Did I get too comfortable to care?
When did love become unmoving? When did love become unconsuming?
If You're all You claim to be, then I'm not losing anything.
This has been the week (or two) of falling on my face.
I am a thorn in your crown. But You love me anyway.
I do this. I live a comfortable life. I think I can coast. And I try. But it's a battle, this life of following Christ, and coasting means that I'm ignoring the battle, pretending it doesn't exist.
I am the nail in your wrist. But You love me anyway.
Thus the falling on the face thing.
This week has been a battle. It feels like everything I've ever struggled with is crashing down on me all at once. I feel utterly and completely weak.
Which, of course, I am.
I am the man who yelled out from the crowd for Your blood to be spilled on this earth-shaking ground, with this sin in my heart tried to bury Your grace; and then alone in the night, I still called out for You.
You love me anyway.
And so I've reached today, exhausted, but full of hope and the promise of joy. Because in weakness and giving up, I'm no longer complacent. I'm flat on my face, but flat on my face before Him; I'm clinging to grace and finally saying, God, this has got to be You. I give up control I never had to begin with.
And I'm going to keep fighting. Fighting the urge not to care, and the urge to feel like a failure, and the urge to do go it alone. Because this is the truth God has whispered into my heart this week:
You are My precious child. Your weakness means that you can finally see My strength. When you fall upon My grace, I will hold you. You're not a failure. We're only getting started in this chipping-away process, this molding and forming and shaping to be like Me.
Forgetting what the world has told me, Father of love, You can have me.
