February 14, 2009

do you like being crabby?

I don't either. I don't like being wrong, annoyed, or impatient. Regardless, I still am. I'm powerless.

What am I? Nothing. A lifeless lifeline, a heart of clay. (It scares me that I'm quoting U2.) I am swayed by my situation: if I am content, it's only because times are easy. If I love, it is only because another loved me first. By myself, I let the stresses of tournament season make me ugly. I'm devoid of meaning. My actions are inconsistent with my desires.

Ephesians 4:14-16
"...so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love."

I am a child, tossed by the waves around me. What am I good for? In Jon Foreman's words, both of our hands are equally skilled at doing evil. I am stuck in original sin. My nature is so successful at doing evil, so practiced, so cultivated! It controls me.

I want to feel solid ground under my feet. I want to speak the truth in love. Jesus says "I am the way, the Truth, and the life." He is, if you will, "the form" person, and he is able to make me whole. Not just an empty shell, where emotions and thoughts and circumstances grapple for control. He can make me a human who knows, speaks, and acts according to absolute, objective, truth.

When I am a whole person, I fit properly into the body of believers. Through "unity of faith and the knowledge of the Son of God" the body of Christ begins working. Is it really possible that the body of Christ was intended to plan speaking venues, discuss issues, and serve one another like a well-oiled machine? I think so. He changes us completely, so we stop tearing each other down and start building each other up in love. We grow to resemble He who is our model of consistency and meaning. God is excellently suited to do good. Both of his hands are equally skilled at ruining evil.

I want to get rid of my incompleteness, my bondage to sin, and my skill at doing evil. So I must hold tight to the immovable rock of Truth. It's hard for me to believe, but I have the assurance that Truth is real! I am changeable and untrustworthy. Alone, my life is meaningless. Truth is solid and consistent. Truth transforms.


Michael said...

"It scares me that I'm quoting U2."

*cackles* U2 is amazing. I agree with you, sometimes I feel lifeless, as if I do nothing, am nothing, I "sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn" (Eliot, "The Boston evening Transcript" look it up.) But then I remember that I am something. You are something. We DO have solid ground to stand on. We are created in the image of God, and we are also being made holy...though all too slowly.

Anyway, as usual my comments have nothing to do with your post :P

That line about feeling something solid under your feet reminded me of another U2 Song. "Where the Streets Have No Name" The opening lines are:

I want to run
I want to hide
I want to tear down the walls
That hold me inside

I love that song (yeah...I know)

Hayley said...

I do not say this lightly and I mean this 100% literally.

The truth of God for the win.

It blows my mind, that the battle is already won, that we are already new creations, that we are being daily refined, that one day we will be perfect, that in God's eyes we are complete in Jesus. If that isn't triumph, I don't know what it.

(Also, the U2 quoteage is just another reason I love you so much. :D)

Kaitlyn said...

"I feel like a fruit picker who arrived here after the harvest..."

I know the feeling. The nothingness. The fragility of emotions and feelings. Lifeless.

We (people) are something. We have this special stamp: image bearer. It makes all the nothingness something. It has the possibility of making the fragile beautiful. Of giving the lifeless life. Of restoring the broken: making us whole.

I'm so glad that through Him we can be changed. Thanks for reminding us! Love you, Becka!