I was journaling the other day, and as I wrote, I felt that God wanted to answer me in my writing. So, I began a conversation, maybe with God, or perhaps just with my own thoughts portraying my idea of Him on the page. Whatever the case, this was the interaction we shared, beginning with the following verse:
God (Micah 6:3): "What have I done to you? How have I burdened you?"
Me: Rules. All of these weighty thoughts of what should I do, what's the right thing to do, is this right or wrong, GUILT.
God: None of that is me. Where is your heart, Daniel?
Me: Where? Uh...is it not with you?
God: You have it right now.
Me: Why do I have it? We both know I can't take good care of it. I don't think. I mean, we see how that's worked out so far. . . . How do you care for a heart?
God: Let it beat.
Me: I'm not?
God: Are you?
Me: I'm not. I'm squeezing. Clutching. Surpressing.
God: Hearts burst that way. Blood must flow freely.
Me: I plug up my veins, don't I? I stuff my heart in a too-small box. How many times have I dropped it, now? What do I do?
God: Give it to me. Let me unwrap it.
Me: Like a Christmas present.
God: A gift. Gifts aren't meant to stay in boxes. They're to be opened and enjoyed.
Me: Take my heart, Jesus! Take care of it! I can't love hearts right. I only know how to box them up.
God: Boxed hearts strain to beat. Free hearts dance to the beat. Free your heart. Boxes are so unnatural, anyway. I don't make boxes.
Me: So what should hearts go in?
God: My hands.
Me: Care for my heart, Jesus, and teach me how to care for it, too.
God: Let it beat.
Me: How?
God: Stop hoarding it away. Freely you have received. Freely give. Nothing held back. Start here, with me. Give it all to me. Otherwise, you can't give. A heart works only in wholeness. Try and cut off parts, you bleed everywhere, and it is drained of life. Wholly give it to me, and I am free to hold it freely so that, in my hands, it can beat freely, give freely, and love freely. You will not know your heart, nor will you know anyone else's, nor will they know yours, nor will you know mine, until you uncover your heart. Give it up.
Me: How do I know you won't break it?
God: I break nothing that I do not mend whole. Some things cannot be whole unless they are first broken more. I am not about destroying your heart--not your dreams, your desires, your hopes, or your longings. I am about redeeming and fulfilling. Wholeness is what you want. There is no wholeness apart from me. Come to me.
Me: But...
God: Trust me. I love you.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Journey to the Center
I'm beginning to see just how much we as Christians pay so much attention to tidying up ourselves on the outside. But we spend so much time trying to look good on the outside, we end up as shells of who we really want to be and were made to be. How many of us spend years living outside lives--existing outside of ourselves, refusing to admit what's going on inside? And then we wonder why we can't find God.
The reason is because God doesn't reside on the outside of a person. When you begin a relationship with Christ, He enters into the core of your being. If you never go there, you won't ever really meet with Him, because He isn't concerned about how well it looks like you're holding things together on the outside. His focus is True Internal Reformation of the Soul. He hopes to find you there, too, but He doesn't force any changes. You have to choose them. Otherwise, your heart just gets stale, then moldy, then unbearably putrid; eventually, you'll end up facing what's in there one way or another. It's much better if you choose to face it.
I'm not saying all this to prove that I'm an expert. Actually, I'm saying it because I've just discovered it. I, myself, have ignored my heart and the things going on inside for awhile. And I finally have come to the point where I'm ready to bring all of the messiness to Jesus--or let Jesus in to all the messiness (however it works). He says He wants to meet me there, inside, in my center. He wants to bring me; to take me into my heart--into all the pain and the bitterness and the sin and filth and decay. He wants to show me the Good He's placed there, the Truth, the Meaning. He wants to dig through all the chaos and disorder and uncover something beautiful and brilliant and strong that's been buried underneath:
Jesus won't purify the heart without invitation, however. And it's not a pretty process. Already, as I make my way inside, into the core of my life, I have uncovered terrible fears, horrors of pain, and some things I didn't even know were there. And I've just begun. But I'm not going into all of this without Him. It's just plain discouraging if you do. And though it's overwhelming either way, with Christ, as you plunge into the dangerous darkness of this cavern, Light makes its way inside. Healing can start. Only with Jesus can you find the treasure buried inside of you, because He's the only One who can bring it out of you. He put it there, but it was buried over time by all the mis-truths and lies and destructive forces that have seeped in--or have been let in.
What would it be like if we stopped living externally? What if we actually went inside, where Jesus is? He won't meet us on the surface. Asking Him to is like asking a musician to make a song with only one note, or an author to write a book using 3 letters. He goes much deeper than the shallows we wade in--the weight of His glory is too heavy for false externity. And if we ever want to really know Him, know ourselves, and know Life, we have to go with Him, sink with Him, into the crushing depths, wherein our hollow shells collapse and we find ourselves finally free.
He is Spirit.
We are spirit.
To live on the outside is to deny ourselves the reality of both.
More concisely, to live on the outside is to deny ourselves--what He has made.
But let's be frank about this:
you and I both know that
The reason is because God doesn't reside on the outside of a person. When you begin a relationship with Christ, He enters into the core of your being. If you never go there, you won't ever really meet with Him, because He isn't concerned about how well it looks like you're holding things together on the outside. His focus is True Internal Reformation of the Soul. He hopes to find you there, too, but He doesn't force any changes. You have to choose them. Otherwise, your heart just gets stale, then moldy, then unbearably putrid; eventually, you'll end up facing what's in there one way or another. It's much better if you choose to face it.
I'm not saying all this to prove that I'm an expert. Actually, I'm saying it because I've just discovered it. I, myself, have ignored my heart and the things going on inside for awhile. And I finally have come to the point where I'm ready to bring all of the messiness to Jesus--or let Jesus in to all the messiness (however it works). He says He wants to meet me there, inside, in my center. He wants to bring me; to take me into my heart--into all the pain and the bitterness and the sin and filth and decay. He wants to show me the Good He's placed there, the Truth, the Meaning. He wants to dig through all the chaos and disorder and uncover something beautiful and brilliant and strong that's been buried underneath:
Me.
Jesus won't purify the heart without invitation, however. And it's not a pretty process. Already, as I make my way inside, into the core of my life, I have uncovered terrible fears, horrors of pain, and some things I didn't even know were there. And I've just begun. But I'm not going into all of this without Him. It's just plain discouraging if you do. And though it's overwhelming either way, with Christ, as you plunge into the dangerous darkness of this cavern, Light makes its way inside. Healing can start. Only with Jesus can you find the treasure buried inside of you, because He's the only One who can bring it out of you. He put it there, but it was buried over time by all the mis-truths and lies and destructive forces that have seeped in--or have been let in.
What would it be like if we stopped living externally? What if we actually went inside, where Jesus is? He won't meet us on the surface. Asking Him to is like asking a musician to make a song with only one note, or an author to write a book using 3 letters. He goes much deeper than the shallows we wade in--the weight of His glory is too heavy for false externity. And if we ever want to really know Him, know ourselves, and know Life, we have to go with Him, sink with Him, into the crushing depths, wherein our hollow shells collapse and we find ourselves finally free.
He is Spirit.
We are spirit.
To live on the outside is to deny ourselves the reality of both.
More concisely, to live on the outside is to deny ourselves--what He has made.
But let's be frank about this:
you and I both know that
to live on the outside
isn't really living
at all.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
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