Speaking for myself, transitions are extremely distracting times. I get this strange sensation that I'm floating. In the midst of trying to focus on what needs my attention, I'm also trying to find a place to plant my feet. But the reality of transition is that it is a move to a new normal, and a new normal is never quickly found - atleast that's been my experience.
Perhaps that's why I'm feeling especially grateful at the moment. Because, despite my scattered and unorganized thoughts, my Savior still knows how to get my attention. I don't have to have it all together for Him to communicate with me. In fact, He has somehow mysteriously used the 'floating' to deepen His message all the more. Here's what I'm hearing ...
There is an undeniable theme of 'surrender' going on in my life right now. It started awhile ago but was reinforced this summer as I journeyed down the road of 'support raising'. With the intention of questioning God about what I was doing wrong (and subtly accuse Him of not taking care of me), I first paused to ask what Name of His I should use in this conversation. In 3 words, He answered both of those questions. He responded, "Call me Master." Conviction fell on me like a heavy weight. There was no denying that my heart was far from approaching God humbly as His servant, desiring only to do the will of my Master.
My 'Master' has been faithful to address this through just about everything, but there is one moment that has been so powerful for me, it's been hard to move past it. God led me to the Garden of Gethsemane (Matt. 26:36-46) and planted me there as an observer. I 'watched' the scene as I read it. I still haven't been able to find words to express what I felt. Overwhelmed? Silenced? Broken? Grateful? Those words don't feel deep enough. I found myself realizing that I was 'watching' the greatest expression of surrender this world will ever know. (Interestingly, the only people who could have physically witnessed it were sleeping!) Alone in the garden, abandoned by friends, Christ voices these words, "My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, Your will be done."
As we know, but should still be mentioned: when Christ says 'this', He's referring to bearing the weight for every sin ever committed (past, present and future) which takes Him innocently to the place of death. And this is where it began to get personal. I talk to God all the time about 'this' and 'that'. And when I do, I'm most definitely asking for 'this' to pass away. Just like Jesus did. But, my 'this' holds no comparison to Christ's, and yet how often (if ever) have I said with absolute sincerity, "I'll drink, if it's Your will."
If you've spent anytime talking to me these last couple weeks, you probably already know that I'm obsessed with a new song right now ("Beyond the Blue" by Josh Garrels). The lyrics keep stopping me in thought. One of the lines repeated in the song says "And let go, of all we cannot hold onto for the hope, beyond, the blue." Then tucked away in the middle of a verse is the phrase, "So take this bread, and drink this wine."
Let go. Surrender. Take this. Drink. These words keep calling out to me. I mean, they aren't just 'food for thought', they demand a living out. As I picture Christ in Gethsemane, the idea of following Him is taking on a whole new meaning, a deeper one. Christ surrendered to His Father, the Author of our story. Slowly, I'm longing to do the same.
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