Conversations with God

Worth: A conversation with God

/ belovedbrokengirl / 1 Comment

She sat with her back up to the tree, feeling the vibrancy of life there.  She heard the grass whisper as He came and sat across from her. She gave Him a tired smile.

“You don’t seem as joyful as I wish you to be.”  There was a silent question in His statement.  She shrugged and averted her eyes. He studied her. “You still don’t believe your worth.”

She sighed and met His gaze briefly before looking back at the ground and picking a blade of grass to start splitting.  “How could I?  I’m utterly depraved, born into sin and evil. I don’t deserve good things.  I deserve your wrath.”

“Have I ever told you that?”

She shook her head and met His gaze as a tear slid down her cheek.  She read many emotions there; deep compassion and love, a great sorrow and even a hint of anger, although the latter not directed towards her.  It was silent for a beat as He seemed to be thinking.  “Jennifer, my beloved, tell me something.”

She loved how He said her name.  It was as if every time He said it, she was being made anew, recreated in a love deeper then she could even attempt to fathom.  There was a deepness to it that caused her soul to ache joyfully for something she couldn’t quite pinpoint.  She waited for Him to continue.

“Think back to the very first time you saw your children.  Describe for me what you felt and thought.”

Joy bubbled from the very bottom of her being and she laughed a bit, closed her eyes for a second and smiled, letting these scenes drift into her mind. “I remember Little Buddy being the most beautiful baby I had ever laid eyes on. I couldn’t believe the little one in front of me was mine! And I loved him from the very depths of my being at first glance.”  His eyes danced with joy as if He too felt the same way about her little son, and was pleased that she was so happy.  She continued, “And Baby Girl.  She was so precious to me.  I remember that she was crying so pitifully and my heart just broke with the love I had for her.  I remember stroking her cheek and whispering my love to her, and that I would always be there for her, and she stopped crying when I did that.  I knew she was mine and that I would do everything I could for her.   I love them both so much.”  She smiled warmly as she thought about her kids.

He grinned affectionately, but raised an eyebrow and said, “So would you say they deserve your love?”

She frowned thoughtfully.  “Well….that’s an odd question.  They haven’t done anything to deserve or not deserve my love… I love them because they are my children.”

He leaned back onto His elbows and surveyed her.  “So what you’re saying is that they are loved as they are, come what may, because they are your children, because they belong to you?”

“Yeah….” she was starting to see where He was going.

“Let me ask you a different question.  Remember the time Little Buddy got into some major trouble, and he felt so bad about his mistake that he told you that you should just make him go to hell?”  A great sadness rose in her chest as she remembered that day. “What did you think when he said that to you?   He had made a pretty big mistake, and you had every right to be mad.  What happened in that moment though?”

She closed her eyes, and fought back tears. “It tore my heart in two.  To hear him say that, and to hear how much he hated himself broke my heart to pieces.  I just wanted to pick him up and love on him so very much that he wouldn’t ever have to question again how worthy of love and forgiveness he is.  I love him, and even at my maddest, I would fight for him. Never against him.”

“Jennifer. Does he deserve my wrath?  Even if he never comes to me?”   She scrunched her eyes together and started crying. Cold voices shouted answers she didn’t want to hear. He said her name again, “Jennifer.  My Jennifer.  What does your mama’s heart say?  What does that fierce love in you for him say?”

She practically shouted as she sobbed, “No!!  He doesn’t deserve your wrath!!!  If anything he needs your love!!!  How could you make him, with all the struggles he has, and send him to hell if he doesn’t believe just the right thing?  How is that compassionate?  How is that unconditional love?!  I love him so much I could die to show him that, so if you’re Love, how could you not feel that way too?”

She pulled her knees to her chest, put her head between them and sobbed.  After her crying was spent, she felt him move closer to her.  “Jennifer….remember love…..”  Her name came as a gentle song to her heart, and she knew Him.  She knew God as Love.  In a flash, she saw him come and be born messy in a manger of scandal. She watched him love and laugh and cry and be magnificently human, and she watched him suffer.  She watched him brutally suffer at the hands of evil men, and watched him offer nothing but forgiveness in return.  There was no wrath of God to be found – only the wrath of men who couldn’t accept a God who loved so unconditionally.  She watched and cried as he died and she felt the weight of humanity’s sin against their Creator.  She had forgotten where she was until she felt Him brush the side of her cheek with the back of his hand.  She startled and looked into the eyes of her resurrected Lord.  Love had conquered even death, and turned it upside down.

She sighed and with resolve said, “I’m sorry.  I trust you with him.  I know you love him, and I’m really not worried about your wrath towards him.”

He smiled softly at her. “And yet, you worry about my wrath towards you?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Okay, point made.”

