Good morning!!!
We’re going to be in person today, with one big asterisk: it is still quite slippery in stone spots, come only if you’re comfortable doing so.
We considered a virtual day, but I figured I might as well do it virtually from the Bridge, with anyone who is comfortable coming.
10:30am service, in person and live streaming on YouTube, as usual.
Be careful, and maybe I’ll see you soon!!
Love. Peace.
It’s an interesting dilemma that I’m faced with, right now. I want to write and post, I want to connect with you, but at the same time, I want us all to be as far away from our computers and phones as we possibly can. But you know what? Sometimes, this is what we have, so we’ll take it with joy and gratitude.
We have a Christmas Eve service at 7pm on Christmas Eve.
Last night, I live-streamed the first part of the Christmas message (on YouTube, The Bridge Faith Community), and I even got to say, “smash that like button.” It was called 1,000 questions and 1 Mind. I’ve been leaning into the questions we might have about this season, this holiday, why we do what we do, and what it means. They’re the questions that we all have but might be a little too self-conscious to ask and/or explore. We sound uninformed to ask, “why?” and it sounds silly to ask why these trees are in our house, and why we chose December 25th. And, especially, it sounds bad to say, “why do I care about this?” doesn’t it? But, we’ve probably all thought all of these, at one time or another, so I’ll say them for us. We’ll answer those 1,000 questions, and you’re welcome – more than welcome, you’ll be accepted and you’ll be loved – to come and celebrate with us.
At the end of the message, I spent a few minutes talking about the idea that has been weighing heavily on my heart. If we are called to be peacemakers, then why are we choosing so often to not make peace? For whatever reason, we have some broken relationships, some unresolved issues, some places where we have not forgiven, not given grace, places where we have not loved. And these things are magnified around the holidays (especially this one.) One of the lessons we can learn from the incarnation, His coming to be “with us,” is the imperative for those of us who would follow Him, to also go first.
Go first? At what? Yes. Anything. Everything. Pick up a phone. Say sorry. Say I love you. Extend your hand, your arms, your heart.
There’s a tv commercial for Uber that makes me feel so silly and so soft. The idea is that a girl and her father left on terrible terms, we see clips of this conflict, hear his phone call to apologize (sort of), and the through thread is the girl riding in her Uber to go home. When they see each other, they embrace and I’m not sure what happens after that, because I’m crying by then. But who goes first, here? Both. He calls. She gets in a car to see him.
Where can we go first? Maybe we could look for spaces where we can bridge gaps? Maybe this Christmas, Jesus wouldn’t be the only one in pursuit of the ones He loves so desperately? (And just to be clear, “the ones He loves so desperately” are you and me and your neighbor and the cashiers at the Walmart…well, rather than type everybody I can think of, it’s everyone. Everyone, every single one, are the ones He loves so desperately. There’s no one that isn’t.)
So, I’ll see you tomorrow evening, unless you’re making peace or smashing all of the obstacles that divide. In that case, I’ll see you when you’re finished. Merry Christmas!
Last week, inclement weather pushed us to cancel the Sunday morning service. This is never a decision I particularly enjoy making. I’d really like it to be very, very clear, either a sunny day or a foot of snow. But an inch or 2 of snow is that blurry in between. Probably everybody’s ok, we will come if we’re comfortable, we won’t if we aren’t. But only probably… What if something terrible happens? Then what? That isn’t my fault, but it would absolutely feel like it forever. If someone falls and breaks a hip or a wrist, that is my broken hip or wrist. A car accident is my car accident.
Emotions aren’t always rational.
It was cold and windy and slippery, and we stayed home. Live-streaming is something we began, along with everybody else, during COVID. It is a fine supplement, but a terrible substitute. I don’t really like it. However, in ugly weather (or illness or vacation), it is a way to stay connected. On the stream, I said, “it just isn’t worth it,” and, as I was saying it, I didn’t like how it sounded at all. Meeting together is one of the most important practices, one of the most important parts of the week, and a vital component of our physical & mental (as well as spiritual) health, and too often, it falls into the category of “if we have time and nothing else to do.” Maybe saying “it isn’t worth it,” gives an impression I don’t intend. But when measured against our lives, we’ll stay home, right?
