Patchwork
This blog is about Jesus. Like almost everything I write is about Jesus, so maybe you're annoyed by that but I can't help it and I'm not sorry. But I still hope you'll read this.
(Warning: there is cursing in this blog. It's late and I'm tired and I also think Jesus understands)
My life is not my own, and what I do with it has everything to do with Jesus. Everything.
Because for me, Jesus changes everything. He changes how I love, how I speak, how I write, how I handle anger and pain, how I interact with people, how I care for people, how I care for myself. He changes how I heal.
That's the one thing, the brutal thing, that I'm learning the most lately. He changes how I heal. It's been a grueling process. Sometimes I'm a slow learner.
I'm good at letting Jesus have a lot of things, but when it comes to healing, I automatically make it a one-man job: my job. Just mine. Leave me alone and let me handle it. It's fine. I've got this. Go away.
I have been in a constant standoff with Jesus the last few weeks. Like stubborn-arms folded-jaw clenched-stare down-eyebrows raised standoff. I wouldn't budge. He would kindly, gently remind me that he had a lot more patience than any stubbornness I could ever muster up. But hey, I still tried.
I think this is one of those times He laughs because I'm so hilarious in my defenses sometimes.
I would argue with Him:
I was doing my best. And I thought I was doing really well, actually.
Sometimes I do things for Jesus and I'm super willing to do them. Other times it's a struggle and I do it begrudgingly. I'll let you guess which one I was when it came to surrender.
It's like I had this part of my heart that was about to burst, it had little holes in it and it was leaking and Jesus wanted it and I didn't want Him to have it and I had been frantically trying to patch up the leaks and keep it all in there. I was fiercely guarding it, staring Jesus down. But after awhile there are too many holes to patch and you realize you're tired. You realize that you might as well just let it break open so you can start rebuilding it. You just get tired of patchwork.
I finally gave up, heavy sighed, hung my head, and waved my white flag. But Jesus has been showing me that surrender is not the same thing as defeat. You are not defeated when you decide to stop warring with yourself and let Jesus help you work it out; you are brave. There is something brave in surrender when the fighting is killing you.
I've finally decided, after a lot of arguing with Jesus, that thing I was trying to protect and guard and patch up, He already had it. He already knew and He took it to the cross with Him. He had that part of my heart all along, He just wanted me to go there with Him. There's something really humbling when you realize the things you're trying to keep, He already has and you just look silly trying to hold on to them.
Jesus wants all of you, just like He wants all of me. But what I've figured out is that he already has all of me, I just hadn't admitted it. He already has all of you. What I'm wondering is when you'll admit it and let Him do a work in you, too--in your hurt and in your healing. Because we all have hurts and we all need Jesus. And because you can't keep up the patchwork forever.
You already know, deep down somewhere inside of you, that you need something more than yourself. Jesus changes everything, and it's time you stopped trying so hard not to see that.
So...may you stop frantically trying to patch up the holes. May you let it break open so that it can be rebuilt, and may you surrender when you're ready to stop killing yourself trying to do it alone...and may you find Jesus there.
(Warning: there is cursing in this blog. It's late and I'm tired and I also think Jesus understands)
My life is not my own, and what I do with it has everything to do with Jesus. Everything.
Because for me, Jesus changes everything. He changes how I love, how I speak, how I write, how I handle anger and pain, how I interact with people, how I care for people, how I care for myself. He changes how I heal.
That's the one thing, the brutal thing, that I'm learning the most lately. He changes how I heal. It's been a grueling process. Sometimes I'm a slow learner.
I'm good at letting Jesus have a lot of things, but when it comes to healing, I automatically make it a one-man job: my job. Just mine. Leave me alone and let me handle it. It's fine. I've got this. Go away.
I have been in a constant standoff with Jesus the last few weeks. Like stubborn-arms folded-jaw clenched-stare down-eyebrows raised standoff. I wouldn't budge. He would kindly, gently remind me that he had a lot more patience than any stubbornness I could ever muster up. But hey, I still tried.
I think this is one of those times He laughs because I'm so hilarious in my defenses sometimes.
I would argue with Him:
Jesus, you have my heart. Every part of it. Except that little tiny part. Can't everything else that you have be enough?
No, I want that part of your heart, Kenz (He calls me Kenz a lot)
You can have anything, Jesus. You can have this grief, that anxiety, my finances, my career, my relationships. You can have all of that. But I will not go there. STOP trying to go there.
(Arms folded. Jaw clenched. Stare down. Eyebrows raised.)
I
will
not
go there, Jesus.
I started to get tired, and one day I realized I couldn't keep up the standoff with Jesus anymore. Do you want to know my first thought when I realized that?
Shit.
Seriously. That was my first thought when I realized I was losing this standoff.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Sometimes I do things for Jesus and I'm super willing to do them. Other times it's a struggle and I do it begrudgingly. I'll let you guess which one I was when it came to surrender.
It's like I had this part of my heart that was about to burst, it had little holes in it and it was leaking and Jesus wanted it and I didn't want Him to have it and I had been frantically trying to patch up the leaks and keep it all in there. I was fiercely guarding it, staring Jesus down. But after awhile there are too many holes to patch and you realize you're tired. You realize that you might as well just let it break open so you can start rebuilding it. You just get tired of patchwork.
I finally gave up, heavy sighed, hung my head, and waved my white flag. But Jesus has been showing me that surrender is not the same thing as defeat. You are not defeated when you decide to stop warring with yourself and let Jesus help you work it out; you are brave. There is something brave in surrender when the fighting is killing you.
I've finally decided, after a lot of arguing with Jesus, that thing I was trying to protect and guard and patch up, He already had it. He already knew and He took it to the cross with Him. He had that part of my heart all along, He just wanted me to go there with Him. There's something really humbling when you realize the things you're trying to keep, He already has and you just look silly trying to hold on to them.
Jesus wants all of you, just like He wants all of me. But what I've figured out is that he already has all of me, I just hadn't admitted it. He already has all of you. What I'm wondering is when you'll admit it and let Him do a work in you, too--in your hurt and in your healing. Because we all have hurts and we all need Jesus. And because you can't keep up the patchwork forever.
You already know, deep down somewhere inside of you, that you need something more than yourself. Jesus changes everything, and it's time you stopped trying so hard not to see that.
So...may you stop frantically trying to patch up the holes. May you let it break open so that it can be rebuilt, and may you surrender when you're ready to stop killing yourself trying to do it alone...and may you find Jesus there.
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