Psalm 69

I had never really thought about it until this last week, when someone called me out on it and asked that I examine my heart about this, but I've realized something about the journey that I've been on: I am frustrated not with the situation, but with God.

I am angry with God.

Angry and frustrated at what just doesn't seem to be fair. Why me, God? Why have you allowed me to suffer this way for so long? And when is it going to be enough? I've done ABC and not done XYZ - what more do you want? There is a part of my heart that screams at heaven and shakes its fist in anger. I hate this. And I hate you for letting it go on so long. You say you love me but you continue to let me suffer. What have I done wrong?

And even as I delve deeper into that anger and take it to Him in honesty, there is a parallel sense of brokenness and raw emotion coming out of this that I don't know how to process. I'm struck more deeply than ever before in my life by the significance of the cross, humbled and shamed by its power and my undeserved state. I'm desperate for a way out, for redemption, and even as my heart screams in anger, it also screams in agony and pleads for deliverance.

Today I absolutely lost it in the middle of worship at church. Psalm 69 was the catalyst.

Help me God
For the water's come up to my neck

I sink down
I cannot stand without

I've gone blind
while waiting for Your voice

Tears run down
My lungs have had enough

Hear, hear me now
Don't hide Your face from me
now
Hear, hear me out
Don't hide Your face from me
now

It struck to the core of a heart hardened by anger and frustration like a hot knife through butter. I almost ended up on the floor, clinging to and sobbing into the back of the chair in front of me.

It's because even through everything - all the anger, all the frustration, all the pride, all the rebellion - there is still a scared little boy who just wants to call out to his Father for help. He cries out in fear and desperation, not confident that his Father will even answer him, terrified of His wrath but desperately in need of mercy and rescue. Love, the boy believes, must be earned - and it is fragile, easily shattered. And it's still not enough to make the boy let go of the thing he wants even more than his Father's smile.

And that is why the cross is so powerful.

Because the truth is that Jesus' love isn't fragile and it isn't easily shattered. And even as I come to Him like a child, kicking and screaming and refusing to let go of my own picture of redemption - refusing to surrender the deepest places - He still holds me securely in His arms and whispers to me until I calm down, even as I try to escape. Like a father restraining a child throwing a tantrum, he refuses to let me have it my way.

I've got you. Too long have you fought me. Too long have you held on to your own poorly conceived notion of redemption and transformation. Too long have you been content making mudpies in a slum. I have plans, and My perfect will shall be done. And I'll whisper as long as it takes.

You know what Jesus? You're pretty friggin' awesome.

Evidence of God's grace: knowing you're being used by Him less than an hour after asking Him to use you where you're at.

That's the God I serve.

Trial

It's timely and providential that we hit this series at Mars Hill, Trial, at this current period in my life. I am in a trial. I wasn't when we started the series a couple of months ago, but I sure am now.

Life is just weighty right now. I can't explain everything making it up because it's just too big to really capture it all, but I've felt this enormous weight just hanging over my heart during the past month. Every day seems excruciating and every night is lonely. I have so much time to myself these days that I am left alone with my thoughts and the issues on my heart, most of which are difficult to examine. I think God has deliberately removed a lot of old comforts from my life, things I used to spend time on in order to distract myself from how miserable I would be if I were alone.

But lately there's nowhere to hide and I'm understanding what a pastor told me a few months ago - that processing all of this, working through all these issues, would be the most difficult thing I'd ever done. That it would hurt beyond anything I'd been through. I think I'm there. And he was right - it's like having a slow burning fire inside you that you can't snuff out because you can't reach it; it just slowly scorches you from the inside out.

And all I want is comfort and relief; but Jesus apparently has other plans in mind. He's here in the suffering, yes; I see His face through the pain and He's here in the storm. But he has something larger in mind than just my comfort. He's after my sanctification through this. Transformation.

Jesus, help me suffer well. My will is for comfort and release; but not my will - Your will be done in this storm. Command the waves, let them wash over the edges of my boat if need be; let the wind howl; let the rain fall. Let me only be safe in Your arms and in the promise of Your regeneration of this sickly heart. If it isn't for me to know what Your purposes here are - let me only make much of You while the storm rages.

Sabbath

I desperately need some time to sabbath and recharge this weekend. I'm running on an empty tank in just about every area - personally, spiritually, relationally, and work-wise. I'm just totally spent. It's been like this for a while and I can't seem to get back to normal.

Don't Look Back

"The turning of the Israelites hearts toward Egypt at Mount Sinai was merely the culmination of many longing looks over their shoulders that began almost the day they left Egypt."
-Redemption

We look at the Israelites' impatience for Moses to come down from Mount Sinai and their subsequent fashioning of their own idol as hilariously idiotic. How could they be so stupid as to melt down all their gold and make a cow out of it, then fall down in worship before it? Surely we are not so foolish.

But oh, we are. And I am.

Every impure thought that I relish and then allow to linger before finally brushing off; every moment spent thinking about how badly I want the deep, sinful longings of my heart to be fulfilled; every "second look" I allow myself - these are the glances I throw over my shoulder at my Egypt. They are not innocent. They are not okay. And they are not secrets to Him.

They are the chains that hold me here. And I am a fool to think that life would be better if I went back to Egypt. I am so pathetically content making mudpies in my slum that I cannot fathom the idea of making sandcastles on the ocean shore. Mudpies are safe - sandcastles are large, imposing, and risky.

Leaving Egypt is risky. Leaving Egypt is difficult. And leaving Egypt scares the living hell out of me.

But will I surrender these chains in repentance? Will I trust Jesus to part the seas that stand before me as the Enemy bears down in the distance? Will I then descend to the dark ocean floor and trust that He will keep the mighty waters at bay? And once on the other side, safe from my pursuer, will I trust Him to provide just enough, each day, to make it through? Or will I continue to throw glances over my shoulder at the very bondage that my gracious Redeemer is trying to save me from?

He has promised redemption, renewal, and recreation. So why am I still so preoccupied with slavery, stagnation, and death? In the stillness every night I can hear Him calling.

Run. Throw off your chains, trust me, keep your eyes on me, and run. Don't look back.

Just run.

Barter for Grace

Oh Jesus - how can you possibly forgive me for what I've done? Even after years of knowing you, years of chasing after you and years of stumbles along the way - how can I still not grasp the concept of grace? Somehow I always come crawling back to you with my dirty rags, holding up worthless treasures, trying to barter for your grace in futility. Futile because I don't have to barter.

How can you give this grace to me for nothing? Don't you understand what I've done?

Yet you do understand.

And that's why I don't understand your grace.

Start a War

Are you in a war with sin or a war against God? Think carefully.

My own conviction recently is that I have gone to war against God rather than going to war against my sin. I've allowed my heart to be taken captive by sinful desires rather than fighting for the deeper, more fulfilling desires that He has planted there. Not only have I allowed it to be taken captive - sometimes I've thrown it straight into sin without a thought.

The ensuing numbness is the worst part. I don't think that it's a coincidence that numbness is a side effect of death and death is the wages of sin.

My selfishness is truly astounding. Truly.

I fail to realize most days that I am born into a war. The world is at war, and our hearts are both the battlefield and the prize. Sometimes we ignore the war. Sometimes we call a cease fire for the sake of creating a false peace. And sometimes we need to start a war and break the cease fire. Rock our own boat.

It's time to start a war.