We could’ve met. The roads weren’t as dangerous as they could have been – the townships do a good job of cleaning up. This always leads me to second guess the decision, we totally should have met. Those kind of “should’s” stay with me for a while, as they might for everyone, on a loop in my head. But not this one, and I’ll tell you why.
Just before 12, I got a text from a very great friend, wondering if we could talk on the phone. I would have missed this text on any other Sunday, but this time, I was able to say yes. For the next hour, we poured our hearts out, both of us in various states of the pain & exhilaration of seeking and finding, falling and rising. We had both been searching for God in the previous weeks, and He had either delivered in spectacular fashion, or He had not yet (or at all). The conversation was 100% depth, we did not mention the snow or sports scores.
I didn’t like making the decision, and I missed the time with you, missed the hugs and crackling energy of our worship. It’s exponentially better giving messages to faces than the camera on my phone. We show up because we are a community, and this sort of beautifully close knit only happens in person, side by side, holding hands and intertwining lives.
This is a relatively small, momentary obstacle. Usually, any obstacles carry the question, “Why?” Why is this happening? This isn’t supposed to be like this, so why is it? And usually, we don’t get an immediate answer (if at all). But sometimes, we do. It’s that moment that is interesting to me. What do we do, then? When we can see this connection happen, in real time, in close enough proximity that we simply cannot miss, then what?
I was grateful to meet my friend in such a sacred space, but it didn’t take me long, upon reflection, that I began to think about trust. If there is purpose here, there is probably purpose everywhere, everywhen. Maybe when we can’t see it, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. Maybe we just can’t see it, for whatever reason. And maybe, when the obstacles or hiccups or nuisances or catastrophes happen (and they certainly will) instead of panic or control or worry, my first instinct could be to open my eyes and look around in anticipation of the movement of God. I wonder what I’ll find if I’m actually awake & aware.
So, no, I didn’t like it, but it was really worth it.
Good morning everyone!
I have some bad news. We’ve decided to cancel this morning’s service. I’ll miss you like crazy. If you have to be out, please be careful, it’s awfully cold and slippery.
We will still livestream the message from my home at 10:30am, this morning, so we can still stay connected (sort of) and continue our study of Ecclesiastes.
Next Sunday is the beginning of our Christmas celebration, please try to make every effort to be there Sunday and, especially, Christmas Eve (service at 7pm) – bring all of your friends to worship with us!!
Love. Peace.
chad.
As I’m sitting down to write this, to connect, to take a breath and focus, I’m thinking that isn’t an easy thing, to find any kind of time, is it? We have so many demands right now, on our hearts, homes, schedules, and bank accounts. And if you know me at all, you already know what I’m going to ask:
How do we decide what gets our attention? How do we prioritize what we prioritize? Or, maybe a better question is, are we deciding, or prioritizing, at all? Or just allowing our lives and this particularly busy season to run us over?
My youngest son is coming home from college for 2 weeks, before he gets on a plane to fly to Texas for his team to play basketball. My oldest son is taking some time off to spend at home with us, as is The Angel. We have family Christmases, shopping, dinners, and, well, all the things everybody has now. It’s awfully cold, which adds that uncomfortability, and apparently, the Christmas decorations in Pennsylvania aren’t colored lights and trees, but orange cones and construction signs.
The point is, if we don’t practice some level of mindfulness, this season easily runs us over, and then, it’s January and dark and we’re wondering where the time went. I always tell the people I get to marry, “the saddest thing I see is when the couple gets so overwhelmed in the day, thinking about anything & everything, and afterwards, they think about the day and don’t remember a bit of the ceremony where they got married.” And the more I think about it, that applies to so much more than a wedding day.
