Forgive me, I can't see you...

Oh how I have longed to blog for quite some time now. So much has been going on with me. God has been masterfully at work on me in the last month. Through a series of unfortunate events I have been turned down for the second round of internship site finding. I'm sort of on round three now. I had to put off any work on it last week to work on memorizing the small catechism and reading a book and writing a paper for pastoral care. Needless to say, I did essentially no work this weekend and tried to rest. Peace finally came late Sunday morning as I sat on the bank of a lake watching creation squawk, flip, swim and sing about God's providence (talk about listening to the creatures waiting--heh heh heh). I was reading for worship class and it happened to be about preaching. As I sat there I thought about why I still felt so awful having heard the gospel ever so directly last Friday and just a few hours earlier. What was going on? Why couldn't God's Word reach me deeply like it had before? What wasn't I doing that I should be?

Naturally when one reads about Luther, one encounters discourse about the Roman church (hierarchy, structure and tradition are necessary to mediate the gospel) and the Enthusiasts (those who seek direct contact with the Spirit without the mediation of Jesus; God within-ism). It was in this section I read "God bridges the chasm...for people cannot appropriate the works of God by their own reason and strength." And later on, "God himself imparts the benefits of his redemptive work through the Holy Spirit." Finally the clincher, "As the Word bears Christ, so the Word bears us to him who has vanquished death, sin and the devil" (Luther's Works vol. 17, pg. 234).

What was I trying to do? To reach God and become a pleasing sacrifice to him. Yet God does not delight in burnt offerings, but a broken spirit and a contrite heart (Psalm 51). Certainly my heart was broken. So the problem? Me. I was getting in my own way. But I didn't realize it until I was sitting on the edge of the lake. I never want to be the problem. I never want to die to myself and be put out of the way because it hurts my pride and my self-will. What did I really need to do? What David did: confess and ask for forgiveness. In a way I was guilty (if you want to identify and call it that) for acting contrary to God's will. The bigger issue was my lack of trust in Christ's words about me. I had been listening to what me and everyone else was saying about me except what Jesus had to say about me. Yet my hands were bound and tied. I couldn't hear what Jesus had to say because I was so busy staring at myself and my disbelief.

Where's the irony? Friday after class I confessed because I knew it wouldn't be long before the storm looming on the horizon arrived and poured down upon me. So when the storm came and I finally pinpointed my confession at the edge of the lake, I basked in and reveled in the absolution which had already been given to me two days earlier. What was the absolution you ask? Christ removing, stealing from me all the things which I had made myself responsible for which were not mine to worry or care about nor was I able to carry or bear them. The cross had become ever so heavy and crushing. Yet it was not my cross to bear for Christ had already borne it and conquered over it. He never intended me to carry it in the first place. I am only to be about loving him, trusting him, giving his Word to others and sharing his love with them. This is why his yoke is easy and his burden is light.

The Holiness of Packing a Car

I helped my good friend Karen pack up her remaining belongings into her car today and sent her out of town to camp. There is a solemnity in moving your things out of one place and to another. There is a stillness that beckons around each corner and a nagging quiet as you touch each step down to the car. I am very sad and deeply grieved. I love my friend and I will miss her. Yet I grace her leave with joy and blessing because God is vocating her to a new location where her gifts, skills and life are needed more.

My favorite part of the day: giving her a hug before she left and sitting on the floor of her apartment as she blogged one last time and wrote me an e-mail to remind me to pick up her thesis from the printing and binding place.

To Bind Up the Brokenhearted....

The last week has been a roller coaster for me. I received news that none of the preferences I had put in for internship placement were granted to me. I spent last week trying to walk myself though grieving the loss of my plan for internship. That was fun. However, I did discover the beauty of Lamentations. I'm not so deeply entrenched in the valley of death now, but I'm still encamped on the hillside. The power of my old morose ruts keep unsettling me from my savior. What I ache for the most is something to ground me. I walk around each day with waves of emotion dividing me between the agony of an anxious, pained, unsettled grief and the knowledge of the hope that already belongs to me in Christ. I find myself in a situation of which I cannot preach myself out.

What I'm still struggling with the most is that while this isn't necessarily a personal hit on me, it actually is. I was asked to go and discern what God was calling me to for internship. I did that and then I'm told, by virtue of not being placed, that it apparently wasn't the right discernment. I hesitate to use right/wrong, but I don't have a better way to speak about it. Did I miss hear what God said? Did the placement people not hear properly? Perhaps we both did and yet evil still thwarted God's work. I realize that sin and evil are real (how ironic that the Spirit led me to inquire about evil in one of my class discussion groups before any of this even transpired), but I don't have the tools to work that belief into an understanding of what's going on now that brings me healing.

I titled this post based on Isaiah 61:1-3 and Luke 4:17-21. Bind up my heart oh Lord. Save me from this pit and recreate my life. Breathe new life into me. Heal my wounds, deep and raw.