This post originally appeared on my Tumblr in a briefer form. If you follow me on Instagram, or you’ve ever been trapped here (or with real-life me) you may have found that I have trouble shutting up once opening up.
Once, someone made a tiny field guide on me, and it was the daintiest, most adorable thing. It had silly drawings and just a sentence per spread (HA DIY-pro over here, jk not me)—things I liked, things that were simple, things to do to take care of me. I could think much further about digging it out from wherever it is in my room at 1:36 a.m. on June 22, 2015, but it would be productive as just about nothing is at this hour.
Funny to remember it in such a momentary whirly time of not knowing where I am or a bunch of who I am. That’s all of us on Tumblr isn’t it? All of us on earth? At the root of it, I don’t have any business looking much into it now, but it’s a good reminder to take the good with the bad, especially when maybe it’s not all so bad.
There’s a new Lauren Daigle song that begins:
Before I bring my need
I will bring my heart
What I first heard was:
Before I break my knees
I will break my heart
We get a little crazy in new American worship songs talking about fire (in our hearts, in our church, on this earth, not our house) or about breaking hearts that rubs neighbors the wrong way for a reason. Good reasons, yes, but also sometimes unnecessarily.
My initial assumption of the lyrics reflected an assumption of God’s character—that I who am a perfectionist and know it need to shatter that which I cannot separate from myself before I can come to Him. This is so untrue. I can’t create the confines of where His love can reach me.
Here’s where it’s BEAUTIFUL: it. just. DOES. He just does!
If you’re a perfectionist too, maybe you haven’t realized, or maybe you see repeatedly that we race to fill in the blanks for an impossible standard, one that still glorifies ourselves over anything else, and marks victory as a self-made and self-possessed, never-deteriorating treasure. That’s what I find myself doing, taking things as only black and white, tossing around regrets and wonderings like they must be settled, like I must be settled of what I think of it and that it must be right.
God’s best beauty doesn’t bloom that way though does it? The process I’ve just outlined is tense and assumably even, in blocky increments of checkbox change. I’ve made it extremely hard for myself, a literally sun-loving summer baby, to trust in Light in bouts of dark. Jesus, on the other hand, makes BEAUTY from ashes. He makes glory from our shame, turns us from our sins into immaculate joy if we fix our eyes on Him.
Back to that field guide, I don’t know. It’s funny to be reminded of such a token’s existence. Pretty grody, but, yes, I melodramatically fear sometimes as a baby 20-year-old that I could be too much to handle and not enough to have anyone actually wanting to spend even any time further with me. The focus is stuck to myself with enamel-rotting residue, harpooning at pearl armor that clothes and protects me as a child, servant and soldier of Christ. Soldier takes a very different (cough, biblical) turn than this conceptual prison I find myself shackled by.
I so easily slip into constructing my own world of judgment, where I forget just how much love has been lavished upon me, human and Divine, passing and steadfast—how much love I don’t need to be the source of to pour out to others.
Above all things, and high above my understanding, God is sovereign; God is sweet.
And if you liked that, be a friend to both me and you and check “Loyal” also by Lauren! SO good.