μετανοέω: Away From Self-Reliance

It's been a frosty two months. The warm, sunshine thoughts that started the year have been frozen right over with pride and self-righteousness. I was so full of hope as I named the year. The year of μετανοέω, of turning. I hoped at the beginning that this would be a year full of leaning into my sweet Lord Jesus, a year of listening and quiet trust, of gentle fearlessness and sure power.

I made lists of things that I should do each day, each week - the mothering, the wifing, the friending, the teaching. The lists were supposed to help me steward these high callings, remember all the details, keep it all in order. It turned out that I was just making a list of things that kept me away from my God.

What I have failed to learn and live is that no amount of work will ever give me peace. There will always be more to do and I'll never feel like I've done enough. All the crossed-off lists in the world will not bring me closer to finding what I really desire.

When my life is controlled and evaluated by my lists, I rely on my own poor strength. I move from task to task joylessly, missing the holiness all around. I rely on my weak skill to be both teacher and student and fail to see the what should be learned. I assume my intentions make me good enough. I scramble through the day restless and thirsty, fearful that someone is going to notice my secret: I am not enough.

For long months, God has called quietly to me, beckoning me deeper into mystery and abundant life:

He said, "Come, and I will make you new, " and I have replied, "I am working on it, Lord."

He said, "I will give you rest," and I have answered, "I need to finish just one more thing..."

And so His voice has grown faint and I have arrived at the end of myself (again) and I look and see the ruin and fruitlessness of all that I've worked at.

Because you have forgotten the God of your salvation, and have not been mindful of the Rock of your stronghold, therefore you will plant pleasant plants and set out foreign seedlings; in the day you will make your plant to grow, and in the morning you will make your seed to flourish; but the harvest will be a heap of ruins in the day of grief and desperate sorrow. (Isaiah 17:10-11)

The things that matter most in this life cannot be framed in to-do lists. The things that matter most happen quietly in the heart. They are hidden and abstract and they can't be crossed off: love, joy, peace, faith, wonder...

Then the voice said again, 'If you are thirsty, come and drink... Are you not thirsty?'

'I'm dying of thirst,' said Jill.

'Then drink," said the Lion.

(from The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis)

Spirit Flow

I've been asking for the Spirit, for more of Christ in me. As I cry out in spiritual thirst, I pray that the Lord may grant me a time of moving prayer or an amazing, life-changing scriptural insight. I've imagined a mystical closeness; a supernatural overflowing in my soul; an easy willingness to obey His commands.

But that's not what I'm getting. I ask and ask again for the Spirit and I am surrounded by people. My life overflows with people. Projects and events and meetings and deliveries and meals and games and movies, all full of people.

I long for the Spirit, and I'm not sure what I'm asking for. My motives are likely crooked. I'm looking for a knowledge or a power that I can wield. I ask to understand a mystery and to contain the wind, both impossible, yet promised to me. I ask and ask again. I read of Him and use His language, "fill me, rest on me, come upon me, carry me, instruct me, be poured out on me, enter me, lift me, fall on me, speak through me, gift me, give me life." This is what He has done for the saints in the past and I want to feel that sweetness, too.

As my faith leads me to ask for the Spirit, in the same breath He is come. I want to collect Him like a treasure, but He does not want a stopped bottle or a lidded jar. I cannot catch the Living Stream and the Flowing Fountain in a cup for myself to sip at will. I must keep coming back to drink. Return to Him and return again. And there are all these people.

But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to each one for the profit of all... (1 Corinthians 12:7)

What I receive in answer to my prayer for the Bread of Life and for Living Water, does not belong to me. These gifts are for the benefit of all, for the Church, for the Body of Christ. And when I ask God to come near, when I reach for the Spirit, the people always come near, too. Why would God fill me up with the Spirit if not for the benefit of those He loves? Why overflow my cup if there's no one around to collect the abundance and give glory to Christ for it all?

Even if I'm simply a conduit, this is grace to me, too. The kind of grace that forms and bends me and makes me new. For what is it I fear most in the world if not people? Rejection and abandonment have trained me to self protect. My selfish fear growls like a bear while I'm in these crowds and I want a different way.

But to keep in step with the Spirit it's necessary that my toes get stepped on, that the floors of my home feel the tread of strange feet, and that the doors of my heart open to the people God sends my way. When I choose this I am born new again and the seeming paradox - that God is strongest in my weakness- is like honey and I pray again, "Though I am afraid, please Holy Spirit, come."

The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit. (John 3:8)

Deliver me, again

I know the Lord of all Creation was chasing after me when I was young, but His voice was unfamiliar to me. When in failure and in confusion my young heart cried, “I am broken and unworthy of love,” silence echoed a harsh agreement. I had no mother’s voice to soothe, no father’s voice to defend: a spiritual orphan.

But grace makes the unlovely lovely and I knew the voice of Christ on a deep night. His love makes me heir and beautiful. Yet...

Many days I don’t believe it and stomp through life like a troll. The Spirit beckons and I stop my ears. I stretch my heart and soul and mind and strength around projects and tasks, books and learning, intentions and thoughts. Refusing the Life that is promised to me, I settle for distraction and shallow delight, cling to worldly and evil comforts. I chase self-interest and the praises of man. I give snakes when my children ask for bread, choose loneliness. I hold back love and praise and prayer. Over and over the same powerless, faithless, loveless life.

Who will deliver me from this body of death?

The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different.

A new power is in operation: the Spirit of life in Christ.
(Romans 7:25, 8:2)

Spirit, You are elusive and mysterious but I long to know You. My Lord said that it was to my advantage that He go away so that You, the Helper, would come. Trembling, I invite You in, though I do not know what I’m asking for...