grace

I read something recently that has made me consider grace in a different way. I haven't yet decided if it's accurate, but it had given me a hope-filled pause.

The author first described the standard view of grace in terms that made it something like this: "You are human and will likely fail. But grace has allowed room for that and has forgiven your shortcomings. Now, continue on your journey and try to do better."

Not necessarily inaccurate.

He then went on to describe true grace very differently: "You are human. You will fail. Grace offers forgiveness for your mistakes, but it most importantly offers a helping hand for your journey."

Grace as a helping hand. Not just forgiveness, but something that helps you get back up again and that stays with you, continually helping you.

That seems a bit different to me. A bit more powerful.

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A yoke that fits

Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light. (Matthew 11:28-30 NLT)

I keep coming back to this lately. Jesus offering rest to the weary through the yoke that fits, through the load that is easy to bear.

He speaks of finding rest by learning from him. Finding rest while carrying the burden that He has specifically made for us. The concept of rest coming through burdens, or stresses, seems counter-intuitive to me. But then I remembered that I might know what He's talking about.

I experienced it for the first time a few months ago, very briefly. I had an opportunity to try something new. Something difficult, something that in one sense was going to be very hard and require all of my ability and stamina. But it was for something that I loved, something I was intensely passionate about. When I was making the decision whether to go for it or not, I remember being energized by the prospect of what was coming, both the excitement for the positives, but also an excitement for overcoming the challenges. I viewed it as an adventure, and it brought life into my soul.

Contrast that experience with my current situation at work: an endless parade of demands and impossible deadlines that have to be met, for a career path that I can't stand. My sleep has been spotty for months. My face is dull, my diet unhealthy, my body literally aching as I type this blog, my personal life deteriorating with every passing month. The stress is quite literally more than I am able to cope with, and my life (including spiritually) has taken a back seat to this ever-present weight.

This yoke doesn't fit.

I don't think the "easy" and "light" that Jesus was talking about meant a full removal of difficulties in our lives. After all, that isn't how Earth works. But maybe He was trying to tell us that His path for us fits us better than any path we can carve out on our own. That the burdens that arise while we are wearing His plan for us - His yoke - will be more like adventures than stresses.

Maybe that's what He means in this verse. Maybe that's what He's trying to help us grab onto, believe in, and move towards.

~~~

A note: I understand that even while walking in His will, we will experience times that try us and stretch us; but what if even then, there is a way to rest - truly - in His peace? What if His yoke still fits in those times, too?

(If you aren't familiar with how yokes work in farming, it's pretty cool and clarifies this concept even more, including the idea that He shares the bulk of the weight in the load. Look it up if you get a chance.)

~~~

Arrow

I love the show Arrow. It has a surprising depth that I haven't found in many other shows (even more surprising because I'm quite out of the target demographic for most CW shows).

The relationship between three of the main characters (John Diggle, Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen) shows the kind of loyal camaraderie that I aim to emulate in my closest relationships. Plot and details spared, the latest episode hit me right to my hidden core.

The scene when Oliver is trying to protect Diggle, but Diggle rejects his concerns, Felicity quietly listening in the foreground.
The scene in the hospital room with Diggle's recant and Oliver watching from the doorway.
The hallway scene.
The entire arc of the episode.

Right decision or wrong decision, I relate to Oliver almost palpably. The look on his face in the hospital room. Seeing the family he deeply wants. Being within touching distance of having it, knowing it is right there to grab. Deciding that his dreams can't happen, that the bigger picture is more important than his personal happiness. Walking away, causing pain to those he desperately wants to protect and love.

Then, in an euphoria born from being newly-paternal, Diggle obliviously validates Oliver's decision, forcing to the surface the agonizing truth that Oliver can never experience the type of joy he is watching his friend swim in, the type of joy Oliver can imagine having with the woman standing right in front of him. He is left to cope and grieve.

Right decision or wrong decision, I heavily relate to his grief-laced coping.

Can you regret your future?

(Titanic, Downton Abbey)

I can relate to this moment, the one when they each realized exactly who they would become if they didn't make a significant change in the course of their lives. A change with no guarantee. A change that goes against every stability they've ever known. A change that likely would not be accepted or even understood by people whom they loved.

But their soul, their very core, couldn't fathom living in this same place any longer.

From that instant, they were torn in two. They could no longer ignore it; they had to decide: be true to convention and security, or let their hearts have a say and be true to themselves. 

To find a way, not to be reckless, but to be honest and courageous.

In that moment  -- I can see my 80-year-old self looking back at me. Somehow I know that she will have a very significant opinion about what I do in this season of my life. I can't know what that opinion is until I live the life to get there. Did I play it safe and it worked out well? Did I play it safe only to look back and regret decades now long gone? Did I change everything and fall miserably in failure? Did I listen to my heart and somehow find a blessed key to life? 

Which old woman will I be? I can't know that until I am her. I have to accept that.

All I can choose now is which young woman I will be. 

Will I find a way?

thorns

I read the parable of the farmer and his seeds again tonight (Matthew 13:1-9).

Some of the seeds fell on the footpath, some fell in the rocks, others into the thorns, and finally some in the tilled earth. (If you're unfamiliar with the story, or need a quick refresh like I did, you can read the explanation here in Matthew 13:18-23.)