I’ll sit down on Saturday with The Angel’s family, we’ll open presents and eat terrific food with people we actually like. (What a blessing it is to like those we love, right?) Then, we’ll leave and not see some of those people again until next year. It’s a huge opportunity squandered to miss it, thinking about anything else, allowing any of the 1,000 things that are fighting for our attention to distract from those in front of us.
I considered taking a big break from these posts. But I won’t, because the connection with you is important. Hopefully, the many moments I take to write can lead to a few moments of peace for you to pause the spinning wheel to read.
That’s just one of the things I am choosing. Only you know what all is fighting for you. What are the items you’ll choose? They certainly won’t be the ones I choose, and that’s perfect. We’re very different, we have different families, schedules, concerns and possibilities. We just need to choose. Let’s not let one more day, one more moment, pass that we miss, simply because our bodies, minds, and hearts weren’t in the same place.
Now. One last thing I’d like to suggest. Every second, our bodies, minds, and hearts should be in the same place, but maybe we could spend the seconds of this month in the place where we are celebrating the birth of a God Who would save us all. Maybe we could spend these seconds in gratitude. (And I say that knowing some of us have so much sadness, and emptiness that the season magnifies – what I have learned is that the sweetest gifts we are given are each other to hold and cry with, and often times that is all we get, and it will have to be enough.) Maybe we could turn our attention away from the presents under the trees and toward the presence we give freely to each other. And most of all, toward His presence, His love, in our lives, our relationships, and our world.
In this Sunday’s service, we discussed a few thoughts from theologians, and one of them had this short sentence: “We rejoice in the meaning God has given us with this life on earth.”
It was interesting to find this commentary regarding a book of the Bible, where the primary refrain is, “Meaningless!” Everything the writer mentions is all meaningless. Everywhere he looks is meaningless. Each of the paths we travel in our lives is always meaningless. Then why, in the middle of all of this despair, can our study lead us to “rejoice in the meaning God has given us?”
Of course, the Teacher (Solomon) doesn’t really think all of life is meaningless. His work is designed to lead us exactly here. So, here we are, and that leaves us wondering about the meaning in our lives. Do we rejoice in the beauty and crackling energy in & around our lives? And, if we’re not, why?
Maybe it’s because we’re distracted and sleepwalking through our lives, right? Maybe we don’t take a second to recognize this meaning/purpose, and be grateful in it. Maybe our lives seem disjointed and random, like they’re happening to us, instead of actually living them with intention and passion. Maybe maybe maybe.
I could continue to list possible reasons to explain our restlessness, our disconnect, but there sure isn’t a one size fits all. They’re as different as we are, mine isn’t yours isn’t The Angel’s.
We each have a story to our lives, inside of the BIG Story. It’s this story that gives us our purpose and/or meaning. And as coincidence would have it, in one of the weekly mass emails I receive, Mark Manson writes, “When people ask, “What is my life purpose?” What they’re actually asking without realizing it is: “How can I use my time in a way that feels meaningful.” … You don’t find your purpose. You build your purpose, experiment by experiment, mistake by mistake.” Then, he asks, “What do you spend your time on that feels meaningful? How can you do more if it?”
What do you think of that? Do we build our purpose? And what does that say about our passivity? What about if we’re waiting for our purpose to knock down the doors of our lives and sit down in the middle of the room, demanding to be addressed? Maybe it isn’t coming.
Yes, God gives each of us meaning – our lives are inherently meaningful. We are unbelievably important, and we don’t have to look for evidence – our existence, the fact that He has created us in, by, and for love, is proof enough. But from there…
How are we spending our time? If our purpose is something that must be built, how are we doing with that??
This email sent me down a new, different, unexpected path, but it’s certainly related. Maybe our joy comes from the pieces of our lives, chosen intentionally, and the way we order them, under Divine guidance. When you spend your time meaningfully, there is a natural joy in that, isn’t there? Maybe all of this, maybe all of creation, is inviting us into that, saying, “do more of that,” and asking us to really enjoy it.
