A new joy

I'm standing, shifting my weight from one foot to the next.

The guys would be picked through first. Then the girls would be sifted through. Girlfriends/crushes usually made the first cut. Second were the athletic ones, then came "You take one, we'll get the other." Or if there happened to be an odd number, we were "lumped."

Today though, I had my "A" game on. It felt good. And I tried to keep the bounce from my step as I went to high-five my teammates. Several tube-socked, gangly guys were still shifting from one foot to the other in the line-up.

I was chosen. I wasn't a left-over. I wasn't a "you're on my team because we're nice and play with everyone; and just to show you how nice we are, we'll toss the ball in your direction occasionally." No. I was chosen.

And He has chosen me. If there was ever a team that I would want to be chosen for, this is the ultimate. It's as though the universe had Olympics, and I was chosen for our solar system's team (wonder what our jersey's would look like)... only better.

God didn't invite me because I had something to offer Him. I've minimal talent, looks, brains... yeah... all that (see humbled beyond comfort). No. Rather, because He is.

God has never left me shocked or despaired; He is the God of Hope and the Prince of Peace. But He needs to be God. He needs to be put in His rightful place.

I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of His robe filled the temple. Above Him were seraphs, each with six wings: with two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another: 'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of His glory.'
At the sound of their voices the door posts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.
'Woe to me!' I cried, 'I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.'
Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the alter. With it he touched my mouth and said, 'See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atone for.'
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?'
And I said, "Here I am. Send me!"
He said, "Go..."

God has chosen me. And He knows me, whom He has called.

Humbled beyond comfort

I was told from the beginning not to compare; it will either set me up for failure, or it will set my standards too low, and make me satisfied with a less of person than who God has made me to be. I've also been told that its not what I do that matters, but who I am.

But here I am, attempting to achieve all four matters at once and not succeeding at any one of them. It's easy not to compare when I'm quite satisfied with myself. But when I want to be something that I am not (nor can ever be?)... then the gate is opened, and I can't seem to resist.

Before, when I had a set back or failure I could always turn to one of my resources, and use it as a crutch until something else in me was able to shoulder the load. If I was not the smartest, then I could be the pretty one, the one who had a little "extra" that made people like me, even if I didn't quite make the cut; and if I was not the most attractive, then I could be the smart one, marking sweet "A's" on all my works; and if neither of those was working for me, then I would turn to my personality, my family, my hobbies... I could always find something that would make me worthwhile to the society that I lived in.

And now, I've exhausted each of my resources. I've compared myself with the least of them and have come up empty.

Perhaps now, God is able to use me. Perhaps it was Him who allowed me to run out; after all, anything that I did have was a gift from Him, to be on lease for just a bit, until He deemed that I no longer needed them.

I asked Him to break me, so that I could have as intimate relationship as possible with Him. And once again, He has remained faithful. How does it feel to realize that I have neither the things that I do, nor that which makes me who I am? It feels like the tears that refuse to break from the corner of my eyes -I can't even feel the relief of pitying myself.

Jesus says that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. I wonder, when I will be willing to trade my patched army sack, infested sleeping bag, and grocery cart with tin cans, for His cot under the Willow with a glass of lemon water.