About Me

Hey there! I'm a twenty-three year old Jesus follower, and this blog is to record all of the goings-on in my life within the next months. I recently broke both of my legs, and feel God leading me to tell my story - a story of redemption and grace, of hope and pain, of excitment and fear. May you be deeply blessed as you read. Shalom!

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Clingy.

It is pouring rain outside as I type this.  It seems a tad surreal - this may quite possibly be the last rainstorm of 2011.  From here on out, it is more than likely to be white fluffy stuff that mysteriously falls from the sky.

I was just microwaving my Sweet and Spicy tea (Good Earth - if you haven't tried it before, let me know and I'll personally deliver some to you.  Oh.  It's joy in a cup.)  There are these little sayings that come on the back of every tag, similar to the bottom of a Snapple cap.  (Who comes up with this stuff anyway?  I would LOVE to be a random fact spewer for a living.  Wouldn't that be awesome?!)  The saying tonight was,  "He who is drowned is not troubled by the rain."  Apparently, someone wise from the Orient said this many years ago.  "Orient" feels like a culturally insensitive word, so I'm not going to type it again.

At first I was like, "What the heck is that supposed to mean?  If I die, I don't have to worry about anything ever again?"  (I can't believe how much time I waste in my life trying to figure out stupid phrases that come in/on/with stupid things like tea.)  The more I thought about it though, the more I think I understood what it's trying to say.  When you go through a large ordeal in your life, (such as drowning, heaven forbid), when "smaller" things like rain come your way, they don't bother you as much.

I can see where this might be considered a wise saying, but I disagree.  Sometimes it may be true, but I think that it is the littler things in our lives which trouble us the most.  The day to day stresses (TRAFFIC), the seemingly menial things that trip us up oh so easily, the small glaces and snickers, the thoughts that we never seem to catch.  And, if you look at it from a positive point of view, it is also the littlest things which bring us joy.  A warm comforting touch, a smile from someone you don't know, a cup of tea on a deliciously stormy night.  There are so many joys to be found in our day to day lives.

It was this thought that I kept bumping into this morning while I was at church.  A song called "The Stand" was one that we sang this morning (if you've never heard it go here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6suBrSFaiM), and I totally lost control of all emotions.  It's the song I was most excited to sing once I could actually stand, and it was the song that I sung when I did.  It was the song that we sung this morning, and it will be the one I sing all week.

Eventually I ended up in the bathroom, which you may think is a strange place to go during a church service (and a place I talk a lot about), but the bathroom is the place I go to to be alone with God in public places.  If you think about it, it is the only place one can go, shut a door, and have complete privacy.  So I'm sitting there after singing about actually STANDING before a God who gave everything, and how I surrender everything to him, and I'm just sobbing.  I couldn't stop!  It was so humiliating!  But there I was, puffy-eyed, my bright splotchy face and brightened pimples in all their glory. 

The first thing I thought about was how I forgot that I wasn't standing up six months ago.  The second thing I thought about was how sad I am that I can't run anymore.  Then I was frustrated with myself for crying about myself.  Then I was weeping because I can't believe how faithful God has been to me throughout my life, and throughout the last year, and how I have been able to cling to him through so much.

To make my eyeballs worse, the sermon this morning was about how a gardener tends a grapevine.  I feel like the last year has been a HUGE pruning process for me, and as such, I was overflowing with joy this morning.  And pain.  Chapter 15 of the book of John is a section of the Bible where Jesus is speaking about a farmer's pruning process.  He starts off by simply saying that he is real.

"I am the Real Vine and my Father is the Farmer. He cuts off every branch of me that doesn't bear grapes. And every branch that is grape-bearing he prunes back so it will bear even more. You are already pruned back by the message I have spoken."

I used to be really freaked out by this passage because 1)  I tend to live in shame, and still suffer from paranoia from time to time, afraid that God will cut me out of his family.  And, 2) I do not like the idea of a farmer stepping into his vineyard, crunching the limestone with each step as he comes my way to cut me off.  His heavy boots squish the rocks down into the mushy soil as he eyes my vine up, and starts hacking away at it with a machete.

This is seriously what I used to think of when I read this passage.  Mind you, nothing in Jesus' voice depicts this image, but this was the image I had of the "Farmer".  Of God.

One of the things I have learned in the last year is how tender God is.  (This is not to say that I had not seen the gentleness of God beforehand; it is a constant theme in my journey)  I just can't get over how tender he is with me.  With us.  Jesus is not speaking these things because he wants us to dwell in a fearful place; he speaks these things because he longs to tenderly come and show us what life can really be like, as a joyful farmer awaits with hope that as he gently (and still painfully) cuts back parts of the vine, as though he knows of the juicy, plump fruit that will come in the next season.

"I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you're joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can't produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown on the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that whatever you ask will be listened to and acted upon. This is how my Father shows who he is—when you produce grapes, when you mature as my disciples."

I challenge you this evening - a real, honest, down to earth challenge.  (And no, I'm not going to talk about the bonfire in this challenge - don't be scared.  : ) 

In what ways do you fear God pruning parts of your life? 
In what ways do you draw back as he tenderly reaches to prune back your deadwood? 
How do you view the farmer as he reaches out to you? 
Do you recognize his face? 
Do you want to?

Jesus brings it all home in the end of the passage:

 "I've loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love. If you keep my commands, you'll remain intimately at home in my love. That's what I've done—kept my Father's commands and made myself at home in his love.

I've told you these things for a purpose: that my joy might be your joy, and your joy wholly mature. This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you. This is the very best way to love. Put your life on the line for your friends."

 I'm so thankful that Jesus put his life on the line for me, and for you.  That he loves us that much.  That his joy can be our joy.  As we step into this week together, may we cling to the promise of his hope for our lives - may he increase our understanding of who he is, who he wants us to be, and how he wants to shape us in becoming those people.  And may we be flexible and giving like soft vines, excited by his touch, and clinging to him as the pain comes.  And as it goes.