Ironies

I am a psychoanalyst's ideal patient.  With a four-year-old boy who insists on wearing his Batman costume almost everywhere, it isn't really surprising that I've been having superhero dreams.  I had this gut wrenching dream Sunday night about Emmett and I being superheroes together in some kind of X-men type of school where we couldn't talk, but he kept giving me the Vulcan live ling and prosper symbol which actually meant "I love you."  Talk about romantic.  Wow.  Apparently, not only do I have undiscovered superpowers, but I am a closet trekky.  Sweet.  My subconscious is awesome!


I have been having trouble dwelling richly in the word lately.  During the break, it was easier to quiet my spirit and settle into the rhythm of scripture.  With the start of school and Quinn having a cold, my time is more disjointed.  This morning, he woke early with a coughing fit, so I held him in bed and read Isaiah 5 out loud to him.  Not exactly kid material, but oh well.


After reading the letters of Paul, I've gone back to the prophets.  I wasn't really sure why, but I have found in these books a beautiful heart of brokenness for the nation of Israel that seems to reflect my own feelings.  Passages that used to make my eyes glaze over now seem to shimmer with brokenness and compassion.  I read Lamentations first, for no really good reason, and in it Jeremiah refers to himself as a man who has seen affliction.  I continue to marvel at how suffering of any sort, when accepted as the grace of God, opens my heart to truth.  As I read Isaiah's rebukes in chapter 5 to those who "run after their drinks," and "draw sin along with cords of deceit," and to "those who call evil good," I reacll Paul's reminders that I once dwelled in that life, and, but for the grace of God, would dwell there still.


I find myself as the school year begins, being constantly caught off guard by how the Lord opens my eyes to be compassionate by drawing me into the ugliness of sin.  At a very basic level I begin to understand how truly offensive even my smallest sins are, but then I find that awareness leaves my heart more gracious.  It is a strange irony to know how deeply sin offends my savior and yet to find that knowledge stirring in me a deeper love for sinners.  At the same time, the Lord is using the awareness of my own ugly heart to remind me that I am his beloved.  Just like Quinn's need to be held is most desperate after he has done wrong, so I also need the arms of my savior to hold me closest when I have most offended him.  I continue to wonder what kind of person I would be if I could see other people this way, as most in need of my love when they least deserve it.


The words of this song have been on my heart as a fitting summary of my thoughts and emotions.  I think I've shared them before on the Team Emmett blog, but they are worth repeating.  I'm praying this week for the weight of God's love to melt my pride.

"Hymn" by Jars of Clay


 Oh refuge of my hardened heart   

Oh fast pursuing lover come 

As angels dance 'round Your throne 

My life by captured fare You own 

Not silhouette of trodden faith 

Nor death shall not my steps be guide 

I'll pirouette upon mine grave 

For in Your path I'll run and hide
. 

[Chorus:]
Oh gaze of love so melt my pride 

That I may in Your house but kneel 

And in my brokenness to cry 

Spring worship unto Thee
 

When beauty breaks the spell of pain 

The bludgeoned heart shall burst in vain 

But not when love be pointed king 

And truth shall Thee forever reign
[Chorus]
 

Sweet Jesus carry me away 

From cold of night, and dust of day 

In ragged hour or salt worn eye 

Be my desire, my well sprung lye
[Chorus x 2]
 

Spring worship unto Thee 

Spring worship unto Thee