winter

I suppose this will sound like most of my posts, but maybe it's because it's what God's trying to pound into my head (lovingly, of course). I want to write about seasons. I want to write about autumn. And winter. And the cold. And dying. And living. And learning. And the beauty that we all know bursts forth in spring, but also the hidden beauty of harsh January evenings.

Is death a beautiful thing - a beautiful process - because it doesn't have to be the end, because it can be a beautiful beginning? Death itself holds a mystery and beauty of its own, even before the buds of new life push through damp, brown earth. It's not so much death that is the tragedy - it's the separation that results from sin, the separation from the Savior. In fact, death can be the bridge between a hopeless existence and a brilliant new adventure, a love story, a relationship with a daddy, a friend, an all-powerful, awe-inspiring, incomprehensible manifestation of real life.

It's no wonder that we are called to carry our crosses every day. It's no wonder that we are called to die. As we die to ourselves - to the sin that separates us from him - we become lovely. We begin to radiate the colors of a God-led life. Life and death are one and the same - death becomes the doorway to newness. Yes, the winters of life and the death-moments that may seem tragic offer the chance for me and for you to give off our brightest hues. We have the opportunity to shout to the world that God is great and in the middle of dark, gray autumns, the gold, red, and orange of death offer hope. And in the middle of long, white winters, the sun looks brighter, the sky looks bluer, and even the snow - the element that seems to bring this death - gives off its own unique beauty, changing the way we look at landscapes we see each day.

If there were never snow, if there were never November, if there were never moments of hurt, lessons on forgiveness, betrayals, broken hearts, letdowns, disappointments, confusion, scars, and bruising, the life of spring would be meaningless - the grace of God would seem small. Maybe it would even seem deserved. Maybe we wouldn't even notice it.

As I look back on my own experience, I see how the big deaths - the truly painful moments in my life - and the little deaths - the daily choices I must make - have shaped me, how God has used the winters and falls to create something - someone - that is slowly learning to be beautiful. Out of death grows life, but even the dying is an experience to cherish, because it's the dying that shows me just how big God is, how much I need him, how much he loves me, how much I can't comprehend about this human condition. I can be thankful for each dying moment, even the ones I don't yet understand. I'm thankful that pain can be transformed to beauty. I'm thankful that death means more than an ending - that in losing myself, in dying, I'm finally found, finally alive, scars and all.

brand new

I read the Message version of Colossians 3 the other day. And then I read it again. And again. And again. When I personalized this chapter, I was floored. This is how I should be living. This is what new life looks like. I wonder why I fight against becoming new - becoming the Colossians 3 person? After all, God says I'm a new creation. Colossians 3 should define me.

This is something I've wondered about a lot. Why, when I've been rescued from this death-life, do I continually return to the old way of living? Why, when I should be repulsed by those things, do I find them so easy to call home? I've started to realize that I don't even like the way I feel when I return to self-destructive thoughts and actions, but I seem to constantly find myself digging a hole and then trying to burrow back out - "God, I've screwed up again. I hate the way it feels. I hate the isolation from you. I hate feeling so far away."

But God's been telling me something: "I'm not far away. You are. You're choosing to run, to trust other things, to do what you know breaks my heart. But I'm here, when you decide to come back. My hand and my heart never moved. I am a constant. The road back won't be easy, but when times are hard and when you're struggling to stay strong, that's when you get to rely on me. That's when you get to know me better. That's when you get to fall into my arms, fall into my lap, fall in love with me."

I think it's crazy how I can read passages like Colossians 3 and still walk this earth like I belong here. I don't. I'm a new creation. A new person. I'm wearing new clothes and have a new purpose. But really, I'd rather just forget all that and do things my way. I mean, goodness, God, it's not like you know what you're doing. It's not like you've got a better idea of the future than I do. Clearly, I can handle this on my own.

Ridiculous.

But so the way I live, unfortunately, the majority of the time. God hasn't given up on me yet, though. I think the fact that life just really stinks when I'm apart from him is evidence that he's holding out for me, that he's willing to let me suffer and do life my way, because he loves me enough to let me hurt. If I never hurt, if I never felt badly, if God held my hand the whole way in an attempt to show me his provision and say "Hey, the Colossians 3 life is better!" I'm pretty sure I'd never get the point. I'm pretty sure I'd just forget God, take the credit, and be a hot mess.

God must love me an awful lot to put up with my antics. Really. I am amazed that 1) He lets me go off and do my prodigal thing 2) He lets me get hurt and learn and 3) He welcomes me back. He welcomes me back. He welcomes you back. Isn't that thought enough to drive you to tears? Honestly?

As I think about the Colossians 3 life, I know that it will be a continual process. I know it'll take me a long time - a life time - to be able to truly embody it. But I'm thankful God doesn't call me to be perfect. I'm thankful God doesn't call me to be in control. I'm thankful God loves me enough to let me hurt. I'm thankful God loves me enough to hold me when I come running back. What a beautiful picture his grace becomes against the backdrop of my imperfections. What a mind-blowing expression of real love.