They Kill Prophets

Her words have played over and over in my head in the week or so since I sat across from her.

"It seems that in this area, like so many others in your life, you are called to be 'other', to speak, to be a prophet calling out from the outside."

I cringe every time the words come back to me; each time they sink a bit more deeply into my reality.

There's a truth there, but one I'd rather avoid.

She is a trusted advisor that I've come to know over the last year and a bit.  She listened as I shared, as I thought out loud, and then she gently called me to task.

"I don't want to hear those words," I told her.

Tears sprang to life, unbidden, and it takes me a few moments to collect myself, to continue.

"I don't want to be other.  It's alienating.  It's deeply lonely, this living on the outside.  It hurts."

We talk about this for a while, and she tasks me with the job of remembering those who surround me even in this place.

And yet, as the week has played out, it is the truth, spoken again of being separate that has stuck with me.

It's that truth that makes me ache as I ponder various facets of my life - as I consider the places where my spirit is being challenged to expand, to grow.

And it leads again to the conversation Jesus and I have been having for many years.  The one where I stop and look at him, disgruntled, hurting, annoyed.  The one where I ask "This too?  I have to be different, to be other, to call from the outside in this facet too? I couldn't exist from within the boundaries on just this one?  It wasn't enough that I was already separate in all those other ways? You're asking this as well?  Sure, being a prophet is a noble gig, but you remember, they kill prophets!  It was you who pointed this out to the pharisees.  I don't want this."

And it is quiet.  And then I remember, I remember this Jesus who was isolated, whose dearest friends fell asleep in his moment of anguish.  I remember this Jesus who begged his Father for a different path, not in a resigned, "I guess I'll do it, but I'm just checking" sort of way, but with a fervor that caused blood vessels to burst, that caused droplets of blood where sweat should have been.

And my separation, my wrestle, my questions, they're still not sated.  But I am comforted by the reminder that this road is one I don't walk alone.

Daily 5 - Day 32

This was a very full day. And one that I'm finding hard to put to words, even inside myself right now. Full of truths and laughs and realizations about family and place and belonging. And all of those things are leaving me struggling for words, and very near tears, the slightly overwhelmed, slightly joyful, slightly sad, slightly exhausted sorts of tears that at times sit just below the surface. But it is a day with moments of joy that must be captured, so I'm here, choosing to see and revel in them for a moment or two, and write down the daily 5 for the day.

1. The farmer's market with Mom's cousin M., and L.
2. Hearing stories about my grandma (who I hardly knew, since she passed away when I was quite young) over lunch
3. Leftovers for supper at mom and dad's house after church,
4. an encouraging email from a dear friend
5. dulce de leche banana cream pie
   

What if I said it out loud?

What if I said it out loud? That's the question that's been echoing in my head for the last few days.

What if I said out loud that I am absolutely, madly in love with this God who will not let me go, and that, despite that, I am also terribly, burningly angry with that same God?

What if I admitted that I just don't know how to reconcile this lover who has so doggedly pursued me in the last two years with the God who has stood by while my life has fallen into chaos and despair?

What if I said that I understand the hope and desperation that Job was feeling when he cried out, "I know my redeemer lives and in the end he will stand upon the earth, and though my flesh be destroyed, I will see him with my own eyes. I myself, and not another." And then what if I said that I find myself saying "the hope of those moments is not enough when there is a Jesus who spoke of life abundant on earth."

What if I said that I am nearly equally convinced and unconvinced that there will be an end to all of this, that I will pull through this space that has been so tormented, and that I will find hope and joy and a beautiful, full, rich life?

What if I said that as much as it makes me cringe, and feels like a regimented legalism, I think I'm being asked to simply check some things off a list every day? To re-establish some habits that have died in the midst of this space.

What if I said that I don't understand how Jesus can promise a life abundant, and then stand by while the enemy torments those who have offered their lives to Jesus?

What would happen if I said all those things out loud, say in a public spot, like, oh, a blog?

Would the world cave in or come suddenly to a halt?

Would I be shamed for being less than whole?

What happens if I say it out loud?

Just when I thought...

Just when I thought that I was perhaps finally, after months of wrestling through a particular dillemma, close to an answer. Just when it seemed like it was settling out in my mind and heart and becoming clear, just in that moment, 2 days in a row now, things have happened. Things that are badly re-muddying a situation that was finally clearing.

Groan. Back to listening and rolling things around in my mind and heart like one of those little steel ball games, where you try and get all the bits and pieces to come to rest in the appropriate slots.

Lovely...

I had a lovely evening.

I met this long-time blogging friend, and we sat for two hours in a starbucks and talked.

It's been a long time since I've had a conversation that flowed freely and easily about the important things in life. About something more than the surface things. A conversation that felt free and honest (at least to me - since I suppose I can only speak for myself...)

It was for me a much needed gift tonight, after a long and wrestle-filled week. A soul-restoring thing.

And, while she couldn't have known it, I realized driving home that it was also a redemptive sort of thing for me to have that sort of conversation in a Starbucks. I've loved the tea and a few other drinks at Starbucks for a long time, but Starbucks has also been very tied to many of the struggles of the last year. So many funny and deep associations.

I didn't really think about all those things when we agreed to meet at a Starbucks. I didn't really think about it even as we were sitting there chatting. But as I was driving home, I realized that it was a redemptive thing for me. To have that enjoyment restored (even though I hadn't totally realized it was gone.)

So I'm saying thanks, to my friend for suggesting that particular location, and to God who somehow orchestrates the things I don't even know I need.

Wrestling

A friend of mine put up this post the other day. We’ve talked about it several times since. Every time I look at the picture, and read the post, I cry, or feel like crying.

I’m inhabiting a space with few words right now. Few words and lots of wrestling.

I’m wrestling as I watch friends find healing, and take steps towards God dreams in their lives. I find myself wondering if I’ve been forgotten.

I’m wrestling with the overwhelming full and loud silence.

I’m wrestling with loving, and being loved.

Jacob wrestled with the Lord until He was blessed.

I’m praying for that blessing to come.