Thursday, February 27, 2014

Meet Me in the Middle



It's way late in February and I'm wearing my funk tonight like a badge of honor.
It's here, ya'lls. I'm owning it.

I can't say precisely how it found me, but then I remember that it won't ever stop snowing and my face keeps freezing off and most of our travel plans for the past 3 months have been thwarted and my family is too far and I have so much to do and and and... I feel like the funk makes perfect sense.

You know what? Why not get honest? Isn't that why I'm here? Isn't that what we all want most from each other?

Here's a short list of things I've been struggling with today: discontent, jealousy, greed, anger, impatience, selfishness, laziness, self-doubt, "the grumps", and bad hair.

It's been a real halo-tilter.

All day long I wrung my hands, then rallied. Then wrung my hands, then rallied.
Poor Silas, left alone all day with the likes of me.

I feel like God is speaking to me about some things, but I sort of don't like where the conversation is going, and I don't want to put the time and attention into really listening. Because then what? Then I have a choice to make, that's what. So instead of sitting down to talk, I keep whining about what isn't even clear to begin with. Classic Shannan.

So, just to be clear, my heart is full of crud at the moment. Lest anyone ever think otherwise, I struggle by the hour to tamp down my sinfulness. And that's on a good day.

I want nothing more than to be near to God, but I expect him to somehow make that happen by osmosis or another miraculous work of his hand. I want to fill all my hours with every unnecessary thing until demands and inconsistencies meets the rim and splash down over the sides. I clearly want to trudge to bed each night in complete exhaustion, wearing the palest shade of grief. I want to fight my very life, this high calling to slow down and pay attention. I want what I want. I want my plans to succeed. I want to run shamelessly away from obedience then blame God for not running even faster. Here's my water, God. Turn me into wine.

It's no coincidence that I'm waging war with myself right now. The timing couldn't be better.
Though it's fighting to outlast my will, all clenched fists and gritting teeth, Winter's days are numbered. And with their end, Spring.

But smack dab in-between, resting right in the cleft of now and then, is Lent.
It's new to me, but I can hear it calling.

I'm desperate to lose myself. I'm so dang tired of my own dreary company.
I'm sick of rationalizing my decisions and even confronting my sin has lost its luster.

I just want more.
All I want is less.

It's time to sort some of this out.

Thanks for listening, friends. I can't see all your faces, but I have a clear picture of who you are, and you make me better. We take turns being broken, right? We always tell the truth.

Whatever your truth is tonight, whatever it is you need to face, just know I'm nudging you to get down to business and do it. And know that I hear you saying the same to me.

All my love tonight,
Shannan