Fitting Jesus in the jar

What a strange feeling it is, to sit in a place you love and know that all of your life makes sense on paper, but to feel so strangely out of place or out of sorts, adrift and at sea.  This feeling can mean a few things for me.  It can mean I have something I need to grieve, something I haven’t processed, or a dream that I am gripping a little too tight that’s causing me to subconsciously withdrawal from Jesus.

But sometimes it’s just that I miss my friend, Jesus. I wish He was here with me. I wish I didn’t let stupid things crowd Him out.

Weary and restless and ready

Sometimes, when I can’t pray, I write.  It’s a step that sometimes helps me find the thing that is stuck in my heart, the thorn that is keeping me from Him.  Sometimes it’s sin, sometimes it’s just confusion, sometimes it’s pain.

What I know today is that there is this restlessness inside my soul, that is shifting around more and more each day, making me too uncomfortable to ignore for much longer. Sometimes it feels like an ache, sometimes like rage, mostly like desperation.

Jesus or His bread?

I laid in bed last night and tried to open my heart to Him. I tried to tell Him what I was feeling and articulate what I was longing for or aching for but there was just this sadness.  A weariness.  So I closed my eyes and went to sleep banking on new mercies.

And here they are to meet me.  Not in the way I would prefer, which is waking up feeling good and clear and excited about the week ahead.

Why do we suck at forgiveness?

I was watching a reality TV show last week and there was a woman on the episode who kept telling another woman she had forgiven her and that she loved her even though it was so obvious that she wanted nothing to do this woman because of what she had done.

I kept shaking my fist at the screen. I guess I’m a little bit weary of people confusing words with realities.  As if saying ‘I forgive you’ means we forgive someone.  As if saying “I love you” fulfills that command.