Tuesday, March 12, 2013

in this hope I am saved

Samuka getting bigger, etc 185The winter is thawing and I have begun walking again.  And I think of the walks or runs of my life.  The places lived and the reasons {I thought} that I was ‘there’. 
And it is no different here.  Being the visionary type, when the reality of the day-to-day settles in, it’s a fight to keep dreaming.  And I am plagued with thoughts of all I ought to be doing to bring about those dreams I lived in before this new home became a reality.
I fall so easily into self-loathing when I realize that I have lived far short of what I hoped.  I knew it wouldn’t be easy to make a new home in a new country.  But did I really understand how hard it would be?
I’ve been searching for that truth that I can fix my eyes upon that will anchor my heart.  To keep walking and trusting and knowing the peace of God.
Yet as I walk here, I am overwhelmed by the needs, the broken & hurting who live just beyond the walls of the tall apartment buildings that define the neighborhood in which we live.  And I don’t think I have ever felt so small.  What can I in my plaguing insecurities and my oh-so-frail possibly do to touch the pain here?
But it’s a dry & destitute wasteland where my vision is filled with my own failings.  When all I see is the oh-so-weak me who is a sorry excuse for a missionary.
Everything born of the Spirit within me KNOWS that this is no place for my eyes to rest.  There is no glorifying of the God I love who chooses to use the weak of this world, namely me, when all I can see is this frail shell that my own righteousness hollows out.
So I’ve been restless and asking for that manna I need so that I can walk in the Spirit in this new life.  And I received a goodly portion yesterday looking down the hill upon this community, this city.
Like a holy whisper to hush my restless soul He reminds me that He did not bring me here primarily to use me.  He’s brought me on this journey to perfect me; to bring me closer to Home. to Him. to His heart. Yet, I view myself through that humbling lens of falling short of my own lofty expectations or even those I perceive others have of me,Samuka getting bigger, etc 187 seeking somehow to conjure the strength to do better.  To be closer to what I think a missionary, a mom, a wife, a Christ-follower ‘should’ be…and I’ve got it all wrong.
All this does is spin me silly and sick in that vicious cycle where I’m striving and failing and angry and sad that I am…failing.  What a pained and chained and JOY-killing thing this is.
When His promises speak of that ‘perfect peace’ as my mind rests on Him.  And the casting out of all fear by His perfect love.  And that I am to be defined by hope, for in it, I have been saved.
So I’m asking for the grace, the heart, to receive the wild, pursuing love of a God who continually amazes with His relentless ways.  To rest in His stopping-at-nothing work in me.  And to be filled in beholding Him; trusting that He will do more in this than I could ever ask for or imagine.
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