its good friday. its the day jesus died. its the day that reminds us that sometimes when it feels like nothing is happening, everything is happening.
he’s calling into life what has been hidden in death and he’s coming for us.
i can’t believe i’m sitting down to write. i can’t believe that i found the time.
ben has the little ones, but there is still other things that i need to do right now. there is a sink full of dishes with a hideous smell coming out of it. there is vacuuming to do upstairs. the floor boards have accumulated dark strands of dog hair like dust. my fridge is full of rotting food. there are tools all over my front porch. the budget needs managing. i have returns that are heaped up in the corner of my room. things i purchased online that did not follow through with their promise to make a corner of my home or wardrobe new and appealing. the bathroom isn’t cleaned either. there are yellow stains on the seat that have been marked by a little boy with poor aim. not to mention the things i long to put my hands to, so that i can come alive in leveraging my talents and abilities- so that i can prove to myself and to others that i can do something to change the world that i live in. that i’m good enough. there are pictures on social media that are calling out to me. harassing me. telling me i’m behind. and that my life isn’t curated enough. that i don’t travel enough. or have enough. or am doing enough.
and i choose to quiet down and write.
as i quiet down i breathe deep breaths of air in. why is quieting down so hard? why do we resist? why are we so pulled by an unforeseen force that moves us into accumulating for ourselves? why do we feel like we have to provide feverishly for ourselves? or for our kids? at any cost? safety, education, money–okay maybe we don’t want to be rich, but we want to have “enough” money-whatever that means, we want to provide ourselves with experiences, treasures, competencies and accomplishments. we forsake all else to do and to have and to become. it will cost us our lives. our moments. our days. our resources. our relationships.
and i find that i’m willing to pay that price.
admitting that sends chills up my spine. sometimes i move through the day in hypnosis. consuming. accumulating. creating. the competition is fierce, so i must work hard to prove my value. neglecting my own needs if i must. i neglect other things too… my self awareness. my emotional health. my relationships. my attunment to my kids, my husband, and the one who is with me always….my immanuel. Jesus with me.
i neglect attunement to my Jesus.
and sometimes i self soothe. i anesthesize wth distractions to soothe the concious and subconcious pain of loss, comparison, loneliness, and failure.
are we not tired?
i heard from jesus today and the sound of his voice felt like home. like breathing clean air. when i hear him in clarity my eyes fill with tears. the release of what i’m holding starts to accumulate together and run down my cheeks in tears.
he gets me.
he gets where i have come from and the western over-stimulated over-scheduled culture i am in. he knows what its like to be a woman and mother in my generation. he sees all that we are up against.
he who vindicates us is near.
what i’ve been learning my whole life about jesus is that he is so tender with our weaknesses. even when we run from him. he’s always creating a path back to him, wherever we go. always making a way. always advocating. always saying,
“she doesn’t understand yet what is compelling her and why. she so longs for validation and is so afraid of failure. and i get that. i wired her for being known and loved and celebrated. i made her for those things. she wants them so badly. and i’m coming for her. i’m going to give her those things.”
what if what we need, what we are looking for is already with us?
what if what we are looking for is hidden beneath the rubble of all that we have accumulated? what if we have created our own grave for jesus? underneath all the organizing and cleaning, under all the production, and the projects and plans. the new remodeling, underneath the accomplishments, all the taking care of other people and neglecting ourselves, underneath the money, the stuff, the pictures we have taken, the shows we are endlessly watching, under our smartphones demanding our attention with an endless abyss of information…what if what we are looking for
is here, with us right now?
what if jesus is with us already? what if he has already provided us everything we need and could ever want but its hidden in a grave of rubble? in a pile of all the things we need to do? all the things we have purchased. the beauty we try to accumulate.
i desperately desire to change the world. my heart cannot handle the loss. the refugees. the racism. the poverty. the sickness. the orphaned. the little girl i saw yesterday at the playground next to me with rotting teeth. teeth that have never been brushed. i wanted to take her in. i wanted to brush her hair.
i’m finding out that more than i want to change the world, jesus does.
except jesus isn’t anxious or frantic. he isn’t worried. or in a hurry.
i know with my whole being that jesus has a visceral response to our pain. and i know that he weeps with us. he sees that little girl i saw on the playground yesterday. the little girl who had rotting teeth. the little teeth that haven’t been brushed or taken care of. he sees her. he knows every refugee intimately. he’s acquainted with the marginalized. the wealthy- maybe even the spectrum of wealthy that over-accumulate. he sees the addicted. he sees the lonely. he sees the homosexuals who have fought to feel like they are known and at home. he’s with us all.
he who vindicates us is near.
he weeps with us in our affliction.
but he’s not scared. he’s not worried. he who resurrected spent hours on the road to emmeaus with his friends waiting to reveal himself. allowing anticipation to build. waiting to reveal the best news of their lives.
our culture knows little about anticipation. we claim what we need for ourselves now. we’ve robbed ourselves brilliantly of the gift of waiting with expectation.
the gift of anticipation. the waiting.
i’m digging in the great pile of rubble i’ve accumulated and i’m finding jesus who is alive. the greatest treasure of my life. and i’m asking him to teach me how to anticipate him to provide me with all that i’ve tried to grab for myself. what i’ve tried to frantically grab for myself and for the world around me.
he’s here. he’s got this. he’s coming for us. let our anticipation build.