On being, and not being.

On being and not being.

Sometimes I get so frustrated at this girl, looking like me only less graceful than I should think I ought to be, and more awkward (than I like to think I am..) and I become angry. I become angry because she’s doing it all wrong, and what’s worse, she has taken focus away from Him and distracted my vision and even my thoughts. Who does she think she is? Blasted girl.

I get so mad that I walk right up to her and with pent up aggression and I push her, two hands and angry brow, right on out of my way. There! Now I can see Him clearly and all is right with the world.

Wrong.

In that funny rebuke-style fashion (funny in the ‘oh, I should have known much better than that’ sort of way) Jesus looks disappointed in what I’ve done, sad even, as if He were being told He’d have be crucified again for the 89023438^th time. And as if to say with His eyes, “Why would you do that to my friend?” Like I had just lay my hands on Him and done the very deed to Jesus Himself. And he walked up to the girl and gave her His Hand, pulled her up and dusted her off. He lead her back to where she was standing and let her keep watching Him.

This is what blew my mind.

He didn’t leave me standing there to watch her. He came to me and pulled me forward sort of into the girl like she were a hologram and so was I, but when we met, we became real. And then He said, “This is the girl I redeemed. And this is the girl I will keep redeeming.”

So that girl, the one who I was, is redeemed and beautiful and I cannot leave her behind. I cannot be someone I’m not or never was. She is a part of me, only now she's new and better. So we are the same. Only I have to learn to live life now with her and with me. Awkward, but loved; Broken but new.

scales and truths

If you have still have scales in your eyes, I must look pretty distorted and strange. I don't like appearing that way, but hey, I don't suppose Jesus likes what He's become to Americans (among others) either. What does life look like through scale-covered vision? I remember. I used to have them too. Doesn't look too clear, or bright. The bright that I saw was some shade of grey, maybe black. I can't be certain. I don't care. I'll help you take them out if you want.

Scales are meant for snakes but you readily accept them as your own. What's that? You can't see them? Oh. I wonder why. You need a new frame of reference.

Strange, you may say, to put all my hope in a God I've never seen, and a man who lived 2,000 years ago whom even the demons called The Christ. What's that you say? You don't believe demons exist? Oh. Do you believe the Bible is Truth? Scales. They must be big ones. Or maybe they look like rose-colored glass. I suppose the world looks a lot prettier without Truth. Yes, a lot prettier; only a lie.

How is it that the demons knew, but His very own people couldn't get out of their own way to see. How is it that His people believed in demon-posession but didn't believe in a God who would send a Savior to set them free. Scales, I suppose. Or something like that.

Truths I never knew I could believe in:

1. When I pray, God listens.

2. God talks back when I get out of my own way long enough to HEAR.

3. We were created to worship God. I mean face-to-floor, praise-the-Savior worship.

4. God knows exactly who I am, and He loves me anyway.

5. The same power that rose Jesus from death after 3 days dwells in me, and through Him, that same power exists today.

6. I can use that power to glorify it's Creator.

7. I have a big responsibility.

This is the deal. I live this life for Jesus Christ, not because I'm weak and need a feel-good friend to pick me up. It doesn't feel good all the time to live for someone else, trust me. But this is not about me. Or you. Don't you see? See for his namesake. It never was. But I've never been so alive, never known such a joy.

I want so badly to be like Jesus. To hear God say, 'This is my beloved daughter, in whom I am well-pleased'. And I look at Jesus so I can be like him.

I see it like this.

I sink a lot, lose faith in myself, but I can walk on water, too. The reason why I start to sink? It looks sort of like this. I watch Him in marvel, standing on that water, He's beautiful and perfect, and He knows the Love of the Father. But then this girl who looks a whole lot like me walks up, wobbly and weird. She stands right in between Jesus and me. We're still on the water. And she tries to do what He's doing but she looks awkward and silly. And I keep staring at her, pick out everything she's doing wrong until I start telling myself that she's not worthy to stand there on that water with Jesus, because really, she's not. The difference is, He tells me I am. And when she starts to sink, my eyes follow her down instead of remaining on the perfect One. And down I go. And I end up getting in my own way. And the ashes weigh more than the beauty, so I sink with her; "You of little faith, why did you doubt?"

But He's still there in front of me, waiting, saying follow me. He'll never leave me alone.

You may call me a dreamer. Maybe I am. But this is reality.