“Not yet, Beloved. That night that Little Buddy said those terrible things about himself, were you able to convince him of your love for him and his worth?”

She shook her head. “No, he couldn’t accept it.  He was so miserable too, and I would have done anything to make him see that what he believed wasn’t true.  But I couldn’t.”

He looked at her solemnly. “My sweet Jennifer, don’t you see? It too is your lack of belief in my unconditional, persevering love that keeps you cut off from the fullness of joy that I have to offer you.  There is no wrath from me, as you fear.  Just as you love your children fiercely because they are yours, you too are worthy and well-loved because you are mine!  Your inherent light and worth are created and guarded in my love for you, so that nothing you do or don’t do can drive me away.   I love you as you are, and will always strive with you.”

“But I mess up so often!”

“You are human, love.  Not meant to be perfect, but meant to grow and learn.  I’ve given you grace for all the falls, just as you give your children grace when they mess up.  Being human is not a bad thing.  I made you and I have called you good.  I delight in you and love you because you are mine, and that is where your worth is found – and nothing takes that away from you.”

She smiled as He pulled her on to her feet and laughed, “Let’s dance!”

 

 

 

Dancing Despite It All

/ belovedbrokengirl

One of my contemplative prayer practices is to dance with Jesus.  Every day. Twice a day if I can. I have a particular song that we dance to, and a particular place in my mind.  And it brings me great peace and has helped me trust Him more.

Some days, I don’t feel like dancing.  And that’s okay, because Jesus understands when I’m sad and I don’t feel like dancing.  On those mornings/nights He makes the meadowlands and/or stars dance for us.

But last night*, I was mad at Him.  My mama isn’t doing well and it looks like she may have to go to a nursing home at least for a little while until she can get back on her feet.  I don’t like that.  I don’t like that we are having to go through this at all. So even though I told Him that I was mad at Him, and I didn’t really feel like dancing, He insisted that I dance with Him.  He didn’t seem deterred at all by the fact I was pretty angry with Him.

“Why can’t we just sit, and You make the stars dance for us?”

“No, you need to dance with Me.”

“But I’m mad at You!  Why would You want to dance with me?”

“It doesn’t matter. I will always dance with you.” And He held out His hand in expectation.

We started slowly, and I started crying.  How can I dance when my mama can’t even stand?  The thing is, dancing with Christ always delights my soul, and I find myself laughing with Him in joy every single time.  I didn’t want to laugh.  How can I feel joy when my mama is suffering so?

I kept my head bowed for a while, because I didn’t want to look at Him. I can be stubborn when I’m mad.  But when I did finally look at Him, He was crying with me as we danced.  Anger made way for sorrow and grief as we continued dancing.  As we twirled, I noticed that the stars were dancing a long with us, and then during one of the lulls in the music, my mom appeared.  We took her by the hand and pointed her face to the stars.  “The stars dance for us Mama.” And she laughed with joy.  We danced around her as she laughed and pretty soon we were all laughing even as we cried.

Joy and sorrow are not mutually exclusive.  Life is hard right now.  I have found that rejoicing in God, does not mean that I feel happy.  Nor does it mean that my feelings of anger, sorrow, depression, etc go away.  I used to think that being a Christian and finding hope in situations and rejoicing in God meant that I had to feel good in the process. That I had to spout off hopeful Bible verses and talk about how I’m trusting God that everything will work out. Romans 8:28, right?  That I had to be encouragement to others even as I felt like I was drowning – after all, I’m a witness for Christ, yes?   I felt like I had to be strong to show that I was really trusting God and to prove to others that He is good.  Because me being okay in the midst of sorrow proves His faithfulness and is the kind of witness you want to have, right?  That’s not true for me though.   And I’m done with that.  I’m done with trying to fit myself into that box that just doesn’t work.  God doesn’t demand that, nor is it Biblical – it’s Christian culture that has shaped this idea. Rejoicing in God looks like me laying on the floor crying and asking Him why.  It looks like me telling Him that I can’t do it, that I can’t handle things.  It looks like me feeling angry at Him and railing at Him and throwing myself a good temper tantrum. It looks like me taking all of my feelings to Him and feeling them – inviting them in for tea with us and accepting them.  He has never once asked me to deny any of my harder feelings, nor shamed me for being broken with Him.  And therein lies the joy.  That He accepts me as I am.  That He meets me directly in my mess and will sometimes even sit with me in it until I’m ready to get up or until He makes me get up – ha!  He’s there.  God with us.  The joy lies in having a relationship with Him that is so pure and strong, that nothing can break it, even when I feel like my life and everything else is breaking a part.  My hope is in that relationship.

 

*I actually wrote this a year ago, and for some reason never did anything with it.  My mama ended up having to stay in the nursing home, and is still there.  But God walked with me through all of it, and continued to meet me where I was.