Grateful That You Let Me Draw Near

It is Your face I seek,

As I bow at Your feet.

Your presence divine,

Your attention all mine.

What an honor to rest,

Snuggled close to Your chest.

My hand entwined,

In the one that offered the wine.

And drank from the cup,

Though You prayed to give it up.

Oh the pain You endured when bearing my sin.

I kiss Your palm and the scar within.

Your beard I stroke as I think of the pain,

To have each hair plucked amid mockery and shame.

The crown of honor You now wear, was not on You that day.

Thorns replaced gold, as my debt You paid.

I kiss Your cheek, where one who kissed it before,

Brought You betrayal and death, and Your heart he tore.

As my lips linger, in that exact place,

I pray that my kiss would never disgrace.

For I am aware of much of my sin,

My fickle heart and the selfishness within.

May I never add to Your pain,

And betray You again.

May my heart always rest,

Snuggled close to Your chest.

May deception and fear,

Forever cease to appear.

And may I always be grateful that You let me draw near.

Last night my oldest daughter, Lauren, and I attended a memorial service for a fifth grader. He was the younger brother of one of Lauren’s friends. His life was taken suddenly…by his own hands.

Suicide is always tragic, but when it involves one so young, the heart cannot take the pain and the mind cannot conceive the full extent of the loss. Loss of fifth grade graduation, middle school years and high school prom…loss of laughter with friends on cap and gown day…loss of a first kiss, a first love, a first job. So many "firsts" that will never be had.

Death robs us of so much. But with suicide, the robbery takes place before AND after death. The precursor to suicide is the loss of self-worth. One of the results of the Fall is that we constantly question our self-worth. Are we worthy of the love and affection we so desperately crave? Are we worth other’s concern? Are we worth their care? Are we worth God’s love? Are we worth our love?

Sometimes the answers to our quest for significance are not positive ones. Sometimes things happen and we feel worthless and insignificant. To compound the problem, our perceived insignificance is reinforced by the bullying of others, or by the thoughtlessness of people, and it is always validated by the lies of the enemy. So we can easily surmise a self image that is in direct opposition to God’s view of us.

Luke 12:6-7 says, "Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."

God values us. He deems us worthy. Our worth is not determined by the actions or insensitivities of others, but rather by what our Father says about us.

I pray we would all have the grace to believe His opinion of us. For if not, our loss is great. Some may, in despair, take their own life. Or others, may live in constant insecurity. A state that may not claim our physical life, but definitely lays claim on our abundant life.

The heart is a beautiful thing. It has the capacity to experience overflowing joy and agonizing sorrow. The later causes us to cauterize the pain with numbing apathy. For anyone who has experienced heartache, the temptation to withdraw and live on the surface of our emotions often proves too great to resist.

Yet the protective layer we place over our hearts becomes the barrier that inhibits joy and happiness. One cannot fully guard the heart while still allowing the good things of life to permeate the barrier. Oh, some things may escape through the checkpoint, but the fullness is dimmed.

I’m reevaluating my heart’s barriers as I visit my friend. She was born with a death sentence, as we all are. Yet her’s was more eminent, more absolute. I fear her time is drawing near. My cowardly self is tempted to withdraw into the busyness of life, to escape grief through the mundane.

But deep within, there is this longing for authenticity. A longing to be with her in the pain of it all. It is an unnatural longing, not at all self-preserving. And it cannot be satiated with the trivial and superficial acquiantences of life. One thousand Facebook friends could not substitute for one authentic relationship, painful though it may be.

So I take the step to enter into the pain and heartache of it all. My eyes leak and my barrier crumbles as the grief process begins. Yet amid the pain, there is this overwhelming sense of gratitude. Gratitude for a chance at real friendship. Gratitude for the moments we’ve shared and the moments we will share. Gratitude for a life fully lived and an unguarded heart that is fully alive.

My feet are firmly planted on the worn carpet, while the ground beneath this veneer flooring looms below at 30,000 feet. I look down upon the clouds and contemplate the view from above. Things seem more peaceful here, less hurried and stressful. No one speaks, save the stranger whose voice booms over the loudspeaker to inform me of impending turbulance.

In the jostling silence, I meditate on the fact that my life rests in the hands of a man whom I have never met. I do not know his name, nor his qualifications to pilot this craft. I never thought to inquire. I just boarded. One may characterize my actions as trust or naivety, but honestly, it’s just habit. The mundane, the expected response of the masses to follow, to board, to trust because you trust the system, not the person.

