Some days I am thankful that He knows my heart and thoughts, when I don't have the words to express what I'm feeling and I wouldn't have the strength to say them anyway. Some days I feel worn down and misunderstood and alone, and the taunting voices in my head whisper, "Is it worth it, is it worth it?"
I try to shut out the voices that tell me to give up, that it's too much for me to handle. I already know that. I am living for a life that is so much greater than my own; one that I cannot do without Jesus. And God whispers His strength for me right back to my heart, reminding me that living a life that is impossible without relying on Him is the only way I want to live. Warmth and strength and beautiful hope flood through me as I read Paul's words in his letter to the Corinthians:
"Since God has so generously let us in on what he is doing, we’re not about to throw up our hands and walk off the job just because we run into occasional hard times...Remember, our Message is not about ourselves; we’re proclaiming Jesus Christ, the Master. All we are is messengers, errand runners from Jesus for you. It started when God said, “Light up the darkness!” and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful.
If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that. You know for yourselves that we’re not much to look at. We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken...what Jesus did among them, he does in us—he lives! "
Life lived without Jesus as the King of my life might be easier. But it would NOT be worth it. I don't want a life of easy. I want a life of knowing Him. And this is hard when it leads me to feel tension where I once felt comfort.
My heart feels like it's being ripped apart because I see emptiness all around me. And sometimes the fight seems impossibly overwhelming. I see people needing a Rescuer but not even knowing it.
It's hard because I know this Rescuer. The One who continued to call my name even when I was stubborn and didn't want to hear Him. The One who came and got me when I found myself wondering why life was so empty. The One who I entrusted my empty, and who filled me with life I didn't know existed. It was Jesus who set me free from a life lived for myself, and He who is teaching me daily more and more about what it means to live a life that matters. Knowing Him is a treasure that I cannot put into words.
But it is also knowing Him that makes it so hard. It's hard when the treasure of Jesus here with us seems to go as unnoticed by most of the world as when He was born in a stable, in a crowded town with everyone else concerned and busy with their lives and getting things done that they totally missed it.
I'm frustrated but don't know how to fix it or what to do to make it better. It's hard for me to grasp the fact that there are things I can't change. But I try, oh how I try. I convince myself it will all be ok if I work harder, pray more, plan better, be more dependable, more loving, spend more time with people. I convince myself that I can. I can do it all. And I keep going until even my stubbornness isn't enough.
I read about Jesus and how He flipped over tables at the temple when He was frustrated and I imagine I am there. Frustrated at the unfairness and exploitation around me and frustrated that I don't see a way out, how it will ever change. And then I hear the crash of a table being thrown. I am shocked to turn to see Jesus. Without stopping He knocks over another. He is yelling something, fury in His voice. Chaos ensues and animals are running and people are yelling My first reaction is to tell Him to stop. "Are you out of your mind?" I want to ask this Him, "You're disturbing everything!" Yet at the same time there's a part of me that has been longing for someone to do this. To make the wrong things right, things that I feel I am helpless to do anything about. And here is Jesus, doing it in a way that is fierce, bold, intentional, unapologetic.
In the middle of it my confused eyes meet His and I feel held in place by His gaze, like time is frozen. I am afraid but in a good way. Because in this second I just know: He knows.
He knows my frustrations. He hates injustice. He knows what He is doing. And there's something else that I don't know if I can bring myself to really believe because I don't want to get my hopes up. But it's this: that He's fighting for me.
I forget I want Him to be in control, the One who fights for me, the One who holds me when I realize I can't hold it all together. I come before Him protesting and angry and frustrated and wanting things to be different than how they are. And I hear His voice saying, "I am mad about things too." I didn't know that was allowed.
And after the temple has been cleared the blind and the lame come to Him and He heals them. He makes eyes that only saw dark nothingness see color and life and beauty. Hands and legs that couldn't move are waving and dancing. Mouths that couldn't speak are singing to God. The place begins to pulse with life from the most unexpected people.
I didn't think that was allowed. I thought you had to be somebody special. But here is Jesus healing anyone who comes, bringing life to anyone who wants to find it.
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