9:16 a.m. - 2005-10-26
Wrestling with God Rant
A soujourner of so very few steps, I charted the same barren territory again and again. Pacing the arrid desert for some forty years. A four days journey made long for lack of trust in the One who watched in pain as I traversed the wasteland of false idols bearing nothing but an occasional fragrant breeze. Following the scent my ego adored, I repeatedly stepped into harm's way for yet another chance to make it real. Compelled to reside upon the oasis that predictably receded the nearer I drew, I strove the more, in rebellion to all I knew to be true. Ever courting the sow with my handfull of pearls. Squandering the treasures He had hidden in my heart, intended for the Kingdom, on the tedious masquerade. Having been expelled from Anthony's home, I bore a wound I knew I could not heal alone. A psychic limp to remind me that I had struggled with the Angel of the Lord and it was time to submit. It was a time of tears, there in my silver cocoon. There were days spent falling to my knees when a song would stike some minor key deep inside and my moistened carpet would shimmer with His peace. There were days when I rested in the palm of His hand. Days when a shaft of hazy light would break through the small room like a surgeon's knife, painful and healing. There were days I thought I could not survive. Days when choruses of demons boasted the litany of my sins against God, against myself. Days when I could not conceive of His enduring love for this recalcitrant girl. Mostly, there were miracle days. Days when the synchronicity of His lavish love met me at every turn. On one such day, in the sweet balm of despair, I reached for John and he was there. Humbly returning to my fractured life. Grateful to be back. He was at my side, polishing the reassembled pieces with a selfless kindness I could not comprehend. I knew I needed him and that made me nervous. Just as I could not quite receive the Master's touch for fear that I would somehow contaminate the holy, I kept my emotional distance from this man who offered himself so freely. This gift of God, never completely unwrapped. Certainly I accepted his friendship. On many occasions, I tried to love him. But always the leper's bell rung softly between us. I was spoiled. Contagious. Unworthy. John was patient, sure that with time my eyes would open and we would be together. Feeling vulnerable, I opposed his every opinion, challenged his choices, stridently chastised him for everything and nothing. The harder he loved me, the harder I pushed. I depended upon his company, resisting every caring gesture. I simply could not tolerate his unconditional love, His unconditional love. I wondered that he could not perceive the wretch that was me. Amazing grace. So many times found and carried home on the shoulders of the Shepherd, no sooner would I flee to the places that readily confirmed my shame. The prodigal, refusing the ring, the robe. Scrambling back to the sty for the comraderie of swine. So I lived a double life. I loved the Lord and knew that John was His way of forgiving me. Still, I could not resist the urge to test him again and again, to test Him again and again. To punish myself even for my unwillingness to stop punishing myself. It was a frenetic cycle I could not seem to exit. Even given his efforts, His efforts to absolve. I held my sins tight perhaps fearing I was no one at all without them. Yet my name remained inscribed on the palm of His hand and I was finding there was nothing I could do to remove it.
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