As I soar within this space of trust, I am amazed by the God who invites me to trust Him. A God whose name I know and whose qualifications have been endorsed by patriarchs, kings, queens, tent makers and martyrs. A God whose followers have mistakenly created a system of belief that vies for their affections, their allegience, their trust. A system, that in and of itself is not bad. But a system that was never meant to be a substitute for authentic relationship.

There have been times when my trust lay firmly planted upon the thin veneer of systematic religion. Yet, it was a turbulent ride filled with performance and striving.

Today, as I cruise above the earth, my heart rests in the hands of my Captain. I know His name. I know His touch. I know His love. I know He’s my Father and my Creator and that alone qualifies Him as trustworthy. I do not know the direction He will pilot this craft, or the altitudes to which we will climb…or descend. It is an unpredictable journey, but in this space of trust I am secure in Him. No system could ever grant me a greater security.

I like control, or at least the illusion of it. I like the security of a paycheck, a 401k, a roof over my head. I like the comfort of knowing that if you do certain things, then you can expect certain results. This ideology gives me control in a world that is anything but tame.

So it’s no wonder I was drawn to religion at a young age. Religion gives you rules with the promise that if those rules are obeyed, then good things will follow.

I like rules. They separate me from the lawless and simultaneously bolster my pride. They also supply me with an inflated illusion of control. If I’m a hard worker, I’ll be compensated accordingly. If I’m a good mother, my children will never stray. If I’m a good person, God will reward me. If I’m a good…well, you get the picture.

Life experience and the Holy Spirit have taught me that religion is a fraud. This awareness has forced me to embrace my own helplessness. I’m not as indestructible as I’d like to think I am, and I’m certainly not as powerful as religion once convinced me I was.

Things in life hold uncertainty and instead of fighting that truth, it’s become a reality I’m starting to embrace. Certainty and control are illusions. The only constant is God.

Unfortunately, there is one caveat to this paradigm. Although God is a constant, His ways are a bit illusive. I can’t speculate His next move, though I’ve tried. I can’t anticipate where He will lead me next, or what trials He’ll use to shape my character. His ways, in and of themselves, are somewhat of a moving target.

The one constant I put my faith in, is His character – who He has been to me. Who He has been when the tears flowed freely and no one was around to wipe them, accept Him. Who He has been when fear was overtaking me and He refused to let me go. Who He has been when my heart was breaking and His touch was my only comfort.

So to me, faith is the absence of certainty in anyone or anything other than God. A certainty based not upon head knowledge of God, but on heart knowledge. Faith in my Father and His love for me.

I’ve never thought of myself as a perfectionist, my substandard house keeping is evidence of that. My philosophy has always been that there needs to be at least a thin film of dirt over the furniture in order to merit a cleaning.

I suppose if one is going to be a perfectionist, they must be selective. I mean, how can you possibly achieve perfection in all areas of life?

I’ve been a selective perfectionist, choosing which areas are most meaningful to me and striving for perfection in those areas. The effort of perfection is exhausting, but even worse is the motive behind it.

I realized a few months ago just how depraved my motive for perfection really was. I wanted to be the perfect mom and the perfect wife so I could have the perfect family. And WHY did I want the perfect family???

It’s shameful, but if I’m truly honest, I wanted all those things so that I might incite the envy of others. Sick, huh?

I don’t think I realized the motive at the time. But you know how the Lord works. He reveals all those hidden, sick motives in our heart that we’re so often blind to. The action of perfection is socially acceptable, but in God’s economy, the motive for perfection isn’t.

So what’s the take away? Well, aside from the discovery that I was using perfection as a bait to incite the envy of others, I’ve also learned that as God makes my heart into His home, He is far better at house keeping than I am…

Boundaries are in opposition to my innate desire to please people. Who doesn’t want the approval of others? For some it’s a drug – Approval Addiction – and I’ve long been a user.

But this year I discovered that a quest for approval prevents me from discovering who God created me to be. If I’m busy trying to please others, I end up being who they want me to be, instead of who God wants me to be.

So I’ve instituted the use of boundaries to protect my identity in Christ. Some boundaries protect my time, others protect my heart and still others protect me from becoming a doormat to those who would leverage my Approval Addiction for their personal gain.

Now, I’m a recovering addict on a 12 step program to institute boundaries!