Just What I Needed

Have you ever attended a church service and felt that God was using it to tell you everything you needed to hear -- good and bad?  That God had maybe even designed the service with you in mind -- giving the music team specific songs to sing and the pastor specific words to say just because He knew that you would be sitting in the congregation that morning?

Well, that was me this past Sunday.

First off, let me just say that it is always a joy for me return to NOVA and worship in my home church.  McLean Pres has had such a formative role in my spiritual growth and holds a very special place in my heart.  Worship there is always so genuine and joyous.  The joy of the congregation is literally palpable -- there are times that I can't help smiling, it's so infectious.  Coming back to McLean always feels like coming home.

Sunday, from the moment I scanned through the bulletin at the start of service, I knew that God had intended for me to be sitting there.  From the song selection to the title of the sermon, "Humble Joy," I knew God was snapping His fingers and saying Jessica, look right here.  Singing the following hymn brought tears to my eyes as the words so perfectly encouraged my healing heart of the Lord's endless provision and sustaining comfort:

Though dark be my way, since He is my guide, 'tis mine to obey, and His to provide;

though cisterns be broken, and creatures all fail,

the Word He has spoken will surely prevail.

Why should I complain, of want or distress, temptation or pain?

He told me no less:  the heirs of salvation, I know from His Word

through much tribulation must follow their Lord.

Since all that I meet will work for my good, the bitter is sweet, the medicine food;

though painful at present will cease before long,

And then, O how glorious, the conqueror's song!

(John Newton; Kevin Twit)

As I've been thinking over the events of the last few weeks and my subsequent emotional state, I've come to realize that it would be only too easy for me to console myself with pride:  "He's completely in the wrong, and I deserve better," "Well it's his loss" -- implying that I will always be the better catch.  And while all of these thoughts may or may not be true, it certainly makes me feel better to think them.  They stoke my ego and stroke my wounded pride, building up this idea that I am "better" and deserve "better."  My heart has been wrestling with how to avoid and subdue this false sense of pride.  Its such an easy pattern to fall into, and one that I am desperate to avoid.

So, you can imagine how fitting it was to open the bulletin and find that the sermon was on humility.  It was almost like God whispering to me, I know what you need to hear, dear one.  During the sermon, our pastor walked us through a series of possible indicators of pride, and with each one, I made a mental check mark of yup, that's me.  What a stark look at just how prideful I really am.  As my heart continues to heal, I wonder why pride was one of my default emotional defense mechanisms.  Did I really think that I was such a great catch that he would love me forever, despite my heart moving on?  If I have no desire to date him again, then I certainly cannot expect that he would pine away after me.  How unfair of me is it to wish that I had started dating again first!  And I cannot justify my own healing process to myself as being the better, more mature, more responsible method.  I am not better than him.  Or her.  And as such, I have no right to judge either of them, even when judgement feels so easy and seems so.....deserving. 

Do not judge, or you too will be judged.  For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. 

Matthew 7:1-2

I can no longer keep telling myself that I am in the right.  Because I'm not.  Yes, what he did hurt, angered, saddened, and frustrated me.  BUT.  I, in turn, have not responded graciously, letting myself succumb to pride and feelings of superiority, especially in regards to her.  And in my pride, I judge them both.  Certainly this is not the model of love and humility that Christ has laid out for us.  Certainly the very least I could leave him in parting is forgiveness and compassion, and an apology for my ungracious, un-Christian behavior.  Compassion.  What if that had been my natural reflex in this situation instead of anger?  For me to realize that something must have been going on with him for this to happen and to actually care what that something was -- instead of immediately focusing on my hurt, my anger, me me me me.  Even if hurt and anger are justified, they do not negate the need for compassion and empathy.

If you are reading this, please accept this as my apology.

Returning to "Me"

Listen.

Slide the weight from your shoulders.

You're afraid.

You're afraid you'll forget.

But you won't.

Move on.

Move on.

Move on.

Walk forward [into the Light]

--adapted from The Poisonwood Bible

In the fall of my senior year at William and Mary, my sister asked me to be in a quartet piece for her group choreography class.  She adapted the words above from a longer passage from The Poisonwood Bible and had each of the dancers speak a portion of the text during the piece as we danced to illustrate a community rallying around a grieving friend.  Like the friends of Job.

