You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘choosing to follow Christ’s lead’ tag.

October 28, 2011
for D.
i
Someone said the test of love
Is making the hard decisions–
Choosing, for another’s sake,
Those necessary actions;
Taking the right path
Though it be
Strewn with rocks,
Watered with tears, and
Fraught with exhaustion or worse.
Love chooses what is best
For the beloved,
What must be chosen,
Shouldered, borne, done,
In spite of what might be
Preferred,
Regardless of what had been
Previously hoped.
ii
Sometimes Love means letting go–
Opening wide the door and
Allowing the loved one to
Walk out
Into a new adventure,
A new phase of the story being told:
Love writes the ending of the last
Chapter (knowing there are some
Parts that will be missed as they are
Packed away to make room for the new)
And turns the page to the next beginning,
Not letting nostalgia rob the future
Of its joy, but not insisting
On walking the next miles of the journey,
Knowing it is time,
Promising to still be waiting
With an open door.
iii
Sometimes Love means letting go–
Throwing open the cage and
Letting the bird go free,
Removing jesses, tethers,
Putting away the scissors that kept
The freedom-loving wings clipped,
Accepting the snappings of the
Wild spirit
And not hindering
The soul from seeking its own,
Perhaps its angry or foolish, way.
Love does not quibble about
What is fair or proper or usual,
But opens its coffers to give the
Requested inheritance,
Opens its arms to release the son,
And watches his form fade into
The distance
Perhaps never to return.
iv
Sometimes Love means holding on–
Standing firm on embattled ground
Till hand forgets how to let go the spear,
Till the fight has been won or
Every last ounce of strength has been
Exhausted in the attempt.
Love refuses to recant what is
True and just and right;
Love refuses to accept in its place
The darkness of deceit,
Fighting on for what is best,
Not easiest.
v
Sometimes Love means holding on–
Refusing to give in,
Refusing to throw away all hope.
Love chooses to remember,
To affirm
All that is noble and worthy and true
In the beloved,
Even when the beloved has forgotten
The meaning of those words.
vi
This love–it is not blind:
It asks of us that we not forget but forgive,
Canceling the unpaid debts,
Knowing they may never be recognized,
May never be paid,
Yet trusting in the One Who pays all debts.
And this love–it is not easy:
yes, this love is hard.
Because it does not feel as love
Should feel, we think–
All warm and soft and comfortable–
We look at it askance,
Wonder at times if we chose rightly.
One thing we can know for certain:
Choosing to make the hard choices
For the sake of the beloved
Proves love’s quality.
vii
Because sometimes Love means both
The letting go and the hanging on.
It asks of us that we open our hand
(That we not hinder)
But requires of us, strictly,
To harbor that unlikely songbird
Hope
In our heart of hearts
To sing in the darkness.
viii
Yes, sometimes Love means both
The letting go and the hanging on.
And that is why Love is . . .
A father scanning the horizon
Day after day
Waiting for his son’s return,
For that speck in the distance
To take on his child’s familiar gait
And then for those beloved features
To come into clearer focus as the
Wanderer returns.
That’s why Love is . . .
The only-begotten Son, the Promised King
Accepting the rejection of His people,
Dying the death
Of a vile criminal at their request
To secure a greater deliverance
Than they could dream for themselves,
Losing His hold over them in order to
Hold onto them forever.
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Nov 29, 2010

I was wrestling the other day with a wrong (or perhaps a series of wrongs), committed by a loved one. I wasn’t sure what to do with them in my own mind. When I read Psalm 62, verse 12 jumped out at me: “Also unto Thee, O LORD, belongeth mercy: for Thou renderest to every man according to his work.” Of course, this is going to sound like I am stating the obvious, but I realized that no one is big enough to handle the consequences of his wrongs. And I didn’t want that person to pay for the wrongs. I truly did (do) want mercy for that person.

But I also want the consequences to be taken care of, the wrongs to be fixed or made ok or made right somehow. Because it’s not only ourselves that must deal with the consequences–it’s those around us.

As I talked with God about it (or perhaps just TO Him at that point), He brought the Ultimate Payment to mind. Jesus’ death pays all debts. But the question I still have is this: if I stand here with the wrongs in my hand, can I truly accept the exchange of those wrongs for Christ’s blood and suffering? I mean, do I really want that? His death? His blood? I don’t want blood. I don’t want more suffering. That’s just one more wrong to be made right.

Maybe I have the wrong idea about the exchange. Maybe the exchange isn’t wrongs for blood; maybe the exchange is wrongs for grace and mercy. Mercy for the one(s) who wronged me; grace for me as I grapple with the consequences. And maybe living through the consequences is part of entering into the sufferings of Christ–following His lead as He entered into our consequences: “surely He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows”; “but He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed.” [fyi: those last two verses were quoted from memory, not carefully copied, so the punctuation, at least, is prob not quite right]

And I have been trying to follow His lead; I just seem to be doing a poor job, slipping and tripping a lot.

Oh, God of dust and rainbows, help us see That without dust the rainbow would not be. ~ Langston Hughes

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