remotely as epic as what Moses had to say. But there was my answer, anyway.

I haven't known what to say, because I haven't even known how to fully express where I am, exactly.

Guess what? I'm struggling with being single. Which is really just another way to say that I'm struggling because of my idolatry of marriage and my lack of trust. I don't believe that God is doing his best for me.

I have honestly come to a point of utter hopelessness about ever getting married. There. I said it. Cue the sympathetic "awws" and encouragement that I will TOTALLY get married, I just need to do x, y, or z.

That's not the point. I've been waiting for something, anything or anybody to encourage me. A verse that can be taken as a sign from the Lord that it will really happen for me. Maybe somebody will have a vision and see my future husband and it's so soon and oh my gosh, we better plan the wedding.

Maybe this is why I haven't been writing.

But all of this is not the real problem.

My real problem is that I refuse to let it go. I refuse to open my fist and let him take this desire of my heart, the one that makes me feel like I'm not sure I want to keep doing this life thing if I don't get it. (No, I'm not suicidal. I promise.) I refuse to let him have the most intimate desires of my heart and soul.

I don't know if it was a breakthrough or just a good day today, but I was thinking about it and it was like he was saying "OK, you can either be miserable and stay here, or you can come with me, and we'll deal with it."

Umm, excuse me, I want you to deal with it by fixing it!

But that's not where I am. And ultimately, is that going to help me? Because what happens when marriage isn't what I thought or what happens if my husband dies or just plain old leaves and then what? Who do I stand with then?

So, I have to deal with it. I have to just hand it to him. Honestly, I don't feel like I have the best attitude about it. There's not so much sweet surrender as there is a chucking the thing and saying "Fine, whatever." Hopefully this will get prettier than that.

But I'm willing to do this. Because deep down in my heart and soul, I know that he's the only one who can fix it. And not just by bringing me a husband, but dealing with my absolute idol that I have made it. I know that, even though I don't feel it right now, or maybe I won't ever, this is the best thing. He's not making a mistake. He's not making a mistake. He's not making a mistake.

Please don't think I'm in despair. Please don't worry about me. We all have something like this.

Please do pray for me. Pray for God to take this really awful idol out of my hands. Pray for my stubborn hands to let go when he pulls. Pray for my heart to be full of joy. Pray for whatever this is going to look like to glorify him. Ultimately, when I get past all the ugly layers, that's what I actually want.

But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patiencevessels of wrath prepared for destruction, in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory— even us whom he has called, not from the Jews only but also from the Gentiles? As indeed he says in Hosea,

“Those who were not my people I will call ‘my people,’
    and her who was not beloved I will call ‘beloved.’”
“And in the very place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’
    there they will be called ‘sons of the living God.’”