I sat on my bathroom floor tonight, and I cried and cried and cried.
I told Good and Perfect One how scary it is to think of going on through life when he’s silent when he wants to be. How it feels terribly alone. How it just hurt so bad all that time I was scared and alone and was seeking him to have him hide himself. I learned from the whole thing. I learned so much from it. My eyes became better. But it cut me deeper than I feel I can handle sometimes. And I’m not sure where to go from here, how to be truly vulnerable again, to be at peace.
Because I just really loved you, ya know?
Loved. Not that I don’t love God. But things are different now. I can’t explain how; they just are.
And somewhere in there I found myself spilling more and more words out. As I did, I began to realize a rooted fear and confusion I have.
I understand grace, as in works don’t save you and all that jazz. But I’m afraid I don’t care enough, don’t believe enough. And how in the world do I go about doing that? My heart is rotten. I can tell you that. I had to come face to face with that selfish beast in the Spirit’s silence this semester. But if my heart is rotten, how could I ever care enough to believe enough to be saved (whatever that means)? How can there be hope?
But what Paul said in his letter to the Galatians came to my spirit:
May I never boast about anything except the cross of Christ.
There’s so many things in life that are mysterious and the peace that came over me then is one of those things. It’s like something in my heart clicked. It’s not about whether I am faithful all the time or care deeply all the time or nobly submit to self-sacrifice or have all my thoughts in order. I want to, but I suck and can’t. What it is about though is that I don’t boast about anything except Jesus. I may not be able to boast all the time. But what is important is that I never boast in anything else.
I don’t understand the Bible quite honestly. But I do know this. I know Good and Perfect One. I know him like I know my Mom or Dad. In the strangest way I am convinced of it. And if Good and Perfect One tells me there’s something to this Jesus guy, then I believe it. Because I can’t help it. It floods me sometimes. And for the rest of the time, where it doesn’t flood me, when I’m freaking out and unsure, I’ll try to believe. At the very least, I won’t boast in any other hope except Jesus.Not that I would find rest in putting my hopes in anything else. I’VE TRIED.
I’m not 100% sure what it means to not boast in anything except the cross of Christ. But I know this is the beginning of my journey to understand. I know if it’s truth, it will show itself. It always does sooner or later. When I ask to see, God sharpens my eyesight.
Last night, I asked Good and Perfect One to teach me how to see. To see things how they are, to see truth. He said, “I will. Because there is no other way.”
I asked him what he meant, about there being no other way, and felt like he was sighing in a sort of solemn way. He didn’t answer my question, but he said, “It hurts to see. It’s bittersweet. Sweet as honey on your tongue, but it’ll make you sick. It hurts. But there is no other way.”
So yeah. Whatever that means.