An unexpected option and a whirlwind of thoughts. I think it's a good idea; I want to do it, but another part of me wants to just stay inside the walls, keep the distance, not have to worry about it all.
Jesus is going to have to help me to trust again because even this "little step" stretches the trust, the vulnerability that got bruised. I want to be genuine and honest, but that's still scary at times.
I've got to get beyond this. I've got to learn to trust again. I've got take a few risks.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Heartbreak and Jesus.
This is why for thousands of years Christians have found the cross to be so central to life. It speaks to us of God’s suffering, God’s pain, God’s broken heart. It’s God making the first move and then waiting for our response.
If you have ever given yourself to someone and had your heart broken, you know how God feels.
If you have ever given yourself to someone and found yourself waiting for their response, exposed and vulnerable, left hanging in the balance, you know how God feels.
If you have ever given yourself to someone and they responded, they reciprocated with love of their own, you know how God feels.
The cross is God’s way of saying, “I know what it’s like.”
The execution stake is the creator of the universe saying, “I know how you feel.”
Our tendency in the midst of suffering is to turn on God. To get angry and bitter and shake our fist at the sky and say, “God, you don’t know what it’s like! You don’t understand! You have no idea what I’m going through. You don’t have a clue how much this hurts.”
The cross is God’s way of taking away all of our accusations, excuses, and arguments.
The cross is God taking on flesh and blood and saying, “Me too.”
This can transform our experience of heartbreak. Instead of being something that can distance us from God, causing us to question, “Where are you?” every poem by a lover spurned, every song sung with an ache, every movie with a gut-wrenching scene, every late-night conversation and empty box of Kleenex are glimpses into the life of God.
Our first need is not for people to fix our problems. People who charge in and have all the answers and try to make things right without first joining us in our pain generally annoy us, or worse yet, they push us away. They have nothing to give us. The God that Jesus points us to isn't a god who stands at a distance, wringing his hands and saying, “If only you’d listened to me.”
This is the God who holds out his hands and asks, “Would you like to see the holes where the nails went? Would that help?”
It’s the place where we find out we’re not alone, where we find strength to go on. Not a strength that comes from within ourselves but a strength that comes from God. The God who keeps going. Who keeps offering. Who keeps loving. Who keeps risking.
A God who knows what it’s like.
The cross is where we present our wounds to God and say, “Here, you take them.”
Our healing begins when we participate in the suffering of God. When we don’t avoid it but enter into it, and in the process enter into the life of God. When we see our pain not as separating us from but connecting us to our maker.
And in this connection, there’s always the chance we’ll find a reason to risk again.
If God can continue to risk, then maybe we can too.
Perhaps you’ve had you heart broken by somebody. You risked and extended and offered yourself, and they rejected and turned away and didn’t return your love.
There is something divine in your suffering.
Somebody divine in your pain.
You know how God feels.
Really good, loving people get hurt. It’s how things are.
Maybe you’re living in the wake of a relationship that fell apart. You have to dig those moments up. The parts that hurt and the awkward conversations and the anger and the failure and the misunderstanding and the betrayal. You have to dig them up and acknowledge them before you are ever going to heal.
Sex God, Rob Bell
If you have ever given yourself to someone and had your heart broken, you know how God feels.
If you have ever given yourself to someone and found yourself waiting for their response, exposed and vulnerable, left hanging in the balance, you know how God feels.
If you have ever given yourself to someone and they responded, they reciprocated with love of their own, you know how God feels.
The cross is God’s way of saying, “I know what it’s like.”
The execution stake is the creator of the universe saying, “I know how you feel.”
Our tendency in the midst of suffering is to turn on God. To get angry and bitter and shake our fist at the sky and say, “God, you don’t know what it’s like! You don’t understand! You have no idea what I’m going through. You don’t have a clue how much this hurts.”
The cross is God’s way of taking away all of our accusations, excuses, and arguments.
The cross is God taking on flesh and blood and saying, “Me too.”
This can transform our experience of heartbreak. Instead of being something that can distance us from God, causing us to question, “Where are you?” every poem by a lover spurned, every song sung with an ache, every movie with a gut-wrenching scene, every late-night conversation and empty box of Kleenex are glimpses into the life of God.
Our first need is not for people to fix our problems. People who charge in and have all the answers and try to make things right without first joining us in our pain generally annoy us, or worse yet, they push us away. They have nothing to give us. The God that Jesus points us to isn't a god who stands at a distance, wringing his hands and saying, “If only you’d listened to me.”
This is the God who holds out his hands and asks, “Would you like to see the holes where the nails went? Would that help?”
It’s the place where we find out we’re not alone, where we find strength to go on. Not a strength that comes from within ourselves but a strength that comes from God. The God who keeps going. Who keeps offering. Who keeps loving. Who keeps risking.
A God who knows what it’s like.
The cross is where we present our wounds to God and say, “Here, you take them.”
Our healing begins when we participate in the suffering of God. When we don’t avoid it but enter into it, and in the process enter into the life of God. When we see our pain not as separating us from but connecting us to our maker.
And in this connection, there’s always the chance we’ll find a reason to risk again.
If God can continue to risk, then maybe we can too.
Perhaps you’ve had you heart broken by somebody. You risked and extended and offered yourself, and they rejected and turned away and didn’t return your love.