And I don't know why, but the words "Move on.  Move on.  Move on" and the choreography associated with each phrase has been running through my mind all day today.

The rest of this post will probably be rather cryptic.

And that's okay.

Just wanted to give you all the heads up.

Something to listen to while you read:   Music from Sarah's Quartet Piece (composer: James Horner)

* * *

I have been so very lucky to be surrounded by stellar friends and family these last couple weeks -- dear dear hearts who continue to shower me with love, support, encouragement, and continue to speak Truth into my life, even when it is hardest to hear.  The Lord certainly gave them the words I needed to hear, and I have been so convicted by them:  "Jess, do not be bitter."

When more than one person tells you the same thing in a span of 48 hours, there is a realization of "ah-ha, this is probably important."  For me, this moment was when almost everyone I spoke with advised me not to give in to bitterness.  Why?  As one friend aptly put it, "Jess, that's not you."  And she's right.  It's not me.  I am not a bitter or angry person; I usually find it difficult to remain angry.  I needed, and need, to be me.  But I don't feel like me.  And being bitter is so easy, so much easier than processing the hurt and the pain.  It gives me something to hide behind.  But it's also blinding.  I didn't even realize how small I sounded talking about what had happened.  She isn't his little girlfriend; she is his girlfriend.  And he loves her.  And his decision deserves respect, even if I find it so very hard to give.

I never thought that there would be a time where the memories of good times with him hurt just as much as memories of hard times.  But now they do.  And I don't know when it'll stop hurting.  Sometimes I don't even want to remember and think that it would just be easier to forget.  To forget everything that ever happened between us.  But I can't.  These memories are a part of me, just as much as they are a part of him.  I hope he remembers.  And someday, I'll want to remember.

I want to move on.  I keep wondering when it will happen.  I think hearing the words from Sarah's quartet piece over and over again in my head is my heart urging me to move forward.  I'm so sick of the cycles of feeling sad, angry, wounded, frustrated.  I desperately want to be "me" again.  I need to be me.  Bubbly.  Optimistic.  Laughing.  Sunshine.  Joyful.  Excited about Life.  I feel like it was a million years ago that I was carefree and an abundance of laughter.  It was really just last week.

I was incredibly blessed the other night to stumble upon the notes of encouragement my teachers left in my high school senior yearbook.  Voicing high hopes for the future and commending my passion for life and thirst for knowledge.  Reminding me that I am driven and capable, and even more than that -- that I have been given gifts for a purpose.  Such sweet, gentle reminders of who I am, even if they are from so long ago.

I know that in all of this, the Lord is using it for His glory.  That somehow, He's using this to shape me and teach me of His almighty power and never-ending Love.  That His plan for me is infinitely more perfect and beautiful than anything I could have ever planned for myself.  Even if I don't understand how or why.  As my dear sister Cathy said last week, "We think our lives end at Chapter 7, but you know what?  God's story for us is 20 chapters long.  There is so much more planned for you than you could ever plan for yourself."  Or something like that.  I about started crying in the middle of the library.  Praise the Lord that I am loved by the great Author, the God of all comfort, and surely He will heal my hurts.

It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.

-- Sam, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers [film]

Every week needs a theme song

And on that day when my strength is failing
The end draws near and my time has come
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years and then forevermore

("10,000 Reasons" by Matt Redman)

Today in Paradise

As the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.  A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him.  Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children.   For the time will come when you will say, ‘Blessed are the childless women, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’   Then

“‘they will say to the mountains, “Fall on us!” and to the hills, “Cover us!”’ For if people do these things when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?”

 

Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with him to be executed.  When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him there, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left.  Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.  The people stood watching, and the rulers even sneered at him. They said, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One.” The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar  and said, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.”

There was a written notice above him, which read: this is the king of the jews.

One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.” 

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

-- Luke 23:26-43

Jesus went on to say, “In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me.” At this, some of his disciples said to one another, “What does he mean by saying, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me,’ and ‘Because I am going to the Father’?”  They kept asking, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’? We don’t understand what he is saying.”

Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me’? Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.  A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.  So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.

-- John 16:16-22