Getting Real

It takes so much energy to fake it spiritually and yet that is what I so often find myself doing. When I skip my personal time with God, I walk around thinking there must be a sign stamped across my forehead for everyone to see. Then, like an idiot, I totally overcompensate, speaking in spiritual jargon and  hoping my hurried morning without acknowledging God won't show itself when speaking to my husband, friends or employees. Sometimes, naturally, I blow my cover. Other times, supernaturally, God is much more graceful than I deserve Him to be.

I really believe he feels more grief than anger. The Bible does say He is slow to anger, and yet we see that by early Genesis, he is already feeling grief at having created humankind! I am so glad he loves us enough to feel something. He is so wonderful and I am so built up whenever He draws me close. When I am taking my time of solitude and seeking God, I remember that He is my breath and I can't live or do anything without Him. Take this Sunday, for instance.

This Sunday I was kneeling at the altar, seeking relief from a difficult and disappointing week, and He spoke to me clearly. My husband was leading a song for reflection and it was about to end. As I began to get up, God said, "Stay with Me longer". Now, the teens from the church were having a food sale fund raiser for the youth retreat following the service and I wanted to make sure they were all set, but I didn't dare budge. I quieted my spirit and let myself go. And he gave me strength. He lifted my spirits and reminded me that He sees my heart. Then I realized what His grief is really about. He knows what we are missing out on when we aren't spending time with Him. He is real and speaks real truths. That is what getting Real is all about.

Image and glam

 I was devouring a fashion magazine recently, a guilty pleasure of mine, when I was struck by its hoarding nature. It eggs us on to buy every stitch in sight and exaggerates our need to have bought it yesterday. The leggy girls in the photos, the strategic placement of glossy diamond bangles and ridiculously oversized handbags all seem to be designed to convince us of our have nots.

The brains behind these magazines encourage us to covet what we don't have. Worse yet, they attempt to plant that venemous seed which erroniously teaches us that, unless we have expendable income, we shouldn't even be looking through its pages!  Who else would be suckered into buying $1,000 stilettos?

As I teetered dangerously towards the brink of fashionistaville, a spirit dwelling inside me caught me by the tails of my old navy jeans and jerked me back to reality. His reality. The reality that protects us from feeling unworthy, undesirable, and every other un-word  ever created by the enemy. His spirit whispers love songs, composed personally for my ears to hear, and reminds me that my image is wrapped up in reflecting His. What a relief. That is a relief because he empowers and reminds me of my haves rather than my have nots. He empowers me to see the dreams I can attain through his limitless abilities.

I found myself re-reading that same magazine with the ability to appreciate the contents for art's sake. I can honestly say that I felt absolutely no sense of obligation to purchase or live up to any of it. My image, how I look to the world, is important. But God gets to decide how that will appear. Now I ask, "How can I reflect Him accurately without looking like a knock-off"?!

Hope

I wonder. I really do. I wonder at God's goodness, his loving kindness and his tenderness. And then I can't help but sense shame for my distance towards him. I say I need Him and that I love Him. After all, I have dedicated my life to serving Him, saying goodbye forever to designer bags, the latest Camaro (it is such a beautiful car!) and bulging bank accounts.  But my my pride makes itself known--unwelcome--like when I forget about God's presence. Like when I take his willingness to be known by me for granted. I hate the pride in me; I don't know where it comes from (uh...scratch that!), but I know that I loathe that part of my nature. I was reading recently a reminder that pride is normal (a word I hate) and loathing it is utterly human-which is proof to me that God didn't design us to be inhabited by it.

"We inherently possess a natural resistance to God" (that is from a bible study I am currently engrossed in). We know he is the best thing that could ever happen to us, that he can open doors and restore hope, that he can offer satisfying intimacy no man or woman ever could. And yet we tend to resist him the way water pushes itself away from oil. But despite my tendencies to avoid him, I know the utter relief resulting from an encounter with God. He soothes and relaxes. He invigorates my soul and increases my ambition to accomplish his plans. He makes me feel hopeful. I love him for that and realize I am on my way. I do love him...and he knows how much!