A Prayer

But oh, I just don't know!
I want to stay; I want to go.
Would the world were a single point,
And all my loves together.
Don't make me leave; don't make me stay!
I am rooted down; I am chased away.
The warmth of Home eludes me.

O God, to whom all is Near,
Put me in my proper place.

Time

I have Wednesdays off from work, for reasons that aren't entirely clear to me. It seems like it's the one day of the week when everyone else in the world is busy. So usually, I just end up spending the whole day alone; which isn't good for me, because at some point over these three post-home school years, I've become an extrovert--which is not to say that I'm always fun or interesting to be around; but I draw a sort of energy from being around people I like, and when I'm alone and unoccupied for a whole day like I was today, I kind of go crazy. Today it was so bad that I was willing to just go for an aimless drive, even though gas is more expensive than human blood, and even though I drive a '92 Blazer that chugs it, and even though it was close to 1 am.

Another symptom of the kind of loneliness I can get on days like this is a sort of nameless melancholy. I say nameless because a lot of the time it doesn't really have an object. Sometimes I just feel sad, and it's not because of anything in particular. Tonight God used that feeling of sadness to kind of open up some deep places in my heart; things related to my past and my childhood that I hadn't really brought to him for healing yet.

I decided to drive by the house I lived in about 12 years ago, when I was nine years old, because it's kind of out in the sticks, but not a sketchy place to go at one in the morning. Seeing it got me thinking about my childhood. People talk about having good or bad or happy or tragic childhoods, but to be honest, I don't know which of those would best describe mine. Maybe I was just not as reflective as other children, but whether or not my childhood was good or bad really depended on whatever was happening to me at any given moment. On days when I didn't have school work to do and I got to play video games a lot, I had a good childhood; on days when I had to go with my mom on errands or--God forbid!--to the mall, I had a bad childhood. I don't think I really had a sense of continuity between days, or even between different parts of the same day, until I was eleven or twelve years old.

But thinking about my childhood did bring up the rest of my past, and things did happen that were more detrimental than a day lost to shopping. I think I've had kind of a utilitarian approach to the painful things that have happened in my past; "I know what happened, I've learned what I can from it, let's move on." But in my hurry to get past the pain, I think I may have neglected to take it to God, and ask for His healing. If God will heal me of the wounds I've suffered, then I know He can use even my scars to show His glory. But if I don't take the injuries and disappointments of my past to Him, they become just some bad things that happened to me, that maybe I learned something about coping or human nature from, but that ultimately don't mean much.

I don't want to go on with the futile bandages of utilitarianism over these cuts and wounds. I want to open them up to my Father's healing hands.

But God has been good to me, especially over the past few years, since I've moved back to Georgia. And in reminding me of my past, He also brought to my memory all the good things that have happened in it. I've been blessed beyond telling in the wonderful people He's brought into my life over these three-and-a-half years; friends, and role models, and brothers and sisters. My heart is full because of them. God has taught me so much through the people He's brought into my life in recent years. My friends have been the kindness and provision of God to me. When I was backwards and weird, they reached out to me, to better me; when I was lonely, they comforted me; when I was a pessimistic killjoy, they brightened me up. I can't even express my gratitude toward and for them. And though I've drifted apart from many of them, God is teaching me even in that how to enjoy His gifts for a season while He gives them, and gracefully and thankfully let them go when He takes them away. There are friends I've lost touch with, but I am never far from them in spirit. They have a home in my heart.

Right here in the present, I am happier, and more joyful, and more hopeful, and more at peace than I have ever been. I am walking more closely with God than I ever have. Wonderful things are happening, and I am very much looking forward to what God is going to do. He's bringing new people into my life, and I am excited to build new relationships with them, with Christ as our foundation. I don't have any idea what's going to happen, but I know God is going to be in it, and I'm genuinely excited to be who and where I am right now.

I suppose that's all kind of rambling, but it's been an emotional night for me, and I didn't want to let the urgency of it slip away without trying to write it down. Thank you for reading my ramblings. God bless you.

