Moment.
It may not be the way I would have chosen
When you lead me through a world that’s not my home
But you never said it would be easy
You only said I’d never go alone
When I cross over Jordan
I’m gonna sing, I’m gonna shout
I’m gonna look into your eyes and say,
You never let me down
So take me on the pathway that leads me home to you
And I will walk through the valley
If you want me to
I was in the middle of writing another entry about the power of words, but I was listening to an old Ginny Owens song (throwback to freshman year), and it moved my heart of stone to tears. So I’ll save the other entry for a later date and document this moment when the thought of Jesus’ unconditional love actually stirs some movement in my heart.
After a supremely uncomfortable weekend that brought a lot of difficult questions to mind, I am left feeling a bit unsettled. I am trying my best to see it as a blessing, as the bland contentment that normally characterizes my heart seems to lull my mind into thoughtlessness and provides easy stomping grounds for the devil. So I take these moments when I see clearly that this world was never meant to be my home to remember who and what I was created for.
The times I was closest to Jesus were when I truly believed that there was something greater than this life to wish for. There was a higher relationship to be had, a deeper love to experience, a greater country to belong in. I could literally feel my heart aching for heaven, a real, physical ache as I prayed, feeling genuinely Homesick and acutely aware of the emptiness inside. And I would long for Jesus. I’d think about how I would feel when we could finally be together. When I wouldn’t have to hate myself anymore for failing. When I wouldn’t have to feel so chained and hopeless. When I would stop forgetting.
Unfortunately, I’ve long since abandoned this idea that Jesus is a real, living person who continues to desire a real relationship with me. I don’t long for him anymore, nor do I think about the day when we’ll finally be united. Consequently, I don’t live like he matters. I need to remember my Africa convictions and turn my thoughts heavenward in appreciation and anticipation for a God who patiently loves and waits for me, despite all my running and forgetting.
“You never let me down.” Thank you. Keep me coming back. Whatever it takes.
