Answer

Today I've been surrounded by awareness of God's presence.  I don't know why.  I'm aware of what He's saying and feeling toward me more than usual.  This morning He impressed upon me that someone was praying for something and that I was the answer.

No, not that I, particularly, was an answer to someone's prayers in the cocky sense.  But quite the opposite.  It is tremendously humbling to think that someone has cried out to God to provide something they need desperately and that in answer, He sends me.

I don't know if this refers to something that has already happened, something that will happen, or just a parable-like lesson.  Maybe it's a combination of them all.  But I am honored and humbled.  I know my own flaws.  I know my own inadequacies.  I also know that I asked God to use me, to send me where He will.  I figured I'd be part of something or more likely a voice in the wilderness declaring God's message.  But to think that I, messed up and willfully rebellious, am the medium of God's answer to someone's cry from their heart.  It's so personal and tender I can barely allow myself to process it.  I'm trembling and crying as I type this.  I don't deserve to do it.  How can I represent God in the flesh?  How can these hands and this tongue convey a fraction of His love.  It's so far beyond me.

I know I am nothing more than the vessel.  What good comes from me is not me, but the Spirit Lord in me.  So logically, I know I can do this.  But I don't even feel capable of conducting this kind of power.

I will go, though.  I will do it.  Maybe I am, or already have.  Good God!  Thank you for using me.

Aha!

A while ago I mentioned briefly this feeling I've had at times in churches when I try to let go.  There's two reactions: uncontrollable crying and desire to tear the place up.  This happens when I try to open up to God in the service.  Not every time, but a lot of the time.  See usually, I sit quietly, but feel a bit like I have to strap myself in the seat...restrain myself you could say.  So I have various techniques for doing it.  Over the years they've become habitual and I don't really think about them that much.  This lets me get through the service without making some kind of scene. But when I decide to see if God is doing something; open myself up to whatever He has in that moment.  These are often the reactions I get.  I have never known why.

In the last post that mentioned it, I ended up going off in another direction and never explored it.  But then today, I tried again as I watched all these people doing similar behaviors, one arm raised, head to the side, swaying to the music, hands clutched to chest, etc.  I was thinking, is this just mimicry picked up from watching others and assuming that's what it looks like to have a spiritual experience of worship, or is it something universally real that I am missing?  So I opened myself and asked God to tell me what He was doing.  I felt the old desire to tear the place up!  So I quickly shut it down...but not before the thought hit me in connection with a recent Facebook post I made which quoted a modern adaptation of Isaiah 1:11-17.  I had posted it after reading it because it affected me so dramatically at the moment.  This connection was fleeting, but lingered long enough to make me question...am I really connecting with God's heart here?

Is my desire to tear up the place coming from His sorrow and frustration at the facade of religion that obscures who He is?  This is not unfounded.  Jesus tore up the temple courts in Jerusalem for the same reason.  There are many verses in the Bible where God expresses his displeasure at this very thing and the destruction it would cause.  Could the tears also be the other side of that coin?  Anger is just an expression of hurt, as is sorrow.  We feel both at the same time on many occasions.  Since our image is God's it follows that He feels it the same way.

So I delved a little deeper into that feeling and discovered that there isn't any malice in it.  I don't want to hurt people; I don't even have any ill will.  I just want to tear out the facade.  So I thought, what would I say if I did it?  This is what I discovered:

I would charge the stage, take the mic and as I set about tearing apart the decorations and apparati, I'd ask everyone if God was real to them.  Is He really real to them?  Is this all they expect?  Wake up and for once follow their hearts fully!  Let's see God really show up then and there!  I'd jump across the rows of chairs toward any person who responded, climb the light fixtures and rafters and bring the place into chaos.

No doubt most people would be terrified and I'd probably be tackled and drug out screaming...but if God did show up, there would be a moment like Pentacost...the real deal, not the equally fakey occurrences that happen weekly amongst groups of the pentacostal bent.

Has this ever happened to you?  Have you ever longed for something so real and hated the falsity of anything less?  Have you felt things inside you that you aren't sure where they come from?  If so, don't settle. You're not alone and perhaps even less alone than you think.

Deep Cuts

I feel like something is happening deep inside me.  My perceptions are changing, my reactions too.  Emotions surface at strange times and in strange ways.  It's almost like someone is rooting around deep inside and trying to sort things out.  Which may very well be what is happening.  Sometimes what comes up is not pleasant.  Mostly it isn't I guess.  Things I never even new about myself will just pop up from deep down and I am taken aback.

Also pains will surface in ways and about things I didn't even know hurt me.  I'm finding that I often react in anger to what is truly a fear.  I've seen this before in people and I don't think it's that odd.  But I never knew I was doing it.

It isn't all bad.  Sometimes great joys surface and I find a very unshakable peace and confidence in many things.  But just as quickly a new circumstance or stray comment or sometimes just out of nowhere, I'll be hit with something else.

Last night I was restless again...which has occurred for the past few nights.  It's partly some things I understand: physical, circumstantial, manageable.  But then last night it just wouldn't quit.  I kept calling out to God in my dreams.  I could see Jesus standing a distance away but couldn't keep my focus on him.  Then I'd slip into another fitful dream.  Then this morning as dawn came I woke enough to prayed verbally about some things that were on my mind.  Then I started crying and couldn't stop for about an hour.  Then it was over.  I'm not even sure what it was that upset me other than it felt like I had my heart uprooted all night.

I can only imagine how much more intense this must have been for Jesus when he was living on this earth.  He has been described by third party historians as somber and quiet.  No doubt looking at the world from God's perspective has great joys, but also many pains as he saw the hardness of hearts and confusion of minds.  The general lostness of the all those around him.  I'm having enough trouble being confronted with my own and the occasional glance into those he places close to me.