On My Heart

I want to explain some things to you. Maybe you've thought some of these things. Maybe some of them are the reason you reject Jesus today. But, I hope this clears some things up for you.

I went to a Christian school. I went to summer camp at a Christian retreat center. I was raised in a large church and had many opportunities to do Christian youth-type things: retreats, rallies, lock-ins, and so forth. Time and time again I heard the wonderful testimonies of people who had not only been saved from hell but, at one point, had lived like it. Former drug addicts and rock stars. My boring, Christian-home existence seemed so unaffected by the Gospel. We always did the right thing. We always went to church. We always prayed at meals. What could the Gospel do for me that I wasn't already doing?

So, I continued to memorize the words of the Bible. I continued to log my attendance and close my eyes during prayer. Until I didn't. You see, as I got older and became more independent, the trappings of religion became far less appealing. Instead of being surrounded by people who encouraged that sort of thing, I was now asked if I'd like to pick up an extra shift on Sunday morning, or I'd like to go out on Saturday night. No one cared if I could recite entire books of the Bible and no one cared if I prayed at all, much less peeked or passed notes during the doxology. Religion was empty and ineffective, and lasted only as long as I was willing to keep it up.

By the time I fully surrendered, my life had, at times, resembled the lives of those who I'd met so many years before, but none of it was as glamorous as I'd thought it sounded when I'd been sitting in the cheap seats. There was pain and regret; there were lasting consequences; there were irreversible decisions; there was disappointment and embarrassment. Religion and arrogance had led me to a place I'd always thought I wanted to be; mercy and grace led me to a place I thought I never wanted to be.

The longer I'd sailed through life foundationless and misdirected, the more I needed the Gospel; but not just the words I had dutifully put to memory, not the outward expressions of obedience or the pretense of godliness. I needed the transformation experienced by those whose testimonies I had so admired. I needed to lay down the "Gospel According to Me" and give everything over to The Way, the Truth and the Life -- Jesus. And what I came to know was that I'd always needed that. In the raucous joy of summer camp or the quiet of all school chapels; in the regularity of saying grace or the tedium of fifth-grade concordance studies, I needed transformation. I didn't have to live some wild life of debauchery to need Jesus, and I couldn't find restoration and sanctification in religious behavior. I needed Him all along and could only find Him in what He had done.

So, if you're struggling with religion, if you're thinking God can't use your quiet little Christian life, I urge you to give it all over to Him. He will take your arrogance and your ennui, and do something absolutely amazing. Without the religion. Without the regret.

A Question of Preparation

I sit here, rocking this tiny person, giving him comfort. From what, I have no idea. Something has startled him, something has caused him to fear or to hurt. And here I am. I remember my mother rocking me in our worn out recliner. It seemed as though hours would pass before I would be calm. I was, as I remember, a tormented child. I remember crying, I remember frustration over things I couldn't even explain. Just these inexplicable feelings. As I got older, I wondered if I was mentally ill. Writing became, and remains today, an outlet, a catharsis, a way to logically sort through events and emotions in order to -- today -- pray effectively about them.

This morning, my devotions centered around "dangerous" prayers, specifically ones that beg, "Send me." I have prayed those prayers before, and God has always led me more deeply into the fray, more deeply into reliance on Him, and more deeply into relationship with Him. Today's devotional concluded with these two questions:

What did God do for you? How do you think it sets you up for what He wants you to do for Him?

Seconds after I prepared to answer the first question in my journal, in came this distraught little child, begging to be assuaged from who knows what. And as I rocked, I understood: God gave me a mother who taught me compassion. She cradled me for hours on end. She served others she saw as less fortunate. She was kind to animals. She rooted for the underdog -- always. (She taught me to cheer for Army every December 😊 ) She provided hugs and treats even though I could provide no explanation for my distress. God gave her to me. But not just for my benefit...

Question #2. I can't always understand what Mom is thinking or experiencing. I don't always have minutes, let alone hours, penciled into my daily schedule to soothe every hurt or stroke every ego in our crowded little home. I don't always want to soothe every hurt or stroke every ego. This life doesn't look like anything I had planned or even would plan. Sometimes things appear completely irrational and unnecessary -- to me. But so many years ago, God had a plan. He gave me this gentle woman who taught me compassion. Compassion that, by God's grace, I am able to return to her and pass on to others as I implore daily, "Send me."

So, what has God done for you?
How has His goodness on your behalf prepared you for what might happen when you pray, "Send me"?