There is something divine in your suffering.
Somebody divine in your pain.
You know how God feels.
Really good, loving people get hurt. It’s how things are.
Maybe you’re living in the wake of a relationship that fell apart. You have to dig those moments up. The parts that hurt and the awkward conversations and the anger and the failure and the misunderstanding and the betrayal. You have to dig them up and acknowledge them before you are ever going to heal.
Sex God, Rob Bell
Sunday, June 08, 2008
An Awkward Stage. And a Good Dose of Honesty.
I must admit that I came home tonight with my mind whirling, but it wasn't whirling as a result of the specific thoughts shared tonight. Instead my mind latched onto one thought and suddenly realized how much I feel caught in the middle of an awkward stage, a sort of identity crisis. As I process my future role in a church body, I am hit with the realization that I will soon be the age of a stereotypical youth leader. You know it: that "fresh out of college, perhaps just married and just enough adult, but still young" age. However, there aren't many in this population... in other words, when it comes time to find people to be leaders for the looming swarm of pre-teen and teens, it could come down to, hmmm, two of us? And, quite frankly, I don't know that I will or wantfeel called to fill such a position. Who knows what I will be doing or exactly what my identity will include at that time. Sure, I don't know exactly what time will bring.
But, I can assure you that I don't think many people have realized the lack of people in this stereotypical "youth leader age group."
Which unfurls the rest of the my tangled thoughts. More and more I find myself caught in an awkward stage, a sort of dance between childhood and adulthood. I consider myself an adult (thank you) yet have still been labeled as a child at times. However, this is the least of my worries. Due to this stage of life, connections are seasonal at best. I mean, school, then home, then school, then home...
Take a good look at the life of the young adult group and you will find it lacking. Two people only home for 1/4 of the year. I speak for 50% of that population when I say that the young adult group is certainly not what keeps me here.
So, how do we "fix" the problem? I'm not saying we can fix this specific issue... you can't create more young adults. And, how do you create a connection for a group that is absent for 3/4 of the year?
But, why aren't we attracting young adults?
It's probably a vicious cycle. Don't get me wrong; I appreciate the connections that are made in the short months. But, one thing is certain: I'm not the pre-teen or teen with handfuls of buddies, and I'm not married with a kid on my hip. Sort of lost in the shuffle. I'm not a member of the masses in need of a youth pastor; neither am I a mom in need of time away or parenting advice. But, I'm in school, I'm working through heartbreak, I'm feeling young, I'm working through grief, I'm raising questions, I'm building dreams, I'm working, I'm tired, I'm worried about finances, I'm excited about life.
I've dipped my toes in other young adult groups, and I've seen the "green, thriving grass on the other side of the fence." I've seen the blend of people, identities.
It was a short taste. But I miss it. I miss becoming a part of that support group, I miss having that support group to fall back on and learn from. (Don't get me wrong, parents are a wonderful support! But, the age group that I looked forward to being a part of is suddenly not here. Not really anyone's fault... But I think it's a fact that most people don't see and you just might want to consider the future implications of this dwindling age group.
When they're looking for a youth leader and my age/identity makes me a prime suspect, will I be around? Or, will I be out looking for my peers, looking for a connection with them?
Blame it on the time of day, my tired mind, or the disillusionment of a college student. But, something's missing.
But, I can assure you that I don't think many people have realized the lack of people in this stereotypical "youth leader age group."
Which unfurls the rest of the my tangled thoughts. More and more I find myself caught in an awkward stage, a sort of dance between childhood and adulthood. I consider myself an adult (thank you) yet have still been labeled as a child at times. However, this is the least of my worries. Due to this stage of life, connections are seasonal at best. I mean, school, then home, then school, then home...
Take a good look at the life of the young adult group and you will find it lacking. Two people only home for 1/4 of the year. I speak for 50% of that population when I say that the young adult group is certainly not what keeps me here.
So, how do we "fix" the problem? I'm not saying we can fix this specific issue... you can't create more young adults. And, how do you create a connection for a group that is absent for 3/4 of the year?
But, why aren't we attracting young adults?
It's probably a vicious cycle. Don't get me wrong; I appreciate the connections that are made in the short months. But, one thing is certain: I'm not the pre-teen or teen with handfuls of buddies, and I'm not married with a kid on my hip. Sort of lost in the shuffle. I'm not a member of the masses in need of a youth pastor; neither am I a mom in need of time away or parenting advice. But, I'm in school, I'm working through heartbreak, I'm feeling young, I'm working through grief, I'm raising questions, I'm building dreams, I'm working, I'm tired, I'm worried about finances, I'm excited about life.
I've dipped my toes in other young adult groups, and I've seen the "green, thriving grass on the other side of the fence." I've seen the blend of people, identities.
It was a short taste. But I miss it. I miss becoming a part of that support group, I miss having that support group to fall back on and learn from. (Don't get me wrong, parents are a wonderful support! But, the age group that I looked forward to being a part of is suddenly not here. Not really anyone's fault... But I think it's a fact that most people don't see and you just might want to consider the future implications of this dwindling age group.
When they're looking for a youth leader and my age/identity makes me a prime suspect, will I be around? Or, will I be out looking for my peers, looking for a connection with them?
Blame it on the time of day, my tired mind, or the disillusionment of a college student. But, something's missing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
