I am learning that taking the time for Christ first in my day makes all the difference. Today was Sunday, so I didn't have the usual demands of the World to crowd in, but it was still good as I am just beginning to practice this after being off-kilter for so long. Study and meditation invited peace into my soul, and it also softened my heart for the things I needed to hear.
I was listening to another person's experience with Jesus at one of her most difficult times in life. At the close of this experience, and on her way home, she was excitedly looking forward to all the things that she could now do, as she had been on six months of bedrest prior. But at the same time, she was troubled. During her bedrest, her relationships with Jesus had gone from Him being a sculpture or a picture on a wall to being a true friend, a friend that filled her life with comfort and strength.
As she was entering this new transition, she didn't want to lose that relationship in the busy-ness of life. This is where I was coming from -- the busy-ness of life had crowded out my Savior. Could I, too, go from Jesus being just a picture on my wall to someone I had a living relationship with? Could we be friends? There have been times in my life where I truly walked with Him, needing Him to share my yoke. And He did. I was walking in faith, not knowing what the hazy horizon in front of me held. I needed to follow His will in order to stay afloat, to breathe and to survive.
But when times got easier, I started leaving Him out and walking alone. And eating.
Last night, as I ended my day on my knees, these thoughts were circling: Could we be friends? I thought of all He offers, this Creator of the universe, this Saver of Souls -- what did I have to give in return? Relationships are two-way streets, right? But who was I? My offering was so very weak, I was so weak. How could it come to pass?
In a flash, my mind carried me to a scene in "The Chosen" -- the character Mary Magdalene standing before Jesus, after she experienced a day of weakness and self-doubt. Except it wasn't Mary, it was me. She (me) had just told Him she couldn't do it.
"Do what?" He asked.
"I just can't live up to it," she said.
He responded, "Well, that's true, you can't," and she (me) nods her head.
Her eyes are cast down and she (me) is so weighed down with expectations, known and unknown, sorrow for her inadequacies, that she could hardly breathe, and she could not look up, not at that face, His face.
And He continued, "But you don't have to. I just want your heart. The Father just wants your heart. Give us that, which you already have, and the rest will come in time. Did you really think you'd never struggle or sin again?"
Mary (me) responds with a sob, "But I shouldn't have."
Jesus said, "Some day, but not here."
My tears flowed like the Nile. Not here. Not in this life. My offering will never be equal in this life, if ever. Is this why we sing "Amazing Grace" and "I Stand All Amazed"? He offers and proffers his love and grace, He offers relationship to me. To me, of all people.
Jesus loves ALL and wants a relationship with ALL. "All means everyone. If everyone, then anyone. If anyone, then even one. And if even one, then even me."
Yes, he offers friendship and so much more, and yes, I can have it. But not because of anything I can offer or prove or give. My words fail me here, and I can only end with two words that only start to explain what I feel right now in my heart. Why is that relationship possible? Because Jesus.
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