Prepared for Disillusionment?

Dis-il-lu-sion: the condition of being disenchanted

All my life, I've been prepared for disillusionment in my faith. I would read books, read the Bible, pray, memorize, highlight, underline, and scribble entry after entry in frustration-packed journals.

It seemed that no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I read, or how long I prayed, disillusionment would always come. My soaring worship of God lasted only a moment, my commitment to remain steadfast lasted - if I was lucky - a week, my aspirations to get to know God better would crumble and turn to dust and I was left again with that haunting knowledge that I had failed God again.

Disenchantment.

The wonder, the excitement, the joy was gone.

What I didn't realize was that God was never gone.

That's what I realized today.

That God is never gone.

Even those months - years sometimes - when my Bible reading became a perfunctory act, meaning less and less each day, fulfilling less and less each day, become more of a drag than anything else. Even when I cried in frustration and desperation, reaching out for a God whom my imagination had sent far away, a God who I thought had turned his back...

He was there.

I just never realized it.

But today, when I felt the impassive reading, the skimming over words without really taking them in, the uninspired prayer, I became afraid.

I found that I didn't want disillusionment anymore. I wanted to still grasp and hold the joy I've been feeling, to revel in the steady knowledge that God was holding my hand, to capture the excitement of reading His word where the verses would speak to me like they never had before. I didn't want to let it go.

I didn't want to let it go.

But I could feel it slipping through my fingers and I felt helpless to stop it and desperate to keep it.

I prayed with Psalm 47, but the words had no meaning and my prayer had no power, no inspiration. I cried out to God. I didn't want to just grasp the marvel for a moment and then see it slip through and shatter on the ground. I didn't want another set of months full of apathy. I didn't want to have Him turn again into the God who doesn't care. The God who doesn't hold my hand.

And then, He turned my attention to a verse I had underlined on the other page.

Be still and know that I am God...


I tried to grasp it, I tried to struggle against the disillusionment that was creeping in and then I realized that it was that simple.

He is GOD.

And I realized that the years of disillusionment had been of my own making. They had come because I had failed to fight for what was important. I had allowed joy and peace and...God to slip through my fingers because I had been too lazy to fight for them. To unimpassioned to grasp and hold on until they gave me blessing, like Jacob did at the ford of Jabok. I had let it go before it had time to ripen. And in doing that, I had lost out on the fruit it gave.

What a fool I was.

But a fool no longer.

This time, I'm going to let go. I'm not going to just brush the fruit with my lips and then throw it away. I'm not going to be content with a mere slip of a blessing. I want the whole fruit. The whole blessing. I want to know Christ and the power of His Resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. (Philippians 3:10-11) I want to press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me (Philippians 3:12b). (What an honor it is to know that He took a hold of me for a reason!) And I am going to fight to keep what I had already attained and I am going to attain more. I'm not going to give up. And with that resolution comes peace. Because with God at my side I know that I can fight and I know that I can win.

Determined to fight, I prayed another Psalm. Psalm 50. This time I prayed it out loud. And as I read the verses, paying attention to what they said, I felt almost as if God Himself was reading the words to me. I could hear His voice in the words, His vow in the promises, His power in the judgments - and I knew that He was there.

He is God.

He is alive.

And He is with me.  

And the fear fled and the disenchantment faded and I felt strong and whole and loved again.


Before God, darkness flees.

Fear is darkness.

And disillusionment is a part of fear.

'Till next time,

God,I have a secret...

"Surely you desire truth in the inner parts; 

you teach me wisdom in the inmost place..."

- Psalm 51:6 - 

I stumbled across this verse while I was praying with Psalm 51 this morning. It really struck me in a way that it never had before.

"Surely you desire truth in the inner parts..."

God wants to know our deepest secrets. And He wants the truth. Actually, He doesn't just want it, He desires it. There's a difference between want and desire. A difference, perhaps not so much in a dictionary definition, but more in the way I interpret the words in my head.

Want denotes a God who demands. Desire gives me a picture of God asking for, wishing for, me to confide the deepest, most intimate secrets in my heart.

God desires to know.

I may argue that He already knows my secrets, my problems, my worries that I bury deep and hide from the world. After all, God sees into my inmost parts. My heart and my soul. He sees the things I don't even want to admit to myself. So if He knows, why does He need me to tell Him?

The answer is simple, really.

When I tell a friend a secret, it creates a bond between us. We both have the knowledge. Dividing it in half, so to speak. I've always found it a relief to unburden a deep, dark secret to a friend. It makes the burden less, the emotions less, and, in certain cases, the humiliation becomes less as well.

Sharing a secret with God creates the same bond. Tell God the most intimate secrets of your life. It may be hard, you may feel foolish, you might not even be able to get the words out at first, but tell Him anyway. He wants you to have the confidence to share everything in your heart. Just because He already knows doesn't mean He won't listen or doesn't want to hear.

He desires truth.

Secrets.

The inmost things.

He says: "Come unto me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)

He is gentle and humble in heart...

He won't hold your secrets over your head. Constantly reminding you of the failure you've admitted to Him, the fear you've confided in Him, the worries you can't seem to shake.

