A Narrow Path

I've long since accepted that I'm a drama queen. In serious situations, with major unhealthiness, this can be a bad thing. Most of the time though, I prefer to believe it means that I feel honestly and openly and passionately.

Sometimes, I can be just the opposite. I can become withdrawn and self-involved and not even know it. Busy. Confused. Separate from my God, and by extension, the people I care about.

Many months ago I found myself on my knees in a place where I go to pray. I realized that I had just emerged from something rather traumatic and that I hadn't gotten there by accident. Not really. I got there because I didn't get something I needed from my father emotionally, while growing up, and I went looking for it someplace else. And continued looking for it. And continued. Even when it was so obviously a bad thing. I let someone treat me poorly, horribly, because I valued myself based on what I didn't get.

While on my knees, Jesus told me to put HIM there. To allow HIM to be my husband. To be in that place. He told me he knows my needs before I do, that he can give me everything and will never, ever let me down. I was not alone. I had not heard sermons about this, I had not read books about this. I did not know this was a Christian principle. It amazes me because this message was so incredibly personal, just for me.

So I did this. It gave me great comfort. It has allowed me to view the man that I've been dating as a human being, rather than someone who is supposed to just give and give and give. Rather than someone who is supposed to be infallible. Rather than someone who is allowed to mistreat me because I have given him God-like qualities.

I try, every morning, to spend time with Jesus, to remind myself of these things. To keep balance. Sometimes I get so busy that I lose touch with this side of me. I feel the emptiness, the hole this creates. Jesus has become a living, breathing entity. He has become my friend. I require time with him. When life gets too busy for me to find time on my knees in the morning, I feel it in every corner of my life. I begin to live life differently, less passionately, less thoughtfully. Less lovingly to all those close to me.

Oddly enough, when I look back on my history, the happiest I ever was, was at Bible camp the summer I counseled. I had lots of time with my guitar, the lake and prayer. I had woods I could tromp through and knew my way around like it was a city block. I felt close to God. But I moved away from God that summer and never came back to him until now.

And now he wants something more from me. He demands I walk a more faithful line. He demands I behave like a Christian. He demands I open my heart up so that it can be healed in the places it is still dark and scary. I am frightened. I was frightened months ago when he so gently, but so obviously, cornered me. I have received nothing but gifts since then. My God calls and though I resisted at first, I will not anymore.

I go. Truly worshiping God seems to be similar to marriage. It's constant work. Constant vigilance. We fall away, become less then present and have to find our way back. I have never walked this path before. Never been with someone who refuses to walk away from me, who walks with me even when I push them away. I am continually amazed that there is someone this incredible.

Last night I had an argument with someone. He said some things that hurt. Some were true, brutally honest. I reached for Jesus's hand. I heard him whisper in my ear. He sat next to me while I listened and helped to keep my ears open. Helped to keep my heart open so that it would not close off in defensiveness. My humanness failed me. Because of His gift, I get up, I am forgiven. I try again.

Everyone struggles with pride, with forgiveness. Sometimes, though, we are hardest on ourselves. I spent several months hearing nothing but "Humble Yourself". Being humble got me through divorce, of all things. And now, as I begin to take credit for having survived an insane situation, or give credit to those who have supported me, I find myself failing. Missing the point. I can't take any credit. I survived by the grace of God. I go back there, now. Hand myself over. Drop to my knees. Ask Him to reach in and stir my heart. To forgive me and allow me to forgive myself for my errors, in my history and in my present. To help me move forward with more care, to live intentionally. To slow things down so that I can tend to the important things, to remember to place Him first, every morning, where He wants to be.