I usually don’t end posts like this, but I am truly asking you, “what is that thing for you?” Tell me – call, email, text, comment, etc – just tell me. Nothing in this life was meant to be done alone (it is “not good”), and this is no different. Maybe meaning and purpose is something that is meant to be pursued and discovered (revealed?) in some dynamic combination of alone & together. So, how about we try that?
I read a New Testament passage and an Old Testament passage every day. It’s study, but not really specifically for any sermons, mostly just for me. Sometimes, it turns into something more. Other times, I just copy verses in my notebook and maybe write any thoughts I might have on them. I’m in 1 Corinthians and Isaiah, now.
Today, Isaiah 61:1-2 read, “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, He has appointed me to bring Good News to the poor, comfort the broken-hearted…announce that the captives will be released, the prisoners will be freed, and the blind will see…He has sent me to tell those who mourn that the time of the Lord’s favor has come.“
This sounds familiar because it appears again in Luke 4, where Jesus (at the beginning of His earthly ministry) goes into a Synagogue, unrolls a scroll, and reads this passage. It’s a goosebumps moment. Imagine if you were there, and this is happening in front of you, that a man comes as a teacher, and reads from a book you have known, about prophesies you have been waiting to see fulfilled, and makes the “me” about Himself. We have the benefit of hindsight, we know what is happening, what will happen, and most importantly, who He is. But imagine if we didn’t. Imagine if it was only a possibility. Could this be the One we’ve been waiting for?
Anyway, I love these kinds of moments. But today, I’m seeing this passage in a new way, connected to the path we’ve been on.
Sunday, we talked about 1 Corinthians 13 (incidentally, not where I am currently in 1 Corinthians – I’ll get there soon) as a statement on what it looks like to live & move through our lives as Jesus followers, in love (patiently, kindly, etc). This is a new branch of the same tree to be included in our self-examination.
We are called to bring the Good News – are we? To comfort the brokenhearted – are we? To announce that the captives will be released, the prisoners will be freed, that the blind will see – are we? To testify that the day of the Lord’s favor has come – are we? We are to do all of these with our hearts and bodies, as well as our mouths.
So, I know this is a 2nd post in as many days, but living an awake/aware existence today, here & now, leaves us in a peculiar position. We are saddened, broken daily with the behavior of our brothers and sisters, as well as our own. We feel powerless to change. And it is too easy to get caught up in this downward spiral of vitriol and violence. We need a way out, light in this increasingly dark tunnel. How can we do this? How can we find beauty and truth, even in this? How can we BE that beauty and truth, even in this?
Am I loving? Am I choosing to act like a walking, talking, breathing 1 Corinthians 13? (Now, if I say no to that, then there are different questions, I suppose. Or not. Maybe we are just deciding to use the tools of the enemy to fight back, following the same patterns that created such a mess. As King said, “Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”)
We can choose to love each other, no matter what. (And it’s the “no matter what” that is such a high, treacherous mountain to climb.)
And we can choose to bring the Good News, the one true Gospel of Jesus Christ, with every thought, word, and deed. Are our words (and posts) announcing freedom and sight? Are we pointing to the life He gives?
I sat in the stands last night at a basketball game at Lycoming college, thinking about everything that was happening. The boys (young men) using the gifts they have been divinely bestowed, the coaches teaching them, the service of the referees, and those of us in the bleachers all together in one giant mixing bowl. Was all of it loving? Was all of it praise, worship? Of course not…
But some of it was. And that’s what’s so cool and hopeful. We can change our present (there isn’t any changing our future – the tomb was empty and God wins), we can choose a new path. It just takes our submission. It just takes us taking our thoughts and actions and bringing them into (or at least closer to) His will. We can love, and we can drive out this hate. All it takes is everything, and it starts right now.
