Pounding the Pebble

If you’re anything like me, the longer you try and escape from thinking about life and troubles by medicating with books, movies, cleaning the house (not really in my line), shopping, or whatever, the harder it hits you when you come up for air.

Last Sunday I was knocked flat in church. Our pastor was out of town and our friend, Michael, filled in. He’s not one to mince words; indeed, sometimes simply in talking with him, I start to feel uneasy…not that he’s judgmental or harsh, but he has a very blunt way of speaking the truth and an uncanny ability to really “see” straight to one’s heart. And it’s unsettling. Sometimes I wonder that if he’s that discerning, what would it have felt like to actually speak to Jesus face to face? You know?

Anyway, his message was bold and convicting. Quite frankly, those are my favorite kind of sermons because they not only reach my heart, but begin to chip away at any hardness that is daily attempting to reconstruct itself. This time, though, it was like a sledgehammer to my heart, and it seems I had a masonry to pound because I was in tears nearly all the way through. He spoke from the faith chapter, in Hebrews. Yet it was not faith he focused on, and since it’s been about a week and a half (and I didn’t take notes), I’ve lost most of what he said (sorry, not too flattering, I know)….BUT, what stuck like gum on hot cement was simply that I forgot.

I’ve been so busy just trying to make it through each day, trying to be a good mother, trying to keep up with the housework, trying to shuttle everyone where they need to be, trying to make it to church and stay even when I’m throwing up and having diarrhea, trying to make family memories, trying to work through trying relationships, trying to find time for myself to read and do things I enjoy, trying to love Jeff and meet his needs, and trying to just keep going (all of which I am not doing well)….that I forgot God.

How is it that one person can do all these things for Him, and yet, forget Him in the process?

When I was first in the hospital, I was surrounded by His presence. I didn’t have to work for it, I didn’t have to try, and when I came home, my emotions were so raw and this body so frail, that He was my only source of strength. In my weakness, I was strong.

But something happened a couple months ago…I don’t know what. It’s almost as if the stronger my body became, the better adjusted I became to my chronic diarrhea, the more I began to slowly rely on myself than I relied on Him, and I was slapped in the face, quite rudely, with the realization that in my strength, I’ve reverted to the worst sort of weakness. I’ve been short-tempered and angry with those around me and my heart needs an overhaul. I try to squelch the irritation and impatience, but I’m miserably floundering. And I haven’t even wanted to face myself because I didn’t like what I saw.

Some teenagers behind me at a Ranger’s game last week were laughing and talking boisterously which was fairly annoying, but when they started throwing ice at each other and a piece hit me on the back, I nearly lost my calm and let my tongue run loose with unrestrained fury. It took every ounce of self-control for me to stay rigid and face the front. I barely acknowledged the apology, and it took me at least 10 minutes to cool down. That’s not me. I’m not an angry person, and my usual response is to be too others-focused, to my own detriment.

Even after realizing all of this and confessing to God, the emotion still spills forth. I’m tired of the spiritual battle, I’m tired of the physical struggle, the mental strain, and the daily exhaustion I feel every night as I crash into bed. What can I DO about any of it?

Well, pragmatically, I can’t do anything to alleviate my physical problems, but I know if I can re-focus my inner lens upward instead of inward, I know that will affect the mental and emotional strain I’m under.

My faith is not in question here. Neither is my hope in eternity. What I struggle with is purely self-absorption. I daresay that’s the crux of most of our daily problems, yours even. Self. It gets in the way of everything. I’m in my own way. Sounds kind of silly, but really I’m the only one hindering the peace I seek. When we put ourselves before God, we make ourselves an idol, opening up the door for every kind of woe.

Have I gotten so sick of myself that I’ve gotten down on my knees and humbly asked God for his help? No. That’s pride, still thinking that I can do this by myself. Have I, like Hebrews 12:4 says, resisted against sin “to the point of shedding [my] blood”? No. Have I sat, deeply entrenched in God’s holy word, for hours as I attempt to seek out answers? No.

Have I cried out to God and confessed that I’m a sinner undeserving of his love and mercy? Yes. Have I poured out my woes and troubles and heavy heart? Yes. Have I admitted I’m ready to change? Yes. Have I let the cracking of the hardness around my heart commence to shattering? Yes. Am I broken? Yes.

Take me where I am, Lord, and lead me in the way everlasting. If there be any pebble left around my heart, find it and obliterate it. Make my heart soft and supple, Lord. Keep me from distractions, and let me be filled with you. Take this wretched self and move me out of the way. I want to be like Christ. Take this furrow between my brows and smooth the crease out. Bring back the joy I had in simply learning that I was alive. I want to remember.