Saturday, September 20, 2008
Confessions of being saved- by Eric Parnell
So I was talking w/ Nico a bit this morning on facebook and she told of how she will blog as part of her devo's sometimes. That wording this for other people helps to form thoughts for herself. I thought that sounded pretty cool so I wanted to give it a try. So to the tune of Yann Tierson, I write
Confessions of being saved
When I think back about what has made me into who I am, crying comes to mind. I remember times when I would cry out to God and say please, form me. Shape me. Make me into the man that you want me to be. I would ask of him and he would act. Things would happen in my life that would give me the opportunity to become that man of God that I desired to be.
And now that process still continues on. In ways I have become that man that I desired to be, and I am starting to walk in these new shoes. But there is still a fight to continue in this way. I didn't arrive at some peaceful land of tranquility and happy bliss. There is pain that runs deep, perhaps even deeper than it did before because my eyes are opened to so much more meaning behind this life. And now I cry out to him, I have given my life to you, so I know that what is happening is you, so tell me what is it that I must do here? Why is this happening to me?
I am being beat down.
What I've known as “the way it is” I'm finding I may have been wrong about. The way I've always been, is not an excuse or a reason to continue in that behavior. Those thoughts and actions, the things that seem to be built into the support beams of my life, that are so ingrained into my being, are being identified as wrong. And I'm not talking about blatant sin, I'm talking about the inner development. The way I treat people, do I go outside of myself for their benefit or even in that do I have my own interests in mind? How do I think of myself compared to them? My motives, needing to be right, wanting my way, my pride. And they're so a part of who I know myself to be that to part with them leaves me a little bare. A little exposed. And pulling them apart from those support beams of who I am or how I am causes those beams to crumble. A crushing. It's real and I can feel it, a crushing that happens inside. It's very very hard.
And I have to think that this is not just because life is hard. That there is reason. That this being beat down can only be the potter's work. Pressing me firmly until I am soft and mold able. Because if I was to remain hard he couldn't shape me into the figure he purposed me for. And that is where I find relief, and I find strength. That he is responsible for this so there must be an answer, there is a good outcome in mind. That at the end of this hard thing I will be better than I previously was. It brings hope. Knowing that the pain lasts for a while but soon there will be new support beams that are built to last, and they won't have to be torn down again. That I will be stronger tomorrow than I was today.
So while life is continually breaking down, and things are continually dying, there is a seed that is planted in the process. And that seed brings new life, and the new plants do not die. Maybe someday I will be so full of new life, new structure and support, that it will outweigh the dying. That the dying will be here and there, out on the outer branches, but for the main part I will be a solid tree, like a strong cedar. I think it will come, the word of truth tells me it will, and I believe it. I guess that's what faith is. So I determine to keep going, to keep trying, to not give up. I will make it.