Thursday, November 18, 2010

A little piece of my heart...


Have you ever wondered about that? You know, some say that those who readily give a piece of their mind are usually those who can not afford to spare any. I feel that way sometimes about my heart.

I don't know how to not get attached.
I don't know how to let things be business and not personal.
Instead of letting things roll off my back, I mull over and analyze them.
I give my heart away, and pieces of it have never been returned.

So, I began to wonder. I began to change some.

To withdraw.

My heart was shrinking and nothing replaced it. Sure, I ran to the Lord. I'd pour out my sorrows and complaints and he'd give me comfort. Then I would face the world again.

People.

Man, can we be stupid or what? Notice I put "we"... I know that I have been the source of another's hurt whether I have wanted to be or not.

But still, another piece of my heart would be gone.

Thankfully, God was gracious enough to give me people in my life who would exchange pieces of their heart with the piece of mine that I would fearfully extend, and my closest relationships are blossoming and growing tall and strong. It has given me strength to look beyond my own heart, my own gaping holes and realize that I am not alone.

Though apathy is still at times my greatest companion, it has become my greatest enemy. I wish the world to know that my heart is open, because it is filled with God's love and his love is limitless. Though I am human, I fail, stumble, and reach my limits rather quickly; he does not.

I am learning to give a piece of my heart even when I receive nothing from the one who takes, and takes again. I might not always do it happily, but at least now I know I can still do it. I can do all things through Christ. Maybe even have a regenerative heart!

So this is just my little piece from today. Take it. I hope you find a little love there.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Trapped



That's me.

Bound.

Trapped.

Shackled.

Imprisoned.

Sentenced for life.

Sounds overwhelming. Sounds sacrilegious, doesn't it?
I'm finding that it may be sacrilegious, but it's not exactly against God's Word. Even if you don't agree with me, I'm learning to be okay with that too. I might not be okay with it always. I might even delete this without posting. Or maybe post and then delete. I feel alone in my imprisonment sometimes. I watch as others are freer and freer to take part in the freedom of the Christian life and enjoy sharing raw truth about God, Christianity, growing with the saints, and just being truthful about things - pretty or ugly. And yet I see myself still only sharing the pretty.

I have flown on flights of transforming metamorphosis and crashed-landed on thorns of dismay and still I feel only worthy to share victories - because isn't the Christian life a victorious one?! Maybe it's religion itself that has led me astray.

Jesus was an enemy of religion. It got him crucified. I do not suffer such dangers, for I live in a land where I am free to believe what I want.

I live with a different type of social pressure, much less dangerous. I am married to a man who pastors a church. I'm expected to be religious. But aren't we all religious in some way? I religiously brush my teeth. I religiously take a bath. I go to church religiously. I straighten my hair religiously (for now). I go to work religiously. Hence, I am religious. So why has "religion" gotten such a bad rap?

Bound.

Trapped.

Shackled.

Imprisoned.

Sentenced for life.

That's what religion does to so many. But even for us, who are believers in Christ... It's a life sentence, this whole thing, you know? There's no getting out of it. I am God's, and his forever. In that way, I am bound with a tie that can not be broken. Yet that doesn't mean that the tugs of the flesh and the religion of man won't take it's toll on my psyche. But is it religion to which I am bound?

For so many years I thought that though I am saved by grace alone, only works will gain God's favor in my walk through life. When all along he's been wanting me just where I am. Talk about sacrilegious! That's exactly what Jesus was telling those around him while on earth. He wanted the unwanted. He helped the helpless. He covered the infractions of the lawless.

Oh yes, I am shackled. I am bound. I am trapped. I am sentenced for life and imprisoned. And though at times it seems that I'd love to break away from what the world perceives as my religious role of imprisonment, the only one to whom I am forever bound is the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords!

I am free to tell him that I don't like being a foreigner in a foreign land, when no one else wants to listen without judgment. I shout to him my cries of inadequacies and complaints of seeming despair. And he only wants more!

More of me, just where I am.

Despite the fact that I feel trapped and bound in this role that demands a "pastor's wife" performance to the world at large, I am still finding myself freely imprisoned in his love. His demands are doable. His yolk is easy. His burden is light. I am shackled to them, and they to me. And somehow in the most ironic of circumstances as only God can do, I am free to be myself because of this binding love.