Instead, He'll take the burden of those secrets and give you instead His burden - which is light. Joy, peace, love, forgiveness, humility. And you'll realize more and more that He is able to understand your struggles. And that He is more than able to help you overcome them. Problems don't get solved by pushing them out; shoving them away in dark corners and never alluding to them. Problems are solved when you confess, with truth and repentance, that you have them and that you don't want to hold onto them anymore.

Telling God your inmost secrets enables Him to help you overcome the fear, embarrassment, worry, ect. that accompanies them. When you lay it out between you, leaving every detail in the broad openness where you both can see it, resisting the urge to hide it back again, and keeping it at the foreground of your mind, God will have infinite opportunities to give you peace. To show you things in His word that you never realized. To comfort you when the enormity of it gets overwhelming.

It opens up opportunities for Him to just be there.

To hold you, help you, and comfort you.

Don't hide these things away. Putting them out in the open, whispering them to your Savior with honesty and candor - this leads to blessing and to a greater understanding and intimacy with your Father in Heaven. 

For His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

'Till next time,

Take My Hand

I'm reading a book right now, what I call a "Christian self-help book", (basically a book that is non-fiction and written for inspiration, teaching, challenging, inspiring, ect.) and as I read, I grow frustrated and impatient at my seeming inability to grasp the deepness of God and to walk with Him.

The author challenges to live fully in the beauty of Christ. To live a life of thankfulness, a life of praise, a life devoted to finding the gifts God showers down every day and opening them, savoring them and thanking Him for them.

It's a beautiful way to live life. Savoring every moment for the gift tucked away inside. Letting your heart overflow with thankfulness to the loving Father who delights in giving you the best.

So why do I find this so frustrating?

I realized the reason this morning, when I was reading chapter six. The answer had nothing to do with the premise of the chapter. Instead, it was a whisper from God to my heart that gave me peace from my clawing for instant perfection.

I am an impulsive person. I do things without thinking, I do things quickly and I always want to do things now.  If I read something that inspires me, I want my life to change now. If I see something that I want, I want it now. I don't want to wait. I don't want to wander. I want to see it, do it, have it.

So, I immediately want my life to change. To savor beauty, to fill to the brim and further with thanksgiving, to show the world the glow of joy that comes when I am truly living a life devoted to God.

And, of course, perfection does not come overnight.

In fact, perfection doesn't come at all.

And immediately I am irritated, angry, jealous. I see others living this way, I see the joy of it on their faces. I see them being everything I want so badly to be.

But for me, the fulfillment seems just out of reach. I brush it with my fingertips from time to time. I feel the surge of joy when I truly enter the moment God has placed in my life for me alone. But that moment is brief, and it fades away. And I forget to enter the next. Then I read more and I am frustrated and afraid and I go on with my life, determined not to forget anymore. But soon I do, and then the feelings return. That I'm not good enough to do this, that I'm a failure to God. Will He give me more gifts if I miss the ones He already gave? Will He bother to reach down and open His hand if I forget to thank Him for the blessings I have selfishly snatched from His palm before?

I feel like an ungrateful child. Unworthy of the attentions of a loving God.

So I form in my mind a God of coolness. I make Him out to be a God who doesn't give when I forget. I see Him watching me, disappointed when I fall. I imagine Him turning away when I rush my prayers. Looking away when I don't do things right. I tell myself that He doesn't care anymore because I've dashed Him into the rocks so many times with my failures. And when I tell myself these things, life goes gray and the sweetness is gone and the joy fades away.

 But then I am reminded who HE is.

And He is not a God that turns away at my failures, who forgets me when I do not pray, who is angry when I fall.

He is a God who forgets my sins and sends it as far as the east is from the west. He is a God of joy who delights in giving gifts, even to someone as ungrateful as me.

He is Love. Embodied. Personified. He is Love and He can be no other.

So I remember this and take courage and try again. Disillusionment will still haunt me. Pride will make me stumble. Anger will make me fall. Frustration will knock at my heart. Unworthiness will darken my soul. I will still feel as if I fall short of the mark I make when I look at others who I see as being ahead of me in this race I have created in my mind. I will still wear myself out trying to be the best. Trying to attain everything I think I should. Trying to be the perfect child I tell myself God will love.

And there it ends. With me, me, me.

I will do this. I will do that. I must attain. I must be. I. I. I.

So where does it end?

Does it end when I am so exhausted that I cry out to God and say: "this is too hard!"?

Does it end when I have frustrated myself to the point of despair because I can never be good enough?

Does it end when I have pushed myself so far towards perfection that I have forgotten the real reason I am alive?

Where, God? Where does it end?

And this is what Jesus whispers in my ear. In the midst of my frustration, my longing, my efforts. When I look at myself and hate what I see. Hate the stumbling, the falling, the imperfection. The fact that I cannot do this. This is what He says:

"Why do it alone?"

I am stunned as I realize with clarity that this is why God is here. This is what He wants.

He wants me to give Him my hand and ask Him to help me walk down the road.

He understands.

He doesn't expect me to be perfect on my own.

He doesn't want me to push Him away and try to accomplish perfection on my own.

It's not something I should do on my own.

It's not something I can do on my own.

It's God who will take my hand and show me the way in His own time. I don't need to wear myself out trying to get ahead. It is God who will remind me to thank Him, like my mother reminded me when I was young. He won't judge when I forget, He won't turn away when I take gifts for granted. He'll take my hand and show me the way.

All I have to do is take His.

'Till next time,