[That’s the end of the post, but Thursday is Thanksgiving and I wanted to wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving. I am truly grateful for you, in every way. I’m grateful you read these posts. I’m grateful to walk alongside of you, to build my pyramid scheme of love with you. – And one last thing, I said, “all it takes is everything,” right? I am fully grateful that the “everything” we are (and have) is from His strong, loving hands.
Ok, 1 last, last thing: When I think about His grace and mercy on my life, I think of my 2nd favorite children’s book, “Horton Hatches The Egg,” and how often the last line appears to have been written specifically for me. “And they sent him home happy, 100%” Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.]
I received a new submission to this blog, and I’ll share it in a minute (with my thoughts).
But first, I do want to tell you that I am still reeling, still taken apart by Sunday’s message on 1 Corinthians, chapter 13: the love chapter. The simple fact that it is a choice, a decision we consciously make, is overwhelming. When I act in an unloving way (impatient, unkind, easily angered, keeping score/record of wrongs, etc), for whatever reason, it is a rejection of Jesus’ role in my life, heart, hands, feet & behavior. – reading over that paragraph, it sounds jumbled and full of side comments, paths & parentheses. I’m not cleaning it up, because that’s exactly how I feel.
Now, the submission (from an anonymous author):
“Lee and Annette Woofenden indicate the possibility that a happily married couple, under certain conditions may be reunited in Paradise. In a message entitled, “Loving Jesus More Than Life” by John Piper, dated November 23, 2015, he refers to Matthew 10:37 “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me” and “Whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.”
If our desire to enter Heaven is based on wanting to be reunited with a happily married spouse and that desire exceeds waning to enjoy the love of Jesus, we risk losing the thing we desire due to incorrect priority.
Jesus is aware of our love for a spouse. If we love Jesus foremost, He will provide a love relationship for a spouse or parent or child.”
I don’t know if you remember, a few months ago, we received another submission that was posted (September 22, 2025, “Til Death?”) on a similar subject. This one has a slightly different tone.
“Till Death?” details the unselfish, beautiful, covenantal marriage relationship that could (and that’s all we really have in our limited knowledge, isn’t it? a “could.”) endure forever and ever in paradise. Here, the thoughtful writer explores the “risk” of an “incorrect priority.” It is as if he goes down a path, then, satisfied, wonders if the path is the right path, ultimately deciding that whatever the path, the love of Jesus must be “foremost.” I don’t know, so this is only my imagination, but it seems like a person wrestling with the Scriptures and his/her place in them.
We can (and often do) read the Bible and, if it doesn’t agree with our opinions, we toss it aside. We want the Bible to submit to our will, instead of the other way around. Seemingly, this person isn’t content to leave a thread of faith, and his heart for God, unexplored. And if his faith & heart don’t line up, then he/she will take any level of demolition and reconstruction to make sure it does. It’s a beautiful picture of a marriage to a spouse, and even more so of a marriage to His/Her Creator/Savior.
I now see that’s what is ravaging me about this week’s love message. I don’t always want to act in a loving way. I want to be impatient, I want you to know what you did wrong and apologize. When you hurt me like this, I want you to change. I like the adrenaline of anger. I really, really like to be right. I lose hope. And I can give you a million reasons why, and for at least a hundred of them, you’d agree with me. You’d think I am justified in my un-love.
And this beautiful Bible… And the words, life, death, resurrection, and heart of Jesus, to all of my well-thought arguments, listens patiently, nodding along, validates my feelings, maybe He weeps at my broken heart & spirit (just like He did for Mary & Martha), but He hears me, really hears me, and then I imagine He looks me straight in the eyes HE created for me, and softly, tenderly, says, “Yeah, about that. You know how much I love you, but I don’t care about that at all. You’re going to love them anyway.”
He knows I will. I will choose Him, choose love. So I try. I mean, I will, eventually (because there is only “do or do not, there is no try”).
We don’t get it right today, or all the time, we just keep showing up – to Him, to each other, to ourselves. And as our anonymous author shows us, if we can just not give up, He leads us to the right answers.
