You Have A Way

I'm at a loss for words, there's nothing to say

I sit in silence wondering what led me to this place

How did my heart become so lifeless and cold

Where did the passion go?

When all my efforts seem like chasing wind

I've used up all my strength and there's nothing left to give

I've lost the feeling and I'm numb to the core

I can't fake it anymore.

chorus:

Here I am at the end I'm in need of resurrection

Only You can take this empty shell and raise it from the dead

What I've lost to the world what seems far beyond redemption

You can take the pieces in Your hand and make me whole again, again

You speak and all creation falls to its knees

You raise Your hand and calm the waves of the raging sea

You have a way of turning winter to spring

Make something beautiful out of all this suffering

-Nicol Sponberg, "Resurrection"

Every day is such an experience these days that it's hard to keep up for myself, much less for a blog. A week and a half ago I got challenged by essentially my boss to truly rest before God.

I had no idea really what that would look like. When Matt asked how often and for how long I thought I could commit to the challenge, I said every night for an hour for at least until our meeting the next week.

I promise to you I had no idea what I was saying because I was about to pee in my pants.

Literally.

No, like really. And with that one swift move, God showed me a little about just how capable He is of humbling me into my rightful place. And every day for at least an hour I sit humbled to my core. I really don't know how to put into words how incapable I feel in this job. Nor can I express how awesome (truly awe-some) it is to feel so out of control. To feel so absolutely inadequate to the point of getting rawly honest in front of God and begging Him to do something with this life that I seem convinced will never amount to anything of real consequence. That I am certain will never be enough to be everything person X or Y wants from me. That I am sure will never be good enough.

And it won't.

The point of all of these inexplicable moments I've had with God, it seems, is to confirm these self-denying, incredibly hard things to believe about my life. The world will go on after I am gone, I will never meet every person's expectation of me or even be to everyone the uplifting, encouraging influence I want to be, and I am absolutely not good enough.

Period.

End of story.

To me that is numbing, like Nicol sings in the song.

"I can't fake it anymore."

I can't fake having the answers for all of the problems laid before me on Sunday nights or during various dinner dates throughout the week. I can't fake knowing God and I can't fake believing that He is enough for any circumstance.

How I act doesn't make God any less real or capable. So to act like I have my own lift together does nothing to glorify God. And I don't have to fake it. It makes God no more real or capable.

He just is. He simply can.

So comes the humbling moment in life when "all my efforts seem like chasing the wind" and I have to sit before God and let Him know all that I am not. Then comes the freeing moment when I realize that's all He ever wanted. All He really wants me to know is what He is. Because I can't change the winter to spring. I can't rid my life or the life of my family or the lives of the students entrusted to me of "all this suffering." Only God can make something beautiful of it. And only if I can get over myself and my inadequacy long enough to turn the suffering over. What has it ever done for me? Why hold on to it? Why hold the burden on for myself?

Why not open my eyes and realize that imperfection is not the period. It's not end of story.

He has a way of turning winter to spring.

God had a way. He has a way. Imperfection is not definite. As a matter of a fact, perfection is imminent. And I can have a part in it, against all odds.

What I've lost to the world what seems far beyond redemption

You can take the pieces in Your hand and make me whole again

God sent Jesus, He took away the absolute certainty of human imperfection. He came down and left with us, with me, His Spirit. The one that resurrected Jesus from the grave. That power is in me. That God sees me. That God cares for me. That God wants me to feel whole, not inadequate. That God wants me to trust Him. Period.

And that God is faithful. That God is my God. Here, at home, in Peru, in Brazil, in the classroom, in my time with friends, in the past, in the future. God.

They may seem disconnected to me, all of these aspects of my life, they may seem mere pieces of a broken life, the burdens of a broken heart. And some of it seems far beyond redemption. But God refuses to see me like that, beyond redemption. He just needs the pieces. He wants me to sit and watch as He makes me whole again.

Then I can talk about what He has done in my life, circumstances or no circumstances. Perfect past or imperfect past. Whether I look good or bad. It doesn't matter. Because it's not about me.

He has the way.

There is something so freeing about getting to point of not being able to fake a connection with God-- not being able to fake patience or love or joy or peace or kindness or goodness or gentleness or faithfulness or self control-- and instead beginning to see Him connect to me. To bring spring to me despite my fixation on winter.

He brought Jesus to the world when it was determined to remain fixated on itself. He has a way.

I remember my affliction and my wandering,

the bitterness and the gall.

I well remember them,

and my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him."

The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,

to the one who seeks him;

it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.

It is good for a man to bear the yoke while he is young.

Let him sit alone in silence,

for the LORD has laid it on him.

Let him bury his face in the dust-- there may yet be hope.

Let him offer his cheek to the one who would strike him,

and let him be filled with disgrace.

For men are not cast off by the Lord forever.

Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.

For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men."

-Lamentations 3:19-33

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.

What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord,

for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him,

not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--

the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.

I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings,

becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow,

to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

-Philippians 3:7-11

You see, at just the right time, when were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly.

Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare die.

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God's wrath through him!

For if, when were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son,

how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!

Not only is this so, but we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ,

through whom we have now received reconciliation.

-Romans 5:6-11

The crocus is a big deal to my Mom. This time every year (I was lucky to catch it over spring break!) she goes into flower mode, counting them as they blossom in our front yard, talking to them, encouraging them to grow stronger even as some of the winter weather lingers and threatens to thwart their development. She encourages them to mature to beauty despite the odds.

It wasn't until recently that I found out why the appearance of the crocus inspires her so, year after year-- it was the flower someone delivered to her family after her Dad died when she was college-aged. He died in December and for Mom there was no sign that spring would soon come. The crocus blossoming was one sure sign that life was going on, that beauty would come about despite the odds during an extremely dark time.

Her Dad's name was Benford Truett.

Turns out we're going to have another Truett in the family soon.

Turns out God has a way of turning winter to spring.

And if it means I look outside of my right mind to whomever, I'll praise God for and encourage along manifestations of that promise. In myself, in my friends, in my family, in my interns... in the flowers, for God's sake.

Because He has a way.