the lost cause worth fighting for
“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.
You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.
You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are - no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.”
“… What I’m trying to do here is get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving … steep your life in God’s reality, God’s initiatives, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out, you’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.” (Matthew 5:3-5; 6:31,33)
At the end of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, the Bible says he received a thunderous applause. What teaching! People were saying. So unlike the religious teachers! A man who lived what he preached! Bravo! The words were revolutionary by examining every hidden motive in our body, every deceit in the heart of man, laying it bare and out in the open.
Yet, I wonder how many of these people went back, and didn’t heed his words. How many truly rethought their way of living. How many loved their emotions roused and tickled for one day, then plugged themselves back into the machine, oblivious to his very counter-cultural words. Because, if we were being honest, I wouldn’t blame people for saying, “Awesome stuff! But impossible nonetheless.”
I read Jesus’ words 2,000 years later, and find the same reaction in me. How can I ever hope to live content in who I am, not reaching and grabbing for what I think is rightfully mine? How will I find peace in times of restlessness, comfort when I am lost? I live in a world that’s so self-centred, with voices that makes God’s voice seem so small. Will I ever love God for nothing more than just love’s sake, not for what I can get or use Him for?
I feel wretched. I feel like this year, I’ve abandoned him. It feels like I’ve abandoned all sense of his grace and mercy, his faith and belief, his presence and banner over me. It feels like I’ve lost battles after battles, allowed the heart to be squeezed dry of promises that should ring true, of a Spirit that should nourish the weak, encourage the frightened. It feels like, for all intents and purposes, following the ways of Christ is a lost cause. For me, for my friends, for the world around me.
I went back to servce today, after so long. Listened to the message, closed my eyes, said prayers, hung with friends. I was reminded that I don’t have to walk this journey alone. I feel that’s one of the hardest parts of learning to listen to his voice: that I’m walking alone, no one around, a fish swimming upstream. It feels like that so many times. That this spiritual journey seems so hard to share with anyone. And maybe, it should be better to stop walking.
But I want to be free. I want to laugh at the face of all the grabbing and surviving and “what’s in it for me” philosophy. I want to cut the strings that say I must live, look, act, talk, become a certain way. That puts labels on the ‘winners’ and ‘losers’, that tells me not to be content in who I was made to be. Deep down, I want to know what love is, to hope with every fibre, to have a faith that moves mountains, to hear Him whispering, to dance with gratitude, to not worry, to respond whole-heartedly to God’s gifts that keep on giving.
Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever learn this. I’m so stubborn, so forgetful, so easily distracted, so sensitive to what others think. But I know no other way. I rather fight for this lost cause, than live mired as a puppet. But the road to learning? So painful. So lonely. So uncomfortable.
I give up. I give up, because I don’t know any better. I think I know better, but I don’t Father. I’m so sorry God. I’m sorrowful over my lack of presence in your life. I’m sorry, because I can care less many times. I repent.
But Father, you are Grace. You are Love. You are Worth to the worthless, Salvation to the blind, the deaf, the dumb. You are present when I’m lost. You’re here when I can’t see you or hear you.
Lord, teach me to fight this lost cause. That I may learn to revel in your giving, in who you are. That I will give up the desire to live life my way, to be significant, to bolster my name, to not be guided and ruled and reigned. I don’t trust you enough, for sure, so teach me. Even if it hurts. Amen.