I always thought I was a seed in the tilled earth, but tonight I see that I am usually among the thorns. Good heart, good intentions, but nevertheless living among the worries of life as they silently choke out my tiny seeds of hope and faith, never allowing a harvest to develop and multiply. Never allowing me to actually live the faith and dreams I think God placed in my heart.

I've lived life among these thorns. Going moment to moment thinking I was just listening to simple prudence and responsibility, never seeing the thorns there, never considering that they may be why I am suffocating.

But how do I apply this to everyday life without opening myself up to really stupid decisions?

How do I become tilled earth?

faith that bleeds and breathes

This post spoke to me. I stumbled upon it somewhere in the rabbit hole of the internet, and it has soothed my soul, exactly the salve of what I needed to hear.

This was like fresh air. Not an answer for the questions I still don't know how to ask, not a solution on how to get out of where I am, just a reminder that where I find myself isn't all that strange a season to be in. Like an encouraging word from a best friend who sits in the trenches with you, who understands that some soul-deep questions can't be answered with shortcuts. That faith is a journey; that where I am right now, this process of understanding grace versus the "clenching of my teeth," is both vital and deliberate.

Without growing pains, we only end up shallow and misinformed. Without pushing through the initial illusions of an easy faith do we begin to arrive at the rich vibrancy of a faith that bleeds and breathes.

[...]

I don’t want to do this to you. I don’t want to appeal to your propensity for a quick easy fix. I would rather teach you how to think than what to think. Because it’s only after you’ve tasted the truth for yourself could you ever fully decide to clamp down upon the meat and digest. Everyone needs to climb their own mountain, or else you shortcut the depth of your own convictions. My role is only to get out of the way and point. Our role isn’t to digest the food for each other.

If it were this easy, it wouldn’t be God who is working but only the clenching of my teeth. Who really wants the quick, pat cliche? Who wants the solution that wasn’t born out of sweat and catharsis? That won’t last past Tuesday. We need blooming and not a bullet.

(J.S. Park)

2 sides of grace

There is a driving desperation inside of me, this need to earn God's favor. The concept of it being unmerited simply doesn't compute. This is going to sound very prideful, but it's almost insulting, the idea that I cannot merit His favor. I've worked so hard to do things the way He asked, to live the life I was supposed to live, to be "making myself ready" as it says in Revelation. My self worth - for better or worse - is attached to how well I've done in following God. It might be wrong, but it is true conceptually for me. I've given so much, sacrificed so much, hurt so deeply for what I believe in. I've done the right, best thing over and over again no matter how much it affected me - how can that amount to nothing? How can others receive by default what I've been asked to strive for?

On the flip side, these rules and commands - this law - it's too much. Too hard, more than I could ever hope to achieve. I desperately need grace. I can't do this in my own strength. I can't "make myself ready" for anything - I need God to lean on, to trust in, to abide in. I have no hope without him; grace is utterly necessary or I am hopeless. When I look at others who are hurting, I understand how important accepting grace can be. I want them to have it (despite my conflicting words above). I want them to know how much they are loved. I know I need it, oh I know I need it. But when it comes to me, I still don't understand how it can be received without earning it.

No wonder I feel stuck and lost.

Relatable

"I found myself in one of those times of life when a door has been slammed shut, and I did not see another one to open. I wondered what I was going to do next. I looked at various interests and majors, only to arrive at a deep emptiness and sense of darkness regarding the future.
I had many friends, but a few failed dating relationships had left me wondering if I would ever be able to make a relationship work. How did one find the right relationship? What did it look like? Was I even the kind of person who could pull that off? My relational future did not look any more hopeful than my vocational one.
It was in this state of mind and circumstance that I found myself that Sunday afternoon in my room. Thoughts about all the aspects of life that were not working went through my head like a whirlwind. What will I do? Who will I end up with? How will I find my way in my career and in my relationships? How can I change into a person who is not so depressed and unable to figure this all out? I didn't have any answers."

Knowing who said this, and knowing where his life took him later on, gives me a bit of hope for how closely I relate to his words now. Maybe things will get better - and stay better.

Source: Dr Henry Cloud, How People Grow, pg 66

Expectations

Your expectation of what lies in front of you is low.

Nonexistent, even.

You fear hoping because you expect hardship. 

Hurt. 

Disappointment. 

A reality you "should" have seen but didn't.

But what if there is a positive reality that truly does exist?

What if you've settled for a painful counterfeit simply because you're afraid the good stuff is a lie?

Hope is very heavy, I know. 

It can crush you.

But what if - just what if - that crushing weight isn't hope at all?

What if hope is different?

broken

I don't want to write, but I have to.
I don't want to keep this grip on the "good I know is out there somewhere."
But if I don't...if I let go now...

This last turn of events broke me.
Coming through so much,
coming out of so much,
building a life I loved that actually held hope -
scary but real hope -
only to have it all fall apart around me,
again -
like always.

It finally broke me.

My faith is rent.

What is the point?

Right now, all I can see in my future is hurt. Pain. Loneliness. Emptiness. I can't believe in dreams anymore. It's meaningless. To start over again, to pick up this mess and glue it back together again - why? To what end? I'll just be back on my hands and knees picking up these same broken pieces in time. It's just a depressing matter of time.

I thought this time would be different. I thought I was finally safe to hope. I was wrong.

So, I write. I write to listen to that annoying, tinny voice in my head that's warning me not to let go. 'Cause if I let go this time - I honestly don't think I'd ever make it back.

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