Guilty.
This morning I’ve been thinking through the ten commandments and how I am breaking them. I know I’m unable to extricate myself. Remembering the thought that these commandments and those of Jesus in Matt. 5 may be DEscriptive of the life of the Spirit rather than PREscriptive for a self-imposed moral life. FAITH is what pleases God, not rule keeping for self-keeping. How dependent this makes me. Right now I feel I am occupying as though God took a vacation and I’ve stepped in. I want things to be in order while He’s away, but I’m not good at it. I want to leave the whole lonely mess and just go bomb His vacation/join Him, but who would pay the bills? I want security, and it seems He’s fine with being homeless. That part doesn’t sound like a fun vacation – or home life. But He’s bigger than me – what can I say? He’s the wise One in charge, the One who stretches us to our breaking points and beyond se we hopefully learn we can’t trust in ourselves. But all this stretching can feel like hemorrhaging when we’re tight and the baby is big. Hopefully there is a baby – one of promise. But some of my stretching doesn’t feel like I imagine or have experienced in birthing promise. It feels like the judge’s hammer coming down, and figuring prison is for life – dead end. All outcomes depend on the Judge. Is the Holy Spirit a probation officer? God, I hope You have more in mind than that! I want to be able to praise You and see chains fall off. I miss You. I miss the “purity and simplicity of devotion to Christ.” I miss Your strong assurance and the playful breeze that wakes me in the morning and smells like heaven’s cooking pancakes. I miss the satisfied communion of Your family after we’ve been filled, and the constant love and quiet anticipation of knowing Your tenderness is at work. Why now are all the prophets hoping big while the church meets like a theater, and a few present while the many observe in silence and applaud? Jesus! Where are You? Are You watching from behind that heavy stage curtain? When will You draw it and relieve us with “THE END?” I’d like to leave during the show and just have a picnic with You. Maybe we’d find some other stragglers, and You could tell us a story that would take us to Your Father’s house and whet our appetites for Your Kingdom. You are way more patient than I am. When I’m sitting in that theater, I’d like to pull out a pistol and shoot the ropes that suspend the heavy velvet. But then some broken heart next to me pulls out a kleenex to catch a tear, and I loose my outlaw nerve. But You and I both know this can’t go on forever. Strobe lights are too cheap for You. You prefer sunsets – different every night, and sunrises that stretch their rays like God-arms flung open for a hug. My wild heart is longing for the wild in You. Not the noisy wild that gives people a high. But the untamed relentless tenderness the lonely and suffering are kissed with. Known for love – that was Your promise. Where has my Beloved gone?