Light in the darkness

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, I saw AND felt Jesus. I was at the gathering tonight listening to the talented singers and musicians on stage singing songs to their God. All I was thinking was "wow! They're pretty good together." It's true, they sounded awesome! But sometime in thinking that, I stopped thinking. I began to see something. At first it was just fuzzy. Then I saw Jesus on the cross. He was looking directly into my eyes. I tried to look away, but as my dad always says about a train wreck, "you can't look away." (probably a bad reference, considering the topic, but it's what came to mind.) I looked and continued to look. I couldn't bring myself to look away. I wanted to. I didn't want to look at the mess I saw before me. I looked at his hands and feet and saw the blood flowing forth. I looked at his scarred back from all the lashings; some of them I probably put there. I looked up and saw that his beard was missing chunks. (I don't know if you know how it feels to have a couple of hairs ripped from your beard, but it hurts. And to think of a solid chunk being ripped from my face causes me pain...) I looked up and saw blood flowing from the thorns on his head. It flowed down into his eyes. Those eyes that I loathed. The eyes that I shunned. The eyes that I hated. The eyes that I wish would answer questions. The eyes that wouldn't leave me alone at night.

The eyes that I wish would just die...

I am speechless right now. I had to sit down. At this point, anything I write is probably going to be blubbery mush. I stared at Jesus upon that cross. I looked him in the eye and wished he would just die. I wanted him off that cross. I didn't want to look at him anymore. But he didn't leave. He didn't die. He continued to stare at me. Then I saw it. Forgiveness. Pity. Love. I saw it in his eyes. Those eyes that would answer questions in his time. Those eyes that would forgive me despite the fact that I wished they would die. Those eyes that stood tall in the face of death. Those eyes that never left. Those eyes that wouldn't leave me alone at night.

Those eyes that I wish would hold me.

This is the point where i realized that God really did love me. I realize this whole week that I've been wrong. This week, I thought God abandoned me. It turns out that I was the one abandoning God. I was broken. I could hardly stand, much less walk. If you want any back story on what's been happening to me this past week, stop reading and look back at my last two or three posts. I'm not going into detail here. If you're too lazy to read, all you really need to know is that I hated God this past week. My good friend Lauren Townsend asked me what I would happen if I was to die tomorrow. My response was one of bitterness, "I guess my body rots." I'm sorry for that.

I realize now that I was the one who ran from God. I left him. Lauren told me this. Not that I was abandoning God, but rather that He never left. He pursued. He wanted me still. I had hated him. I wanted him to die. I wanted him to leave me alone. He still wanted me. I tried to leave him. He refused to let that happen. He still wanted me. That was all the hope I needed. I abandoned him. He came to me.

He walked through the wall I built up out of solid hate.

It wasn't done there. Jesus looked at me with that forgiveness, pity, and love, and said "I did this for you. Why don't you want to accept that? I will not leave you. Why do you run? I love you. Why don't you love me? I am here with open arms. Why won't you run to them?" My answer? "I'm scared." I've been saying I want to come to Jesus. Why was I scared when he came to me? I don't know. But I do know that Jesus came to me when I could not come to him. I was scared to accept his forgiveness. I began this doubt of God with questioning whether I wanted to be in the arms that destroyed nations, that took lives, that shaped the universe. Now I still question that. But I know that I'll run to them because that's about all I can do right now. I've been to rock bottom. I've been to the point where I wanted the pain and confusion to just end. (yes, I misunderstood the suicidal part, if you decided to read.) I continued till I could hardly walk. I couldn't do anything. I realized I needed God's arms to lift me up. To bring me up from rock bottom. To say "keep going" when I doubted myself. To help me walk when I could not. In God, I can do all things.

Another one of my good friends, Alisha Kaub, told me as we were walking back to the dorms, "God's fighting hard for you. He's not going to give you up." I know, Alisha. I know. It's going to be a learning process. I'm going to be confused sometimes. I'm going to be doubtful every now and then. I'm still gonna have questions. But I can rest in the knowledge that God will continue to help me and answer the questions that I have.

Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.