Tension

I feel like the string of a bow, pulled back to full extension. I expect much of myself and I let myself down frequently. I worry about failing my own expectations, failing at being joyful or truly loving. So the string is pulled tighter.

I feel freedom when I'm in a good place, but I inevitably decline into a selfish, anxious state. Then again, I have a feeling that a lot of those moments when I think I have failed are falsely constructed in my fleeting, butterfly thoughts. How do I distinguish if my attitudes, actions, motives, and ultimately my life is going in a beneficial direction? How do I know if I'm deceiving myself?

It is impossible to rest in this mental tension.

Sometimes I equate my level of excitement to a degree of importance far higher than should be the case. Somehow, when I am sad or even just feeling tired and quiet, I feel bad about myself--like I'm doing something wrong. Like I'm not being who I should be. Like the world will look at me and shake its head and not understand my silence. I'll be labeled in a way I don't want--I may even be less loved. I want release from the tension of these deceptive thoughts.

And so I love those moments of freedom, when the arrow finally springs from the bow. Whether the arrow hits my intended target or not, I am content, I am confident. 

May the tension dissolve . . . help me, God to understand when my expectations are faulty and to fully enjoy being me, in the joy, in the sorrow, in the loud, in the quiet, in the weird and hilarious, in the solemn and serious.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.

- Galatians 5:1

Incorruptible

¹⁶ For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either. ¹⁷ And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. ¹⁸ Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. ¹⁹ If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.

-1 Corinthians 15:16-19

I was thinking today. Yeah, I know--dangerous stuff. No, but really. I was thinking about a lot of things--dangerous topics for me, but I refused to rebuke them. I thought (in general, not specific instances) about what might happen, what  probably will happen, and what most certainly will happen to me/friends/family in the span of however many years I live. Guess what? I got worried. I got sad. I got feeling like life is too hard for me to handle. Knowing that my thoughts would take me to this point, I felt ridiculously predictable.

At times I feel hopeless, and I say I have no hope. There's proof enough on this blog, for crying out loud. The topic of hope probably takes up more than half my posts on here. The lie could not be more obvious. I don't even know what hopelessness looks like. I, who grew up with a strong Christian family, came to Christ at a young age, and have been discipled all my life do not understand real hopelessness. I have always known, if not fully believed, that there is a God who created humankind, who saved me from the consequences of rebellion, and who, as Father, Shepherd, and King, leads me through this tragic comedy of life. I have never lost someone who did not know Christ and is therefore eternally condemned (which I'm sure is a truly hopeless feeling.) Hopelessness takes many forms and corrupts many hearts, but the Holy Spirit has strengthened me (and all my brothers and sisters in Christ) with incorruptible hope.

This means that unless I completely abandon my faith forever (most likely proving I was never really a Christian) I am secure in Christ's death and resurrection. I am secure, thank the Lord! I must remember this truth:

Christ's work is the only security I can't steal from myself.

I do not have the power to "un-resurrect" Christ. Therefore, as Paul claims, no one can take away my hope.

So what is true hopelessness? True hopelessness, simply put, is not knowing God and the power of Christ's resurrection. Let's enter the life of a hopeless individual.

 Life is a short thrill ride that ends with a derailed track. The goal is to seek as much pleasure as possible and help improve the lives of succeeding generations. Friends hurt--there is nothing to see there but pain. Maybe you can provide them with a little comfort. Family dies. You'll never see them again. Maybe you get in a car accident and are paralyzed from the neck down. Well, you might as well kill yourself now, seeing as you're no longer helping society or gaining pleasure for yourself. You have no intrinsic worth--you must prove yourself to be worthy. There is no perfect love, no God that understands or saves you from this helpless state of being.

What's left when you die? A decomposing body packed under layers of dirt, and if you're very lucky, the memory of you and your work that will last among the living for centuries. Even so you will slowly dwindle into the realm of the forgotten. And guess what? You get the biggest and most terrible surprise of all. You were wrong all along thinking faith in God was stupid, and here you are suffering eternal torment. There truly is no hope for you anymore.

When I compare my times of "hopelessness" to a legitimate hopeless case such as the fictional account above, I begin to realize . . . I have never been hopeless . . . nor will I ever be. I don't need to fight for hope. Hope fights for me.

Blessings Abound!

In John 21, Jesus reveals Himself in His resurrected state to some of the disciples (not for the first time)  who are on a fishing expedition.

V4: Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.

This verse reminds me of how often I do not recognize God's work in my life. Rarely can I sense His presence. It is hard to know, to know for sure that it is He who is standing at the shore, calling out to me, and not my own wishful thoughts reflecting back to me from across a sea of mystery. Does my mustard seed of faith prove me a fool?

V5: He called out to them, "Friends, haven't you any fish?" 
      "No," they answered.

Jesus hops right in and starts a conversation with the disciples. I imagine the disciples are annoyed--wondering why this man cares about their fishing success? They're probably feeling whiney and embittered considering they've stayed up all night and haven't caught a thing. "Why is he talking to us?" I imagine Thomas whining to his neighbor in the boat, a yawn interrupting his speech.

Little do the disciples know that Jesus is setting up their hearts for another blessing.

As if He hasn't proved His love already!

But the acts of Christ are not exclusively about proving God's greatness . . . Christ loves purely out of who He is--the lifeblood and root of all love. God IS love (1 John 4:8.)

It's comforting to know that the trait I value most in this life (love) is the very definition of who God is.

Considering that the disciples don't recognize that Jesus is the one speaking to them, it is a wonder that they follow His advice to cast the net on the right side of the boat. Maybe they figure that they have nothing to lose. Maybe the disciples are so tired that they barely know what they are doing as they move the sad, empty net to the other side. Maybe they just want to get rid of "this guy" watching them on the shore, as if He knows them.

Well . . . He does know them.

Only when the net suddenly ensnares a multitude of fish (AKA when a miracle happens) do the disciples finally get it. The disciples could have attributed the sudden success to anything, but they had been around Christ too much to expect anything less than a glorious blessing from their great Shepherd Savior.

Similarly, I can attribute blessings in my life to my successes, to my rights, to the care of others . . . but ultimately, it is God who is working all things together for my good (Romans 8:28.) Why am I uncomfortable recognizing God brings every little blessing in my path?

I want to be so in tune with the nature of God's love that I have unshakeable confidence of His involvement in every single moment of my day.

Look what Peter does the moment he realizes Jesus is standing on the shore!

V7: Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, "It is the Lord," he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water.

 I want to be that radical. I want to break the norms of what is acceptable and be appropriately enthusiastic of my God who gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives gives and gives and gives and gives and gives and gives.

I think you get the point.