Sunday 24 March 2013

Be yourself

This isn't going to be pretty and this isn't a theological piece. Not even a devotional, really. You might call it a testimony of sorts.

In the past when I heard people saying things like "It never occurred to me that God might want me to be myself", I treated it, at some level, a little cynically. So much of what we encounter in our worldly culture encourages us to chase our dreams, to follow our hearts. If I am honest, it seemed just a bit too convenient to me that people often attested to feeling like square pegs in a round hole. They would site evidence such as "not feeling comfortable" with what they were doing (usually in a church setting) as supporting the "feeling" that there was something else they should be doing. I have been in church long enough to hear this story in a few guises and on many different occasions by now. Though I empathise with the feeling, I confess, I still didn't really get it. I think, at some level, I thought they were sacrificing duty on the altar of self interest.

In a largely unspoken way, in my family, duty and longevity has been held in the highest regard, certainly on the paternal side of my family. We are committers and stickers. My father laudably has always spoken about this sense of determination and perseverance with pride (not in a sinful sense). These are qualities that the world, and sadly the church at times, neglect to promote. The idea of "church hopping", for example, would be almost unthinkable to us. And for me the idea of going where the best action is and leaving a flagging church, like a rat off a sinking ship is equally unpalatable. I think we've always seen ourselves more like the band on the Titanic, going down with the ship, still playing our instruments. Honourable, praiseworthy and, sometimes, stupid.

Before you get your backs up let me define my terms a little with a tale.

In the summer after I got saved (renewed, restored, "came back to the Lord": insert your own appropriate term) I found myself in a deadlock with my sinful nature. I'd returned to church for 6 months or so by now. After some very powerful repentance, I found that it was taking a lot more than resolve to kick my drug habit. My best intentions and my heaviest tears couldn't seem to count when it came to the crunch. Peer pressure loomed heavily over me at the age of 18 and, if I am honest, I am not sure how comfortable I was with change. It was just too easy for me to hide out in the habit like Elijah in his cave, licking my wounds. But the metaphorical ravens came. I was sustained. I had a bright idea. "What I need", I thought, "Was a purpose! Something to occupy me, to get me free from this situation, trapped in social circles that were destroying me".

I cant remember where it came from but the thought that I ought to go to the mission field came to me. It was almost laughable, I know. A dope head going to win the nations for Christ. But with my families help I located YWAM and applied to do a Discipleship Training School (DTS) at their Scottish training base in the September of that year. Remarkably I got accepted. There were a lot of omissions on my application form, I must say. And so the fleece was laid out before the Lord. I told him I needed to raise the money by the deadline. To be more precise, I gave him an ultimatum. I said that if he came up with the money, I would change my life and go. I also told him that if he did not (try not to laugh) that I would return to live in a squat and work on becoming a published poet.

There are a few tells here as to what I want to bring out (if you are still reading after the mention of poetry, that is). Firstly it is that I considered this to be the way I should go (and yes I did go). I had an idea of what the life of a servant of God looked like. That life was a lot more like a missionaries life than it was the life of a poet. It was an ideal that I imposed on myself. That was "holiness" as I saw it then.
Secondly I was the one who laid down the condition. What I had always (or rather long) wanted to do was to be a writer, and primarily a writer of poetry. You see what I had done? I took my hearts desires and I stood them in opposition to the idea of what I perceived God wanted for my life. It was him or me! Missions or Poems. It was a dichotomy entirely fabricated in my own head, with the helping hand of a few of the enemies lies, I am sure. I didn't even consider that he may have given me those desires in the first place.
Thirdly, partially subconsciously, I took Gods answer, in providing the money, to be a verdict on the poetry idea. He had spoken and so that was not the path for me.

A few years later I recreationally took up the poetry again but writing did not feature anymore in my dreams until I next found myself in a sadly back-slidden state. You see I held it as a rebellion. A "stuff you" to God. A "I'm going to do what I like" statement. A "time to follow MY dreams now, God" kind of statement. I am sure he chuckled, like I chuckle at my boy when hes in a pantomime sulk.

People often talked, especially in bible college, of how they found some worship songs very hard to sing. It is usually the ones where we offer great sacrifice to God. I found myself involved in kids work a fair bit, whilst at college, and the song I struggled with the most is "If I were a butterfly". One line in particular.

I just thank you Father for making me, me.

You see, all my life I have held duty and sacrifice to be more valuable than heartfelt desires.  That "who I was" was to be sacrificed to my fathers God, like Isaac on the altar. It was subconscious, but it was there. But it's stupid to drown on the Titanic when there are seats going spare on the life boats, especially devinely ordained lifeboats.

This summer just gone, God started to revive my dreams of writing. He has lead me into a time of permission to be myself. To use the gifts he has given me. I have come to realise that the peg is not the wrong shape, it was doing the wrong job. I have actively been pursuing the dream of using my creative talents to serve him ever since. These blogs are just a part. I dont believe he ever meant me to drown.

I believe that God made each of us uniquely and loves us completely as we are. Jesus came to live and die for me in my unredeemed state. There were no conditions or ultimatums from him. He just drew me with his love. Of course he asks for sacrifices but I don't believe it is ever WHO we are that is to be sacrificed. As I have grown with him on this most exciting part of my 30 yr walk with him, I have come to know that the more I am like Jesus, the more I am like who he created me to be. An individual reflection of the creators Glory. I don't believe that heaven will be full of drones or "Jesus clones"; devoid of personality or difference. God is far more imaginative than that. He doesn't want to take away from you, he wants to complete you, his masterpieces. His poems.

Last week In church, I read a fictional piece of narrative that I wrote, based on fact, that was an account of Pilates meeting with Jesus. It was the first time I have done that. It felt like a milestone and Gods blessing seemed to be on it. I never would have believed that God could have used something I love doing so much, in that way. It felt like a homecoming. And I guess, ultimately that's what our pilgrimage through this life is, a homecoming, back to where you belong. I intend to start getting used to it.

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