Two things I don’t thank God for

I like this Thanksgiving thing. I like the idea of specific days when you remember and reflect and consider and thank.

I always start my thanksgiving in the usual obvious place: being thankful to God.  I thank God for all that He has given to me, for all that He has done in me; through me.

You know what I realized this morning as I was reading Luke 22?  There are a couple of things I don’t tend to thank God for:

  1. I don’t tend to thank Him for the painful conviction and broken repentance that followed the moments when I denied Him and exchanged Him for the fleeting pleasures of this world.

Waiting

He’s good at waiting.

He’s been doing it since before the foundation of the world when He dreamed this whole thing up.

Waiting for the fullness of time.  Waiting for the moment of redemption in a billion different stories.  He’s waiting now.

He’s waiting for me to turn back from the pigpen, waiting for my shadowy figure to appear on the horizon, waiting to fling up His robes and run toward me.  He’s waiting for me to turn off the TV and open the letter He left me to tell me to assure me that I’m not alone no matter what it looks like.

Fear

The fear is always there.  It lurks just below the surface prodding and pushing, demanding and dragging me places I don’t want to go.

I’m not afraid of death.

I’m afraid of life.

I’m afraid of waking up to a world I reject.  I’m afraid that the words ‘it won’t always be like this’ are hollow and void of any real power.  I’m afraid that the next bend in the road will lead me somewhere darker than death.  I’m afraid of being unknown, unwanted, rejected and alone.  I’m afraid that the next time someone asks me how I am doing I will tell them the truth and then I will have to watch their eyes widen and their face flush before I make a joke to relieve the awful pressure of reality pushing down on us both.

Consider Jesus

For the hurting, for the suffering, for those in pain today: consider Jesus.

Consider Him who was by His nature exempt from all suffering, who entered into flesh and pain and death so that He could look at you today and say ‘I know.’  Consider Him who had access to any means of deliverance, (which you and I would gladly take in our pain), and yet He walked steadily into a pain beyond any we will ever experience.  Consider your great High priest who has born your sorrows.

For the failures and the flawed, for those who feel the burden and weight of shame today: consider Jesus.

Go to God

Loving this:

Christ suffered the blind man to be most importunate and unceasing in his cries to him, Luke 18:38, 39.  He continued crying, “Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me.”

Others who were present rebuked him, that he should hold his peace, looking upon it as too great a boldness and an indecent behavior towards Christ, thus to cry after him as he passed by. But Christ did not rebuke him, but stood and commanded him to be brought unto him, saying, “What wilt thou that I should do to thee?”