When you finally listen to what makes you cry

I heard Emily say it in person a few weeks ago, “Listen to what makes you cry.”

“I’m not much of a crier,” I said inwardly. But now I know, that’s a lie.

Jennifer talked about it here, how her friend can’t push back the tears when she eats the bread and drinks the cup to remember all He has done. I know. I. know.

Again in our small group this week, the leader asks about the ways in which we worship every day. My eyes flood with tears as I extol the glory of God in golden leaves illuminated by the morning sunrise.

And the tears, maybe they are messengers from God reminding me that I really do believe, because there are times when I question. Despair sneaks in and whispers over my shoulder. I want to disappear and hide in my room because I don’t know how to use this one life for His glory. I see larger Christendom at each others’ throats over tertiary issues and I tell my husband if I didn’t know that He is real I’d think all of this church stuff is just like the man behind the green curtain.

But there are a few things that I know. Like John Newton I know it deep in bones, “I am a great sinner and Christ is a great savior.”

I know my heart, it is not pretty.

I know my hypocrisy, but any attempt to hide it only makes it worse.

I know the ways I silently measure and judge and then consider myself more spiritual because I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut.

And in spite of all I see around me, in spite of circumstances that appear to defy a good and holy God, I can’t get over the fact that I know Him. He has changed me. And even on the dark days when I want to disappear into a heap, he meets me there and lifts me up.

Linking today with Emily.