My Weak Journeys
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9
For years I have struggled with the journey from sitting, (or kneeling or standing) in the beautiful presence of God and then back into the regular world. It is very hard to carry the peace and joy that fill my heart and soul into the mundane, let alone the ridiculous. Several years ago my family attended a church with an excellent mid-week prayer service. It was truly an oasis in the midst of even the most desertlike weeks. Many times I sat there in prayer or worshiping in song and I would think, “this time I am not going to lose this peace.” Or even, “this time I will keep my promise to God to be more obedient.” That service was the perfect time for reflection and confession. It was so lovely to sit in the presence of God and truly believe that this time I would not let go of my convictions, of my determination to die to self and live for Christ. The sad thing is how many times that determination barely made it out the door.
The service was wonderful as was the church, for the most part. However, there were people there who could easily get on my last nerve. Maybe you like, as well as love, every person in your church and if you do, God bless you. Sadly that was not the case for me at that church. I did, however, have a lot of friends there. Certainly I could end up being nasty or at the very least judgmental toward the people I didn’t care for but my friends could bring out the gossip in me. You know what I’m talking about the “this is something I would only tell you” statements. Those puppies are danger with a capital D! And there were the times when I left church or my quiet time determined to be better at something and those too met with failure, in a kind of the road to hell is paved with good intentions way.
So, for years I have berated myself for being so faithful, so unwavering, so reverent, at the altar and so quick to become so human and small as soon as the service or my personal time of prayer was over. I felt like a fraud. Frankly I wondered how long God would put up with me? (Mt. 17:17) I felt like those people who were looking right at Jesus Christ and didn’t get it. How could I walk away from such sacred times and into such contemptible or even just ordinary behavior? Wasn’t I made for better things? It wasn’t that I felt alone in my thinking. I’ve been in too many Bible studies where that very topic has come up, I just wanted better for myself. I wish the next sentence could be and now I’ve found it, but it isn’t.
I try. I do well for awhile and then slide backward. The journeys from the altar to the door, from my knees to my kitchen, from my quiet time to the next phone call, all are treacherous. I believe that God knows my heart. I believe that he sees the efforts as well as he sees the failures, but that he remembers the efforts while erasing the failures. Far from making me feel better that makes me feel worse. In the face of never-ending forgiveness I’d like to need that forgiveness less. I’d like to make it from the altar to the car, from the car to lunch, from lunch to the house, and on into the week, without having to think, “Oh, dear Lord, forgive me! I’ve done it again.” In the meantime I rest assured that God is still working on me and if he won’t give up, I won’t either.
For years I have struggled with the journey from sitting, (or kneeling or standing) in the beautiful presence of God and then back into the regular world. It is very hard to carry the peace and joy that fill my heart and soul into the mundane, let alone the ridiculous. Several years ago my family attended a church with an excellent mid-week prayer service. It was truly an oasis in the midst of even the most desertlike weeks. Many times I sat there in prayer or worshiping in song and I would think, “this time I am not going to lose this peace.” Or even, “this time I will keep my promise to God to be more obedient.” That service was the perfect time for reflection and confession. It was so lovely to sit in the presence of God and truly believe that this time I would not let go of my convictions, of my determination to die to self and live for Christ. The sad thing is how many times that determination barely made it out the door.
The service was wonderful as was the church, for the most part. However, there were people there who could easily get on my last nerve. Maybe you like, as well as love, every person in your church and if you do, God bless you. Sadly that was not the case for me at that church. I did, however, have a lot of friends there. Certainly I could end up being nasty or at the very least judgmental toward the people I didn’t care for but my friends could bring out the gossip in me. You know what I’m talking about the “this is something I would only tell you” statements. Those puppies are danger with a capital D! And there were the times when I left church or my quiet time determined to be better at something and those too met with failure, in a kind of the road to hell is paved with good intentions way.
So, for years I have berated myself for being so faithful, so unwavering, so reverent, at the altar and so quick to become so human and small as soon as the service or my personal time of prayer was over. I felt like a fraud. Frankly I wondered how long God would put up with me? (Mt. 17:17) I felt like those people who were looking right at Jesus Christ and didn’t get it. How could I walk away from such sacred times and into such contemptible or even just ordinary behavior? Wasn’t I made for better things? It wasn’t that I felt alone in my thinking. I’ve been in too many Bible studies where that very topic has come up, I just wanted better for myself. I wish the next sentence could be and now I’ve found it, but it isn’t.
I try. I do well for awhile and then slide backward. The journeys from the altar to the door, from my knees to my kitchen, from my quiet time to the next phone call, all are treacherous. I believe that God knows my heart. I believe that he sees the efforts as well as he sees the failures, but that he remembers the efforts while erasing the failures. Far from making me feel better that makes me feel worse. In the face of never-ending forgiveness I’d like to need that forgiveness less. I’d like to make it from the altar to the car, from the car to lunch, from lunch to the house, and on into the week, without having to think, “Oh, dear Lord, forgive me! I’ve done it again.” In the meantime I rest assured that God is still working on me and if he won’t give up, I won’t either.
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