G*D has been inviting me to a travelogue on my journey through the last year or two. those invitations come in the form of some interesting opportunities to tell my story. one that is fast approaching... tomorrow night!
the fact that i'm blogging rather than preparing what i'm going to say is one of many indications that i'm resisting.
it's one thing to type my thoughts onto a computer screen and press the 'publish' button. it's quite another to be a museum painting watching the eyes of those who stare at my canvas.
but larger than that. there's a curious hesitation... and maybe even a subtle fear.
if you haven't noticed, i tend to pour a lot into what i write. the words come from places deep within. people have asked if i've gone back and read my own writings... and give me funny looks when i say i never have.
i guess i like to live in the now. or maybe it's more about not wanting to go back.
maybe i'm concerned i'll discover huge flaws... stupidity... or arrogance in what i've written.
asking myself to lie down on the couch for a 50-minute session with myself is a bit unnerving... and sounds a little weird. maybe i wonder if i'll over-analyze my words and become so horrified with myself that i'll find it difficult to blog any further.
maybe i'm afraid the pain will jump out of the forgotten sentences & grab my heart at a time when things feel like 'normal' is just around the corner. i like those nightmares right where they are... neatly folded and tucked into my dresser drawer... slowly absorbing the scent of soap from the last hotel we visited.
early this morning as i began this post... contemplating the thought of re-engaging my pain, i was intriqued by the reality that Jesus regularly invites me back to his horror... to open his dresser drawer and re-discover the raw pain driven deep into his heart through hours and days and centuries of rejection & mistrust.
we call it 'communion'... 'eucharist'... 'the supper of the lord'.
how strange that something so grotesque becomes comforting and healing to those who dare to embrace it... and allow it to embrace them. there... i'm washed in ways that renew my senses and remove the grime that has encased my soul. through staring into his pain i am strangely restored.
but beyond the pain... there's something even deeper that i'm meant to discover while i experience the bloody metaphors resting briefly on my tongue. the images of torture mix with the sweetness of the elements and... if i engage it... hint at the joy that is mine to uncover inside the pain.
joy.
the joy of his love for me. a joy that drove him to an eternal willingness to do everything necessary to let me know that i am not alone in whatever slices my heart. a joy that neither erases nor diminishes the very real pain of life... but rather overwhelms it. the joy of anticipation... that one day things will be made right again... and that the process has already begun. the joy of knowing The-One-Who-Understands... The-One-Who-Heals... The-One-Who-Restores... The-One-Who-Promises.
so... maybe as i re-engage my own story... i'll meet a Fellow Traveler who will re-tell my own story in ways i've yet to read.
and maybe those who listen in will find strength to tickle their own dresser drawer handles and discover that what lies within is becoming laced with the familiar smell of An-Old-Friend.
a day is coming.
stay out of my dresser drawers.
Posted by: JVo | March 02, 2008 at 11:53 PM
stay out of my dresser drawers.
Posted by: JVo | March 02, 2008 at 11:54 PM