Sunday, January 19, 2014

"And I will give you a new heart." | When we don't understand.


"Uncompromising trust in the love of God inspires us to thank God for the spiritual darkness that envelops us, for the loss of income, for the nagging arthritis that is so painful, and to pray from the heart, "Abba, into your hands I entrust my body, mind, and spirit and this entire day—morning, afternoon, evening, and night. Whatever you want of me, I want of me, falling into you and trusting in you in the midst of my life. Into your heart I entrust my heart, feeble, distracted, insecure, uncertain. Abba, unto you I abandon myself in Jesus our Lord. Amen." ― Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin's Path to God

I feel inundated in brokenness. More so than ever before. I don't know one person who is not dealing with tragedy, loss, heartbreak, or pain right now. It seems like every day, someone stumbles into grieving like a dancer forced into mourning and soon, the steps are forgotten, tucked away. Lamenting takes the place of laughter. We are part of a song, deeper and swifter than us, and sorrow shatters us into a stumbling refrain. A part, not the whole. It's overwhelming, encompassing. The brokenness we're thrust into takes over the story, becomes our story

I was up until 3 reading Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning until tears streamed from my eyes. I don't understand this, I don't understand the loss of a loved one, I don't understand the loss of faith, I don't understand the loss of a job, I don't understand illness, I don't understand divorce, I don't understand. But I do believe that these ugly seasons will pass. I do believe God is shaping something new from the mess we are in. I do believe God is a God of redemption. I can say that until my lips bleed but without trust, I am a Pharisee spouting words of the law to cover a stone heart, one that is lost and locked away to keep from feeling. It's simpler to live by the letter of the law. But to step out and say, yes, Lord. I believe you. Yes, Lord, I trust you. That's a different story

"And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." - Ezekial 36:26

This new heart we've been given does not guarantee a pain free existence. In fact, it guarantees pain. It guarantees brokenness. It guarantees hurt. Because this new heart we have is shaped after Jesus' own, and when he weeps, we weep. When he mourns, we mourn. So the loss of whatever it may be that we're dealing with goes deeper than before, because we begin to feel it in the character of God. We begin to feel things from the Father's heart and we see not from our own eyes, but His.

But when we live out of our new heart, we have a greater capacity for not only grief, but joy. When he laughs, we laugh with him. Suddenly, the good things are better than we could have imagined. Suddenly, joy is sweeter while we still dwell in sorrow. Suddenly, we can dance again. Stumbling, slow. There are faltering steps and falls. But we are moving, our blood is rushing, our lungs are breathing. We see through a glass dimly and we see brokenness more sharply defined and delineated. But with that, we see the chance for redemption, hope of wholeness, promise of resurrection, even clearer and nearer, because we are made in the character and image of God. And when that is our identity, everything changes.

So I don't understand. But I believe God is even now at work doing a new thing. He is in the business of beauty from ashes. I don't understand but I trust him. And I trust that there will be a day when we do not mourn, but laugh. When we do not weep, but sing. When we do not ache, but dance.

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