WORSHIP

by Shirley Lynn

I heard a soft voice whisper, "Do you love me?" A year ago I would have been insulted by such a question. My response would have been, "How can you ask me such a question? Why, of course, I love you. Don't I pray every day? Don't I give every week? Don't I teach Sunday school and go to church? Don't I try to attend to the needs of my family and the church? Haven't you been noticing how good I am?"

And yet the question still presses on my heart.

My walk with Jesus has been a short one, but I am learning when He asks a question NOT to bury it. There is another who would be glad to accommodate my immediate comfort and help me bury it for as long as I want ... weeks ... months ... years ... in the darkest recesses of my soul.

Jesus, however, is never discouraged by my foolish tendency to ignore questions I do not want to hear. He never changes. He never leaves. He just waits. He is very patient.

These periods of waiting become times of increasing restlessness and discomfort for me. At first, I sense something is slightly amiss. My peace, my joy are shadowed. I feel a little lost. I begin to think, "Now, what could be wrong?" I say longer prayers. I spend extra time reading religious books. I call a friend or the pastor. I increase my gift giving. I play every religious card in my deck.

As time goes by the discomfort intensifies. I begin to get angry with God. My agenda at prayer time is impressive and I wonder why He hasn't noticed. I review every step I have ever used to get my prayers answered. I even sometimes give up praying and go the other way ... because, after all, what good is it doing anyway? I have this childish notion that my Father will be sorry when He finds out I have run away from home.

NOTHING WORKS! I cry out angrily, "Haven't I done everything you asked? I did clean my room. I did take out the garbage. You're just not fair! You don't care about me!" It is the straw Chinese finger torture chamber at work. The harder I pull and rail against my Father, the tighter the hold and discomfort become.

It is funny now looking back on the patterns of my walk with Jesus. I am just like the toddler in a terrible-two's tantrum. I always come back to climb into a comfortable lap after I have exhausted every rebellious energy within. I seek the strong inviting arms, the loving smile. It is the only thing that matters at such times ... the warmth of being held close against my Father's warm and tender chest.

I am finally becoming aware enough to realize it as not Him that caused my pain. I bring myself torment by trying to avoid His direction and guidance. Shame taunts. Doubt and fear become dark clouds that hide Him and make me think He has left me. I am growing up enough to say, "I am sorry" instead of being mad at Him. I realize that I must go through the process of learning which impresses the Truth on me experientially, not just in empty memory exercises. I am even learning at times to recognize clues in my own behavior that I can change to avoid such discomfort.

The question resurfaces. "Do you love me?" I must admit the truth. It hurts. My love is always filtered through some weighing of what benefit I can derive from loving Him.

This breaks my heart because He has been so good to me. He rescued me from a darkness which was all encompassing. He shed a beautiful light in my life, so that I am able to look at the world around with wonder and joy instead of fear and doubt. He lifted the weight of the world from my shoulders. I no longer feel that I am the one who must save my family or the world. He is teaching me to rest in His power and wisdom.

I am beginning to cast out every anxiety that comes into my mind concerning His care for every detail of my life. I am free to choose to know without fear or doubt that He loves me far better than I love myself or my family. I am free to choose His word, acknowledging that His thoughts are higher than mine, especially when I do not understand what is going on around me. I am free to accept that His feelings for me can always be expressed in two words ... unconditional love.

How comforting that my most explosive negative emotions did not even shake Him for a moment. There is something stable in my life ... something powerful and ever present. I realize the walls around me are firmly intact. Amazing love! Knowing this produces a desire in me to please Him, to be obedient, to trust Him totally, to respond without the question the instant His command is spoken in my heart. It frees me to open all my heart, not just a part, to Him.

Now, Jesus, I think I am willing to consider your question. The barrier that hid the truth from me is removed. The truth is that I am incapable of loving you. I need you, sweet Jesus, to do even this for me. I do not know how to love you or my Father or the Holy Spirit. I sense that admitting this truth to myself and to you has removed a barrier between us, maybe the shame that hid me from the truth.

Thank you for the sure knowledge that your love is an incorruptible seed planted in my heart. It never fails. Perhaps now it can grow into the fragrant fruit that only your Spirit can produce.

God is Love and love endures all things.