One day last week, at a college basketball game, the Angel and I watched our boy play. He played very well; unselfish, aggressive and with an intensity that may have been surprising if you had not watched his commitment over the past several years, alone in the gym, in the driveway, or outside on the local courts before the sun came up. This was awesome, but it was not the best part of our evening. We were also relayed stories of how he is fitting in, as a great teammate, and an “even better human.” Then, after the game, we walked to our car with him, his girlfriend, and his best friend. Once we were on the road (following a really terrible route from the GPS), I texted how beautiful I thought this circle of friends was, that he’s creating….How beautiful this life was, that he’s creating.
The next day, the Angel and I attended our older son’s workshop for a family dinner party. We sat, barely getting time to eat, as we were flooded with stories of who our boy is. He’s kind, respectful, funny, strong, and sweet. When we got home, I told him how proud of him I was, about this man he’s becoming, this life that he is creating.
You see, he has always been this person. He has always been kind, respectful, funny, strong and sweet. He’s one of the best I’ve ever had the privilege to know, how much more to live with him and watch him every day. My prayer has always been that he fully step into who he is, every part of himself, authentically, and let that out, just open himself and get it all over everyone. It has been my prayer for his brother, too.
The boys we know so well have not always been public. To use a phrase from the Bible, they have sometimes hidden their blinding light under hesitant buckets. We want the world to experience the blessings we have.
It’s hard, probably impossible, to fathom Who God is – His patience, forgiveness, grace, and love. Sometimes, all we have is our own experience. And this is sort of how I imagine God feels, when we put on our authentic selves and start to become all of who He has created us to be.
My boys are different, sometimes wildly so, in their personalities, desires, ambitions, talents and gifts. Who they are growing into are not clones of each other, there aren’t molds they comfortably fit. It’s like that with us, too. You are not me. We are not carbon copies of anyone else. (We are all equal, in Him. He loves us all the same, as sons and daughters. But loving us the same is not the same as making us the same.) I love Morrissey and Fight Club, and you love… well, that’s a bad example, we all love Morrissey and Fight Club, but you get the point. The Angel likes hikes and I like to lift weights, she likes mashed potatoes and I like anything but mashed potatoes. None of us are alike, and that is absolutely the design. We are all the way we are, for a purpose.
And when we start to step into that purpose, to take these new wings that we’ve always had out for a test flight, I think Our Creator rejoices. I think He says, “YES, finally!! Wait until this world gets a taste of (Cathy or Diane or Trish or Josh or whoever, anyone, everyone)!” It’s like He’s painted a masterpiece and just can’t wait for us to remove the curtain, so that everybody can see it.
In this scenario I imagine, you are the masterpiece. So am I, and so is your neighbor and your enemy.
Of course, it’s a flawed analogy. God is not like us. He’s waaaayyyy better, better than we could possibly dream, by miles and miles, by infinity. He is the One that gave us these wings, He wants us to use them. Sometimes, we don’t. Sometimes, we hide. Sometimes, we pretend to be someone else. Sometimes, we don’t know who we are, we don’t know we have these magnificent wings.
And, in my limited human perspective, I imagine that when he sees us find them and stretch them out, it’s a lot like how I felt last week.
I behaved abysmally this morning. Now, what exactly happened isn’t important, but that it happened is. Poor behavior mostly all comes from the same place, and I am no different. I read a book that suggested that those times when we get ourselves into trouble stem from a clever acronym of emotional states: Hungry, Angry, Lonely, And T (I don’t remember what the T stands for…Tired!! That’s it!). HALT: Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. I am currently a combination of all of those, and the book used its clever acronym to ask us to halt, instead of making a mess. I did not halt; I made a mess.