Isaiah 55

The following is not an original thought; but after so many millennia of human history and thought, I should think any original thought outside the realm of science and technology to be extremely suspect.

The following is not an original thought; it is one of my favorite passages in the Scripture: chapter 55 of the book of Isaiah. If I were a student at a school of theology I might be equipped to give you some context, or to make a very insightful comment on it; but I am not, and other than this chapter, I haven't read Isaiah for a while. So instead I'm just going to tell you that this chapter makes me want to shout, and then let it speak for itself.

Isaiah 55
Ho, everyone who thirsts,
come to the waters;
and you that have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without price.
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,
and your labor for that which does not satisfy?
Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good,
and delight yourselves in rich food.
Incline your ear, and come to me;
listen, so that you may live.
I will make with you an everlasting covenant,
my steadfast, sure love for David.
See, I made him a witness to the peoples.
See, you shall call nations that you do not know,
and nations that do not know you shall run to you,
because of the LORD your God,
the Holy One of Israel,
for he has glorified you.

Seek the LORD while he may be found,
call upon him while he is near;
let the wicked forsake their way,
and the unrighteous their thoughts;
let them return to the LORD, that he may have mercy on them,
and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts that your thoughts.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
and do not return there until they have watered the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

For you shall go out in joy,
and be led back in peace;
the mountains and the hills before you
shall burst into song,
and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;
instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;
and it shall be to the LORD for a memorial,
for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.

On Submission

What if I could take Jesus seriously?

My whole life, I have read His promises of peace and hope and joy and eternal life and received them happily, and soundly closed the book whenever He started to talk about me denying myself, and taking up my cross (that is, readying myself to go to my death) and following Him.

But what if I didn't do that?

God's promises and His commands are one. The command to take up our crosses and the promise of eternal life cannot be separated from one another, because taking up our crosses is the only way we can obtain eternal life. It's written on the foundation of the whole creation: Nothing may really live that will not submit to death. Even Jesus Christ, God-in-the-flesh, submitted to the will of His Father, which was death, for the greater glory that was set before Him.

So what if I took up my cross?

What if I let go of comfort, of fast food and television and air-conditioning, and allowed Jesus to make me to be content with only Himself?

What if I let go of controlling my own life (control was only ever an illusion anyway) and submitted to go where He sends me?

What if I let go of my ego, of my need to be right, and to be liked, and to have my rights, and submitted to be despised and abused and made to look foolish, if that would bring glory to Christ?

Jesus is my Savior. What if I also submitted to Him as my Lord--my Owner and Ruler?

"O the depths of the riches and the wisdom and the knowledge of God!
How unsearchable are His judgments, and how inscrutable His ways!
For 'Who has known the mind of the Lord?
Or who has been His counselor?
Or who has given a gift to Him,
To receive a gift in return?'
For from Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever."

That's from Romans 11. I forget the exact reference, but it's verse 30-something--close to the end. My pastor preached on it a month or two ago, and he said something I don't think I'll ever forget. In those verses, St. Paul puts his whole discourse on pause, and just breaks into doxology, praising God. He paints a picture of God, exalted and holy; whose decisions are beyond finding out, whose actions are too great, too far-reaching, too powerful even to be examined. And my pastor's comment was this: There are only two reasonable ways to react to that kind of God: either to submit to him without reservation, or to just walk away.

I cannot walk away from God. I've been down that road, and I know where it goes. When we walk away from God, all that waits for us is misery and futility and death of every kind.

But I have only been playing with the idea of submission. The Holy One has been advancing on me, as it were; and at every step I have conceded, I have drawn another line between us. In every concession there's been an escape clause: "Jesus, you can be my King unless . . ."

But whether I submit or not, Jesus stands alone at the helm of creation. Every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess, that He is Lord. Jesus is Lord. There's no way around it.

What if we all bowed our knees and confessed His name now?