Feeling bad when there's no reason to feel bad. That's what I do best. As if I have any real hardships in my life, as if I have anything that is not going well for me. I know what to do when I am in a storm. Look up, trust God, count my blessings, keep fighting the good fight of faith. But what do I do when the storm is in me? My head is to heavy to look up, I am trusting God but don't feel Him near, I see how blessed I am and yet have no fight left in me. What does a good Jesus follower do when they find that they have run dry?
Or course I know the answer. Go to the well. Drink fully of the Living Water that never runs dry. Surely I see my life like David in Psalm 23:5, "...my cup overflows." But I feel so tiredly rabid. I raise the cup of thanksgiving to my lips and I am unable to swallow. I know I am surrounded by God's life-giving love but am unable to breathe it in. My imperfect lungs struggle to accept the perfection of His grace. My shallow and unworthy throat can not take in His beautiful mercy. I am not good enough to deserve it.
"No, you are not." a voice whispers to my soul. My pride nearly breaks in two. But haven't I done so much good? Haven't I always followed His calling in life? Certainly I have done so much more than so many others. I have never strayed from the narrow and winding road, even when it got so thorny and painful. I deserve His love so much more than the people I see around me, don't I? Where is my reward for all the sacrifices I have made?
My self-righteousness continues to give me dry mouth. I fall to the ground, unable to breathe, and I just lay there waiting to die. What's the point? If I am the same as them, then why try? "How can you love those disgusting sinners the same as me!?" I choke on the words as they force themselves up out of my dry throat.
As I close my eyes, I hear the voice whisper again to me. But this time there are no words. Just the heaviness of a wisdom that I cannot understand. I begin to feel smaller and smaller. What am I but a bit of sand on the unending beach of history? When did I become so important that I should question God's love and mercy to those who don't notice it? When did I become so shallow that I could hate someone just because they were lost?
I gasp for air, like a newborn baby taking his first breath. It is hard and it is humiliating. As I struggle to rise I feel hand, strong and loving, help me to my feet. I cannot look into His eyes, but I feel His loving gaze deep into my soul. "I am sorry." I whisper, but His forgiveness is already felt. "Teach me please." I beg, "Teach me how to love them. Help me put away my pride and show me how you see them." He holds me up and brings a cup to my lips. Slowly I drink in His love.
I feel different. I feel soft, kind, generous and caring. My eyes light up as my Father speaks to my heart, "My child, you do not deserve my love. Your deeds cannot earn it, your faith cannot merit it. It is a gift I give to you, and you need only to accept it." Tears stream down my face. I need only accept it, but why have I not been? My pride was a mask for my failures, my self-righteousness was a cover for my self-loathing. I needed to let it go. I needed to let myself go.
I am nothing special, nothing amazing, but I have access to the most amazing love ever. All I need to do is accept it and drink it in. As I take another sip I realize that my job is not to prove God's love, to force people to drink it, not to fix their lives, but only to share it. To share God's love by loving them. Lord help me to see past the failures, including mine, and to drink of and share the beautiful gift of your unending love.
