What is real and what is make believe?
This weekend I experienced fellowship. I expereinced the body of Christ. I experienced a free people. I expereinced communion. I expereinced realness.
I was surrounded by people being open and real about themselves, about their problems, about their fakeness, about their brokenness, about their questions, about their shame, about thier wounds.
This weekend I experienced fakeness, I expereinced hiding behind a mask, I experienced jealousy and frustration. I expereinced pride. I was surrounded by a broken people consumed witht themselves and what others think of them.
This weekend I experienced questioning, I experienced raw honest truth, I experienced the beautiful let down, I experienced struggle and encouragement.
This weekend I met an unfaithful husband, a released prisoner, a motherless son, a daughter scared of her father, a past drug addict, a past alcoholic, a confused girl, a boy hiding behind a mask...this is the body broken and on their knees in need of a savior. We are a broken people. We are fake and yet we are real about being fake.
This weekend I was brought to my knees in the realization of the pedastool I have placed myself upon. I came falling down in humble repentance and astonishment at the grace toward these aweful sinners: mostly myself, my pride and toward my own fakeness.
This is the body, we are human, we are broken, we hide behind our masks, we cling to our pride, and yet his love somehow penatrates all of this if even for a moment and our eyes are opened to see that we are all in this beautiful mess together. We are real with eachother, sharing doubts and secrets and wounds. We are beautiful and loved and real...and yet...so fake, but this is what it is to be human.
It is so cliche. I can't put it into words but it is beginning to make sense to me. Jesus actions and words toward the sinners, broken hearted, widows,and even me... they are starting to make just a little more sense.
This weekend I experienced contridictions, I expereinced pain, I expereinced loss and hopelessness, and I experienced the silence of God...yet in his silence he was there for his people were gathered in his name.
From my journal this weekend:
As I sit inside this dark room I long to empty myself as it is empty. Empty me of my desires that wage war within my soul, that trap me in their demands and empty lies. I want to be filled anew. Filled with His presence in a way I've never known. Like I've never known.
As I stare at the floor listening to the songs, the questions and the teachings there is a part of me that is confused, lost and unfamiliar whith what is going on. What is this thing I'm in? Who are these people? Who is this God of mine? Of mine? Is he mine? And who am I?WHat is this mess I'm living in? As I look around I'm relieved ...and content ...and hungry for more of this. I'm excited about this love. This love? What is this love? It is like I have 2 of me inside my head. Neither are wrong, nor right...but they are both very lost. Is there hope? Hope? What is hope? All I want to do is love...really love, and be loved. What is love? Love?
I want to seek but I'm scared of what I'll find (or not find). I want to trust but my imperfections hinder my desires. What are my desires?
He will not let me down? He loves me as I am? He knows me deeper than I? He thinks I'm beautiful? Who is this God whos captrued my heart, who loves me for who I am?
I was surrounded by people being open and real about themselves, about their problems, about their fakeness, about their brokenness, about their questions, about their shame, about thier wounds.
This weekend I experienced fakeness, I expereinced hiding behind a mask, I experienced jealousy and frustration. I expereinced pride. I was surrounded by a broken people consumed witht themselves and what others think of them.
This weekend I experienced questioning, I experienced raw honest truth, I experienced the beautiful let down, I experienced struggle and encouragement.
This weekend I met an unfaithful husband, a released prisoner, a motherless son, a daughter scared of her father, a past drug addict, a past alcoholic, a confused girl, a boy hiding behind a mask...this is the body broken and on their knees in need of a savior. We are a broken people. We are fake and yet we are real about being fake.
This weekend I was brought to my knees in the realization of the pedastool I have placed myself upon. I came falling down in humble repentance and astonishment at the grace toward these aweful sinners: mostly myself, my pride and toward my own fakeness.
This is the body, we are human, we are broken, we hide behind our masks, we cling to our pride, and yet his love somehow penatrates all of this if even for a moment and our eyes are opened to see that we are all in this beautiful mess together. We are real with eachother, sharing doubts and secrets and wounds. We are beautiful and loved and real...and yet...so fake, but this is what it is to be human.
It is so cliche. I can't put it into words but it is beginning to make sense to me. Jesus actions and words toward the sinners, broken hearted, widows,and even me... they are starting to make just a little more sense.
This weekend I experienced contridictions, I expereinced pain, I expereinced loss and hopelessness, and I experienced the silence of God...yet in his silence he was there for his people were gathered in his name.
From my journal this weekend:
As I sit inside this dark room I long to empty myself as it is empty. Empty me of my desires that wage war within my soul, that trap me in their demands and empty lies. I want to be filled anew. Filled with His presence in a way I've never known. Like I've never known.
As I stare at the floor listening to the songs, the questions and the teachings there is a part of me that is confused, lost and unfamiliar whith what is going on. What is this thing I'm in? Who are these people? Who is this God of mine? Of mine? Is he mine? And who am I?WHat is this mess I'm living in? As I look around I'm relieved ...and content ...and hungry for more of this. I'm excited about this love. This love? What is this love? It is like I have 2 of me inside my head. Neither are wrong, nor right...but they are both very lost. Is there hope? Hope? What is hope? All I want to do is love...really love, and be loved. What is love? Love?
I want to seek but I'm scared of what I'll find (or not find). I want to trust but my imperfections hinder my desires. What are my desires?
He will not let me down? He loves me as I am? He knows me deeper than I? He thinks I'm beautiful? Who is this God whos captrued my heart, who loves me for who I am?