Life Would Never Be the Same

I hope this makes sense to you and I'm not just an island out here feeling like I've been led astray by the mystical part of popular Christianity. It's partly my fault really. You see, we all seem to want that "I once was lost but now I'm found" moment. We want the dramatic difference, the breathtaking, end-all-be-all time when we put the ugly behind us and are completely changed.

But the truth for the vast majority of us, if  not absolutely all of us, is that while we may become new and be completely washed clean, we're still very, very human and very, very, very ourselves with the same insecurities, vices and difficulties.  

And yet, I've been a believer decades and I've just verbalizing that I'm still waiting for my moment.

My salvation is steady but my ability to follow ranges from hyperbolic to stagnant in any number of moments. When my emotions run haywire, which is an all too often occurrence, I long for relief, for a day or even a cluster of moments when the constant stream of thought isn't running through my head. After an undetermined period of time I believe quite possibly more than I believe in anything else that a flashpoint will occur and I will be free of that particular struggle. 

So I trudge on, believing that with a little hard work, a bit of time and God's grace for a flashpoint, I'll have that moment that I can look back on forever as the moment I turned from the thing.

The reality is I rarely live in reality. My life tends to rock as though I'm constantly at sea and I float along with wherever the current takes me. Motivation will come so I sit passively until it does, often waiting past a reasonable timeframe for inspiration. Things usually work out- I get it done. Heaven forbid I work on that last pesky fruit of the spirit, self-control. 

I'll stop with the doom-and-gloom, even though that's pretty much the reality of the human condition. Instead I choose to look toward the ultimate Healer no matter how much I revert back to my emotionally-driven, usually illogical and mediocre ability to follow. I will trust in the One who called me His and I will be thankful that His love isn't determined by the strength of mine. 

I do argue that the strength of mine better establishes my faith and any ability to have peace and thereby correctly-defined happiness in this life. Conversely, or perhaps confluently, my salvation is not at all determined by, praise God, the strength of mine.

Praise God that He loved even a fragmented person like me so much that He was willing to create a world where He'd have to send His son, part of Himself, to die just so I could live. And on this journey as I look for my aha moments, I pray God would continue to use the mundane, usual things to lead me to Him so that perhaps I can learn as well from them as from the struggles.