The different streams of this river are apt to appear like mere confusion to us, because of our limited sight, whereby we cannot see the whole at once. A man who sees but one or two streams at a time, cannot tell what their course tends to. Their course seems very crooked, and different streams seem to run for a while different and contrary ways: and if we view things at a distance, there seem to be innumerable obstacles and impediments in the way, as rocks and mountains, and the like; to hinder their ever uniting and coming to the ocean; but yet if we trace them, they all unite at last, they all come to the same issue, disgorging themselves in one into the same ocean. Not one of all the streams fail.
– Jonathan Edwards
That last sentence of the above quote is reminiscent of a glorious and powerful verse in the book of Joshua: "Not one word of all the good promises that the Lord had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass." (Joshua 21:45)
The world is a chaotic place. And I've always been scared, so desperately afraid of the world that I'd imagine my own.
But I never had courage because I never trusted the good promises of God, that no matter what happens, He is good and only does the right thing. I had to build my walls because I thought that giving myself to others means that I would perish, not knowing that the essence of love is life, and since life cannot die, love never ends.
The Scripture and the vast cloud of witnesses who have gone before me testify to God's faithfulness, that even in a world filled with evil, God's promises remain unshaken, and He will finally do justice to all. He will reward those who trusted Him despite how stupid and weak it seemed to do so, and He will slay the proud who oppressed the righteous and hated God. It will come to pass. He said so. We must trust Him. It will surely come to pass.
I've been taking an online theology class. My lessons were once a week, and lasted for twelve weeks. I completed the course last week.
I'm not precisely sure what I've gotten out of it. Mostly I've found out that I'm a terrible, terrible person. I hate myself. I hate most everything I do. I'm so fed up with my monstrosity. I've been wishing that I could change for so long. But it's so hard to put off selfishness. It's such a deeply-rooted problem that I've gotten so used to it. I'm trapped and withering and stinking like a corpse.
And I don't even cry out enough. That's the worst thing of all. It's so reasonable and easy to see, at this point, that I should, with the graceful swiftness of a deer, abandon self-confidence and break. But I can't break. I'm not sad enough to cry, not ashamed enough to blush. I'm hardened.
But God is working His wonders, I know. Oh, what a wonderful thing to have come across that sermon by Charles Leiter, "The Weakness and Foolishness of God". It finally taught me the nature of that glory that I have been seeking for such a long time, that God is not as glorified in great displays of abundance, knowledge, strength, and beauty as He is in the use of weak and lowly means.
This is because it is only natural for the strong to defeat the weak. But for the weak to defeat the strong, God must be involved. Thus, in the end, no one can boast of himself, but of God. That is how God is glorified, not by human impressiveness, but by human weakness.
Which is why, despite my terrible condition, losing hope is not an option for me. Because I know that despite how chaotic and despairing things seem, this all is meant to show that what man cannot accomplish, God can. I await the day when this socially awkward boy will be transformed into a selfless and honest gentleman, testifying to God's power in obliterating sin. I keep looking and waiting, and keep trying and failing, knowing that all the bitterness shall make the sweetness sweeter.
And throughout all this, as the days go by, I continue to be surprised by God's mercy. It's not that anything especially pleasing or nice happened to me, but that I failed so much. I kept being unable to do what I'm commanded to do. And no matter what I did, I realized that God's promises were still valid for me. I changed, but the Word did not change. Christ still beckons. Again and again and again and again. Seventy times seven times.
Perhaps this is one of the reasons I'm so afraid to love people. Because I realized how terribly hard it should've been for God to love me. I hated Him so much. But He pressed on, not only for a moment, but for years, up until now. I don't see myself as having the strength to persevere like that, like Christ. This must sound confusing, since it should be that knowing how hard it was for God to love me makes it easier for me to love unlovely people. But I don't know, I really don't. But I do continue to hope that I can find the strength to be like that one day, despite the hurt I have to go through.
It seems that the filmmaking dream was dropped. I might very likely become a pastor. I don't even want to talk about it, it's such a scary prospect at this point, and I'm so incredibly disappointed with my own spiritual life that the idea seems laughable. But I love God's Word, and I love to see God glorified, and my heart yearns for a place of refuge for God's people. It's true that no other job seems more terrifying to me, but I'm also sure that no other job can make me happier. Not even making films. Not anymore.
That's kind of what has been going on in my life for these few weeks and months, mainly.
God's promises do not fail. But why the agony in waiting for their fruition? Because God wants to present the best in the best way presentable. Along the way, He walks with us and showers us with mercies and gifts.
* * * * *
WHY YOUR CRUSH MAKES YOU NERVOUS
You've likely seen many girls that day. They don't bother you much, and you treat them normally as you would a human being. You talk and laugh and go about your business as usual.
Then she appears.
Something inside your stomach jumps and a tingle runs through your body. Your heart rate rises. How pretty she looks today. You suppress the rising sensation and look elsewhere, trying to not to look overexcited or overly insecure, and trying not to look like you're too bothered by her entry.
By coincidence she comes somewhere near you. She notices you, and greets you, "Hi!". That sweet voice. Taken by surprise, your greeting spills clumsily out of your mouth. Your heart rate doubles, and you try to relax to ease the burning sensation in your face and ears. How stupid! you scold yourself for acting so weird.
She goes on to talk about other things. How unbelievable, she's talking to me. As she speaks, you secretly admire how perfectly graceful she appears in everything she does. But at the same time, the longer the conversation is held, the more insecure and tense you become, worried about whether or not she may be disturbed by your responses. You realize that you have an excess of saliva in your mouth that you're afraid swallowing might make too much noise. You suddenly forgot how to stand normally, and any posture seems awkward to you.
Finally, she bids you goodbye, and you strain one final smile before watching her turn and walk away, her ponytail swishing behind her. You breathe a sigh of relief, and while squirming at how stupid you were, your infatuation with her is fresh in your heart. What a lovely girl, like no other.
Why is it that the people we admire cause us to be anxious when around them? It's because we look up to them so much that we feel unworthy. They don't even have to look down on you to make you feel inferior; you already feel that way when you recognize how excellent they are.
This is an experience familiar to so many. Why, then, is it hard to grasp the idea of the coexistence of godly love and godly fear? It's because we truly love God that we fear Him, because we realize how infinitely removed from His perfection we are. Compared to His excellence, we seem so inferior and so awkward. But that's what makes the adventure of drawing near to Him so thrilling. Because if He's so normal that He does not take our breath away, what's the glory in that?
It's because we have such a terrifyingly holy God that the idea of feeling bored in heaven is so ridiculous. Try to feel bored in heaven, I promise you it will be infinitely harder than trying to stay calm beside your crush.
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