(This was something I wrote a few months ago but kept coming back to. And while I hesitate to share things sometimes, although that may be hard to believe, I think this might be of help to some of you who read the blog)
The other morning, on my way to work, I cried.
Tears flowed down my cheeks like I was a 3-year-old kid who just scraped his knee for the first time. Only this wasn’t the first time. I’m not a 3 year old anymore. Lots of scrapes have come to these knees…and to this heart.
I cried for what has been lost. Only God knows if He will restore those things. I cried for what isn’t, the things I wish were now, but aren’t. I cried for the things which are, and how I’m neglecting them when I know I shouldn’t. I cried over the sin in my heart that should not be but is.
Sometimes…sometimes you just feel adrift. And though you can see the shore, you can never quite reach it, no matter how hard you paddle.
I know the things you’d say to me, things to encourage and try to lift up my head. I know Jesus is with me. I know my hope should be in Him alone but….sometimes you just need something…or you think you need something, because, in the end, it fails you, no matter how much you think it won’t, and no matter how HOLY it might be. If it’s not Him, it will fail you.
Do you get that? Do I really get it?
If your hope is not in Jesus alone, it will fail you.
Pastors will fail you. Jobs will fail you. Husbands and wives will fail you. Friends will fail you. Children will fail you. Things will fail you. Money will fail you. Your health will one day fail you.
Only Jesus will never, ever fail.
And yet, how do we know it’s Him? How, at the end of the day, do we really know?
There is a brittleness to things sometimes, and you feel as if you squeeze too hard, it will crumble in your hands. Sometimes, Jesus feels as solid as the chair I’m sitting on…sometimes, He feels as fleeting as car exhaust on a cold, dry, Mid-Western morning.
Someone reminded me of Psalm 42 this a.m., though I needed no reminder because I’ve not only heard multiple sermons preached on it, I’ve preached them myself.
“Why are you cast down, O my soul, why groan within me?
Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him,
the help of my countenance and my God.”
I know these words. I know they’re true.
And yet, sometimes, they just don’t cut it. Sometimes I need more. Is that wrong? Maybe I’m just not as holy as some. Or maybe I’m losing my mind?
That’s always a possibility.
Or maybe I’m losing my religion.
I didn’t say I’m losing my faith…I said I may be losing my religion.
Maybe, just maybe, all the rule keeping, note taking, bible-thumping-but-not-really-walking-out-what-you-believe-cause-if-you-did-it-would-mean-you’re-free-to-follow-Jesus-and-the-Holy-Spirit-might-just-expose-who-you-really-are dead religion.
Maybe that’s going. And good riddance. Cause that sucks.
I cried. I cried like a baby for his Father. I cried in my big, bad work truck, wearing my big, bad-oil-field clothes.
I cried because sometimes it really sucks to live between the already and the not yet.