It’s funny how life comes back around in cycles. I often find myself in the same place, learning the same lessons over again which I thought I had conquered years ago.
I guess your own history repeats itself. Nothing really changes, but everything does. The universe is more circular than we realize.
And our inner selves are in a continual cycle of growth. Death to self and rebirth. Everything comes back around.
I find myself on the other side of constantly questioning my faith, back into some kind of simplicity of what it means to be a Christian.
I rejected that title for so many years. Not because I ever stopped believing or loving Jesus, but mostly because of the people, the hurt, the reputation.
I spent years rejecting the religious side of church in order to get free. And I did. But it left a void. Jesus was still there, calling me into grace, but often I let the my own cynical voice drown him out.
Now, I feel like I am kind of starting all over. These are the days of simple songs and words. I can’t stomach another blog post on what’s wrong with the church, the same words I used to feed on and write.
I find myself going back to words I used to reject because of the memories connected to them.
Basics, that I come to see aren’t so basic after all.
Love God, Love People.
Another freeing mantra that became a cliche. (Like all things do eventually.)
And this one, often:
Your strength is made perfect in my weakness.
It roams in the back of my head, always, leaving tire tracks in the mud of my understanding.
I say it over and over until I believe it and even then, it’s like I can’t fully comprehend it.
But I know I am so weak.
I feel this lately. Emotionally and physically exhausted. Just tired of feeling life isn’t going the way I thought it would.
I am so ready for a huge shift, a breakthrough, a big change. Something.
I feel like I am drifting with no focus or direction. I grasp on to something familiar because that’s all I have.
Jesus.
(Maybe this is the point.)
I think about how in less than 3 months my body will release my son, and we’ll get to meet him for the first time.
I am excited, terrified, in awe, unprepared.
My mind goes back to those scattered moments of my daughter’s birth nearly three years ago.
The intensity and prayer. The feelings so weak and so strong all at once.
Reaching the point of knowing there is no possible way I can do what I have to do, and then doing it.
And my daughter suddenly being in my arms.
Knowing I don’t think I could have done it without my husband being there as my comfort and my coach.
He never once doubted my ability or our decision to birth naturally free of any interventions.
I think of his words, his love, the pressure of his hands, and how suddenly, in the middle of my greatest weakness,
His strength became mine.
Then I remember a few days later in the lowest, darkest moment of our lives sitting on a bench outside of Cook’s Children’s hospital, our perfect, brand-new daughter hooked up to so many machines, drugs running through her body trying to help her breathe.
I remember my husband, this pillar of strength and faith in my life being so broken that it was like a physical punch in the face.
I wasn’t sure how I could hold him up in that moment, but somehow I did.
Somehow God’s strength never left me, and in the middle of a crisis,
I was able to lend him my strength.
And suddenly, I know this truth and it warms and heals me deep down in a place that’s been left bruised and vulnerable:
When one with someone, you borrow each other’s strength
Only I am one with the creator of the universe. One who is yesterday and tomorrow, light and love, power and strength.
And I know, all those words I memorized and whispered as a child that became cliche to me over the years are true.
True enough to shake the foundations of the universe and steady my crazy emotions and become real in every moment of my life.
With God, Nothing Is Impossible.
The Same Power That Defeated Death Lives In Me.
I Can Move Mountains.
His strength is mine.
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