Reader,
You'll notice that I didn't express any endearment adressed to the reader or readers (hopefully) of this post. In fact, there is no endearment in the fact that I'm inviting people into my folly, my insecurities,and my ineptitude; however, catharsis tugs on my heart more than pride, so I'm lead back to the keyboard...hoping to bring glory and honor to the King of Kings who provides endless mercy and gace to a sinner such as myself. May His love continue to pour out of his wounds and into my soul.
I spent this past weekend in Auburn with people I love dearly. They are more like family to me at this point. They know a lot of my fears and struggles and still long, just as much as I do, for my life to be a mold in the potters hand. For that weekend life seemed to stand still. Any stress I had before I arrived in Auburn lifted off my heart. It's as if the events that happened over my summer are objects placed on a canvas, like a still image of sorts. Everytime I meet with these people I call family, it feels like we all assume the same position we had in that still image. Of course, life resumes and we go on, and that is when I'm reminded of my folly, my insecurities, and my ineptitude. The weight of sin falls heavily upon my heart.
I drove. I drove with a heavy heart-This is where the story gets thick, revealing the incomparable difference between the strength of our Father and the depravity of the human spirit.I drove. I drove through the back country of Georgia. A three and half hour journey that feels like it takes an entire day. I didn't have a map, I didn't have a gps, and cell phone service was at best scarce. All I had was a slim sense of direction and a couple of road names that I was supposed to look for. It was raining periodically shifting between a heavy down pour and a light drizzle. The clouds cast a gray shadow on everything around me. I felt lost, I felt alone, I felt angry. I was angry with the Lord. My heart was heavy with all this and I didn't know why. I spent an incredible weekend with loved ones. How could that not be enough? It wasn't enough because I felt deprived of the Spirit. I wasn't- I am not- where I wanted to be with the Lord, and I knew it immediately when I left.
I knew that I needed this time on the road to spend with God. This funk had to be sorted out immediately. I threw on the Passion soundtrack in hopes that it would help me sort out my thoughts. I guess I felt like singing praises would help bring me to a place of honesty and humility with the Lord. The Lord showed me everything I needed to know. This is what I know: meeting up with family from the summer put me back into the still frame that characterized my summer. The summer was a time where I felt one with God, where I felt one in community. For that one weekend, things vaguely resembled that one"ness" that I think we all had over the summer. When I left, it was like I had just removed myself from the picture again, revealing all the flaws and imperfections that are so vividly stained across myself. This revelation destroyed me. I could see my stains.
My camp directer, Brad Barnett, told my team that after the summer was over most of us would have what is called a "camp funk." This camp funk encompasses everything that makes us miss the summer, all the memories that remove us from our lives we live today. That moment on the drive where I could see my stains, was the same moment that I realized my camp funk. I realized the difference between who I am and who I want to be. I want to be stuck in the picture of that person I was in the summer, but I can't. I am a sinner. I talk too much, it's mostly unwholesome and not constructive. I hate this about myself. My tongue can start fires, and it scares me because I choose not to tame it. I disobey the Lord when He asks me to keep His word in my heart. I have barely kept up with my scripture reading. I disobey, I disobey, then I disobey again.
The amazing thing about the Lord's grace is that it keeps pouring out like water even when I think it's run dry. My three and a half hour journey was figuratively the manifestation of my walk with Christ. I was alone on the road, a narrow path, with no cars in sight. The rain was my anger and confusion. I was a little lost with only a sense of direction. The Lord showed me, in every way possible, that He wanted me in there to show me His majesty, His power, and His grace. I am a life in the potters hand. I recognize, now, that my camp funk isn't a bad thing. It doesn't allow me to settle for anything less than what the Lord requires of me. Act Justly, Love mercy, and walk humbly with my God. I know when I am not doing this because I know how it felt at one point or another. My life isn't a still picture frame, but it is a moving picture that will hopefully one day display the glory of our Father. He showed me in every way that weekend that it is only by His grace alone that I will ever live the life I am called to.
-Alex
