First, some confessions need to be made:
- I feel insignificant and meaningless most of the time (for
those in the know, that’s a “type 4” on the Enneagram).
- My feelings of restlessness often overwhelm me, causing me
to do anything to distract or numb myself.
- Sometimes I am triggered by what I perceive to be rejection
and betrayal from others, and these triggers easily overwhelm me, causing me to
spiral in despair.
- I often assume, without even thinking about it, that I am a
unique failure - that my life is the “exception that proves the rule” of God’s
providence, the one life he couldn’t do anything meaningful or beautiful with.
- If I allow it, feelings and interpretations of
meaninglessness can pervade every experience, conversation, activity, thoughts
for the future, remembrance of the past and experience of the present. Even the
most powerful and meaningful experience can be re-interpreted to fit this lens,
this system of assumptions and beliefs. I rarely enjoy holidays, celebrations,
vacations or birthdays for this reason.
- Even in the writing of this blog, I hope that someone might
notice and affirm me, all the while knowing that any affirmation I receive won’t
even make a dent in the restlessness. This brings sadness.
If you’re still reading to this point, congratulations! You
get to hear about my hope.
In the face of this “dark tide,” Jesus is teaching me
something that helps, something that turns the tide - something powerful enough
to even reverse the flow of the tide.
What I have found, over many years, is that pouring out my insignificance
before God - a form of violent, thrashing surrender – is the only thing that
leads me into a significant life, a meaningful life with God and with others. The
one place I find meaning and purpose is with him, in the midst of my
meaninglessness. Using every tool I can get my hands on and my mind around, I
pour out the toxic brew of my pain, anger and frustration and more often than
not find myself surprised that there is something even deeper, even more
fundamental to “me.”
Emptied out and broken, I encounter the good and holy
desires underneath it all:
I want to be known
and loved for who I am
I want to be
noticed, celebrated as unique, special and worthy
I want to love and
bless that which is unique in me and in others
I want to feel safe
The experience of “emptying out” and being broken is necessary for me to be able to touch these desires free of the burden of making
them happen. I can then leisurely sit with them in the presence of Jesus,
open to what he would like to do.
Through this process, amidst the barren, lifeless abyss of
meaningless restlessness, the presence of God-with-me births a restful,
peaceful hope:
My significance is
only found in Him, the insignificant God of the Cross.
Sure I knew that, but it took dozens of years of obscurity, hiddenness
and suffering to enter into it, to really experience it and begin to make it my
home. I had to taste a thousand dusty sandwiches before I could develop a taste
for food and water not of my making. I had to test God’s promises a million times in
dark places where dragons roam, before I could imagine myself cared for and
loved enough to walk into another land – one where the dragons are transformed
into birds, flowers, big skies and mighty rivers and mountains of soul rest and
firstborn joy. I had to hear and receive the gentle words of Jesus in a
thousand furious emotional hurricanes of rejection, self-hatred and despair
before I could realize that His words are far more powerful than any darkness.
I had to be held by God through a million free-falls. I had to practice the
presence of God through many flights into sin as I tried to silence the pain.
Jesus has never left
my side.
For this reason, I enter into every day determined to cling
to Him as He clings to me, no matter the cost. Sometimes I have no idea if I’ve
succeeded, sometimes I’ve failed altogether. He holds me still. His tenacious
hold on me doesn’t ebb or flow with my commitment or my success or failure; it’s
fueled by a far better source – the furious love of God, the radical and
offensive commitment of a prodigal God to love and make whole the most unholy
and broken people he can find.
The past few years have seen some dramatic shifts in my soul,
ones that have yielded new dreams sprouting forth out of the rubble of
shattered dreams. I am learning to live a way of life with Jesus that has
brought much life to my heart and the hearts of those around me. This way of
life could, Lord willing, evolve into a pastoral vocation if the people
involved were desperate enough. There are so many hurting people (like me) out
there, so many sheep in the church without shepherds, I long to help where I
can. We’ll see what God does with this insignificant life. He’s won my heart; I’m
not going anywhere.
O God, you are my
God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
2 So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
3 Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
4 So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.
5 My
soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,
and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
6 when I remember you upon my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
7 for you have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
8 My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
(Psalm 63:1-8 NIV)