[I hesitate to write this post, because it’s very possible to read these posts and miss the meaning. I am not fishing for encouragement, do not need cheering up. This is different from reading a post written by someone you don’t know personally. You are beautiful, you deeply care for me, and may feel concern. I am ok. I would reach out, if that were not the case. This is not simply an overshare, I do have a specific reason for writing, and oversharing just provides the context;) You’ll see why I am ok, at the very end. Now.]
I do not behave abysmally very often, anymore. Honestly, this morning was wildly out of character, surprising me and the other involved parties. It is not a lifestyle, I didn’t recognize myself at all. It was an embarrassing momentary catastrophe, and will have virtually no long-them effects (except in my own head & heart).
That’s not an excuse – I have no excuses, and don’t need any. But it is important, because how we respond to ourselves and our actions depends on if it is a sin, or a lifestyle of sin. Did we fall in a hole, or are we choosing to jump in that hole and live there? I fell. Now what?
Sometimes, we encounter mirrors that contain an important question about our beliefs and values. We say we believe these things, do we really? Do I?
If you were to relay the same story to me, if our roles were completely reversed, I would tell you how loved you are. I would not judge, I would acknowledge the punishment you had already inflicted on yourself, recognize your contrite repentance, immediately forgive, and encourage you to give you a break and move forward. I would do all of these things, because I whole-heartedly believe Romans 8, that there’s no condemnation in Christ Jesus, that God takes our sins as far as the east is from the west, and remembers them no more. I think He accepts our repentance with joy, seeing growth and a heart that wants to beat for Him (even if it sometimes can’t help to beat for itself, with disastrous consequences.) And I think He asks us to love each other in the same way. I would recognize the roots (the HALT situation) and try to address those, together.
I believe those same truths apply to me, too. That is my theology. And when I come upon this mirror of conviction that asks if my theology is my application, is my practice, I wonder what my answer is. Do I? And do I so much that I would continue to work to undo an entire lifetime whipping myself with my self-loathing. When faced with cracks in my character, can I have grace for me, too? Are they actually cracks, at all? Can I move forward as a new creation, forgiven from my human fragility, and made holy, in Him?
The mess I made took about 5 minutes, beginning to end, but it only took 3 seconds to be sorry about it. Right at the start. The rest of the 5 minutes was an apology and explanation, an attempt to halt, call timeout and come back in to shore, back home.
The lie says that the mess is me, and the rest of my whole life is the illusion, a construct that was bound to fall at some point, that I could only fake for so long, and the real me would eventually emerge. The truth is that these holes we all fall in, from time to time, do not change our identity. I am not perfect, I was never supposed to be. I am a work in progress, He is transforming me every moment, every day.
It’s sometime an attack to our ego to admit that we are still becoming, that we have not arrived, that we don’t have it all perfectly together. But, attack or not, it’s true. So now what? What do we do?
I knew what I would do, and as I ran to Him by opening my Bible, I read a short line on Hezekiah in the book of Isaiah. A foreign power threatened him and his people, and he was afraid. (That was the lie he heard, all lies aren’t the same for each of us, not even the same for ourselves, at different times.) He freaked out, and immediately ran into the Temple in prayer. Me, too. I freaked out, and ran right into His arms, hoping He’d be merciful and tell me the Truth, about this, about me, and in that, most importantly, about Himself. I found just what Hezekiah did, that He is very willing to do that, over and over again.
I guess I’m not supposed to tell you any of this, I’m supposed to carefully cultivate a bulletproof image. Of course, I don’t struggle, don’t fall in any holes, am never hungry, angry, lonely, or tired. But what I could never get through my thick head is that, if I pretend to actually be that ridiculously dishonest image, I am saying it’s just you. I would be building false walls and blasphemous hierarchies.
We are all on this journey, to Him, WITH Him. Of course, we’re at different places. Someone is always further along. We’re just walking each other home. And I think we all have these holes, questions, and mirrors. It’s what we do when we face them that matters, that shows where our faith is, and if what we say is really what we believe. Probably, living a life of faith is just a series of steps closer to answering that question with a “yes.”
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