When I was around twelve, I had gone to the beach with my youth group for a weekend retreat. As we were throwing the Frisbee around, I heard a bunch of commotion coming from the boardwalk. When I looked, I saw this large group of twentysomethings laughing and pointing at something. It looked like whatever it was must have been behind where we were. I started looking around to see what it could have been, but couldn't find anything worthy of such hysteria. And then I realized what it was...it was me. Everyone on the beach and boardwalk had now fixed their eyes on me. It felt like someone had just punched me in the gut and left their fist inside me. They were making fun of my weight and how skinny I was, shouting and pointing for what seemed to be an eternity.
The only thing I knew to do was to ask for the Frisbee, "Jeff! Jeff! Throw it here." And then I did the unthinkable. I ran over to the guy doing most of the pointing and shouting, and I attempted to shove the Frisbee down his throat (well, I tried but suprisingly I couldn't get it past his mouth). Oh, wait a minute! That's what I imagined doing. Really, I just asked for the Frisbee to continue throwing it around to act like nothing happened. On the surface, people probably thought, "Wow, he handled that well." In reality though, I didn't handle it well at all. I allowed those words to define who I was and how people viewed me. Any time someone looked at me for more than a couple seconds I automatically thought they were making fun of me in their minds. This one moment mixed with only a few words and extended fingers had managed to destroy my self-esteem and self-confidence.
I think there are many people walking around like everything is okay. They are constantly looking for things to do and ways to stay busy. They keep trying to convince everyone around them and themselves that they're good. But they've allowed an event or a word to define who they are and what they're worth, and it's killing them. They've allowed the fist to stay implanted in their gut and the pain is unbearable.
Regardless of what we've been through, of what type of hurt or experience we've encountered we can be mended, the choice is really ours. But we have to put down the Frisbee. We have to stop pretending like it didn't hurt, that we've overcome it. We have to admit that we need our Father. We have to come to him desperately needing His needle and thread. And as He does what only He can do, He'll make us stronger and more durable than what we were before. More importantly, we'll bear the scars of being with the Father. The scars are instrumental in helping others with their tears and wounds.
To do this we have to believe that what He says, that His words are what really count. Sometimes we need to be still. We need to stop, so the Master Seamster can get the needle where it needs to be placed. We can't keep going, thinking that movement will some how heal us. Busyness is a cover up - a temporary fix that always pushes us to keep going, to do more. Because when we stop, the pain comes back again, and the only medication for this technique is to start running again.
How many times have you heard the story of someone who did something tragic, out of character because of something that happened way back when? I think we sometimes hear these stories and fail to connect them with our own. Yes, most of us will never murder someone or rob a bank, but are there equal tragedies happening or lurking in the shadows because of our failure to deal with past issues and bitter roots?
We can't experience the abundant life Jesus says we can have if we don't allow him to take away some things first. We can't keep running from the needle and thread because we're afraid of the initial poke. The pain that Jesus induces will always end with a more beautiful piece. If we're Christians, we should all look like we've been stiched together. It will make us stronger, and it will cause others to ask us, "Wow, who did that to you?"
May we stop running past the only One who truly knows us - the One who can mend us and make us more beautiful than what we were before. May we see and realize that tragedy isn't just murder and theft, but it's failing to be all that God intended us to be. Tragedy is the failure to hear the Father's voice because we've chosen to turn our ear to all the others instead.
“And I assure you that the time is coming, indeed it’s here now, when the dead will hear my voice — the voice of the Son of God. And those who listen will live." John 5:25
May we believe at the core of our beings that without Him, we're just a piece of lifeless fabric. It's His breath, His voice, and His power that cause us to move, to be and to become. It's His fingers that are weaving the intrical threads of our lives into a beautiful piece. We just need to trust Him and allow Him to do it.
The only thing I knew to do was to ask for the Frisbee, "Jeff! Jeff! Throw it here." And then I did the unthinkable. I ran over to the guy doing most of the pointing and shouting, and I attempted to shove the Frisbee down his throat (well, I tried but suprisingly I couldn't get it past his mouth). Oh, wait a minute! That's what I imagined doing. Really, I just asked for the Frisbee to continue throwing it around to act like nothing happened. On the surface, people probably thought, "Wow, he handled that well." In reality though, I didn't handle it well at all. I allowed those words to define who I was and how people viewed me. Any time someone looked at me for more than a couple seconds I automatically thought they were making fun of me in their minds. This one moment mixed with only a few words and extended fingers had managed to destroy my self-esteem and self-confidence.
I think there are many people walking around like everything is okay. They are constantly looking for things to do and ways to stay busy. They keep trying to convince everyone around them and themselves that they're good. But they've allowed an event or a word to define who they are and what they're worth, and it's killing them. They've allowed the fist to stay implanted in their gut and the pain is unbearable.
Regardless of what we've been through, of what type of hurt or experience we've encountered we can be mended, the choice is really ours. But we have to put down the Frisbee. We have to stop pretending like it didn't hurt, that we've overcome it. We have to admit that we need our Father. We have to come to him desperately needing His needle and thread. And as He does what only He can do, He'll make us stronger and more durable than what we were before. More importantly, we'll bear the scars of being with the Father. The scars are instrumental in helping others with their tears and wounds.
To do this we have to believe that what He says, that His words are what really count. Sometimes we need to be still. We need to stop, so the Master Seamster can get the needle where it needs to be placed. We can't keep going, thinking that movement will some how heal us. Busyness is a cover up - a temporary fix that always pushes us to keep going, to do more. Because when we stop, the pain comes back again, and the only medication for this technique is to start running again.
How many times have you heard the story of someone who did something tragic, out of character because of something that happened way back when? I think we sometimes hear these stories and fail to connect them with our own. Yes, most of us will never murder someone or rob a bank, but are there equal tragedies happening or lurking in the shadows because of our failure to deal with past issues and bitter roots?
We can't experience the abundant life Jesus says we can have if we don't allow him to take away some things first. We can't keep running from the needle and thread because we're afraid of the initial poke. The pain that Jesus induces will always end with a more beautiful piece. If we're Christians, we should all look like we've been stiched together. It will make us stronger, and it will cause others to ask us, "Wow, who did that to you?"
May we stop running past the only One who truly knows us - the One who can mend us and make us more beautiful than what we were before. May we see and realize that tragedy isn't just murder and theft, but it's failing to be all that God intended us to be. Tragedy is the failure to hear the Father's voice because we've chosen to turn our ear to all the others instead.
“And I assure you that the time is coming, indeed it’s here now, when the dead will hear my voice — the voice of the Son of God. And those who listen will live." John 5:25
May we believe at the core of our beings that without Him, we're just a piece of lifeless fabric. It's His breath, His voice, and His power that cause us to move, to be and to become. It's His fingers that are weaving the intrical threads of our lives into a beautiful piece. We just need to trust Him and allow Him to do it.
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