Safety.

What is my object in life? I hide away, afraid to step out. I mark and label boxes, and place inside the unacceptable parts of me. They are stacked neatly away. Just in case of a fire. Is my object, then, safety? It certainly is safe to hide away. I can walk quite normally about, unafraid that I might be seen.
Oh dear. To be seen. That would plunge my heart into turmoil. Would I be unacceptable....or worse....Would I be unintelligible? So much of who I am seems to be lost in translation, that it becomes easier to hide away. To forget parts of me. To masquerade as someone else. Some one understandable. Quantifiable.  
But oh what a dead place safety is. What a damp, dark habitat my soul becomes. And oh how tired. To unpack those boxes and remember my self would demand vulnerability, persistence, and freedom. Things I cannot have on my own. 

And maybe that's the point. 

In the act of opening, I must trust in someone greater to love me enough to give me the freedom to be persistently vulnerable. To be able to trust in those who say they love me. Then I can pull out the artifacts from the boxes and set them back in their places. 
Safety. It's dangerous and alluring. Lonely and deadening. Vulnerability and trust? Painful and honest. But beautifully freeing. 

Guest Post

http://www.carolinecollie.com/

: )

Unlovely Love.

Do you ever sometimes feel like the very worst version of yourself? I do. And then I'm reminded....


Unlovely Love
The unlovely parts of me,
    tumbled deep within my soul,
 call from the hidden furrows
    entrenched in cloud and mist.


The unlovely parts of me,
    are dark and twisted things.
 intent on veiled silence,
    yet crying in the cold.


The unlovely parts of me,
    wreathed in fear and shame,
 quieted by failures numbered
    and lost in darkened moors.


The unlovely parts of me,
    first drew your heart to mine
 through the fog of doubt,
    the torch glimmered amongst the trees.


The unlovely parts of me
    collapsed in numb dampness
 I fell, enfolded in your arms.
    the light flickered at our feet.


The unlovely parts of me,
   all broken, shattered, tired,
 sat there, with you, in the glade.
   In stillness. In peace.


The unlovely parts of me,
    began to dissolve in warmth
 icy fingers tingled with sence,
    awoken to movement and touch.


The unlovely parts of me
    breathed in the breath of Life
 my soul, in lyrical freedom,
    became the birdsong of dawn.


I find that my soul, though it is filled with shame, longs to be seen. So intent on being silent, yet crying out with no sound....longing to be heard. And you are heard. You are seen. We are loved. Even the unlovely bits. Jesus has a messy love for us. It doesn't conform, and it is most certainly not convenient. Sometimes it demands that I accept it and believe it, when all I long to do is stay curled up in an over-sized jumper in a cold corner. He loves me at inconvenient times, and in rather inconvenient ways. I want to believe the worst, He speaks the best over me. 


It's taken a long time for me to let myself accept His love, or the beginnings of it. My perfectionist aims starved my soul for the very thing it craved, telling it, 'This is off limits. You don't deserve this. Don't eat of it. Put it to the side, unwrapped, like a longed for and delicious piece of dark chocolate.' I was treating His love like an elaborate French dessert, rather than a warming soup or a sustaining piece of fresh bread. His love is definitely both (it's what we need and it's so much more - a delicacy). But in my twisted and tangled desires to be perfect for myself and all those around me, I starved myself from the very SOURCE I desperately needed. Like I said....twisted and tangled. Is your heart craving love? Is it shriveling up and dying? I found that in telling myself that His love was off limits, that I must strive and DO to earn the right to stand before Him (cause heaven forbid if I came to Him broken and vulnerable!), it was then that the very parts of my soul that made me ME started to die. Without sustainance, we die. 


When I open my hands wide to receive Love....Oh my. The relief and joy my soul feels is akin to one who, after hours of trying to wash a permanent stain out, is handed a clean and vibrant new shirt....of one who climbing the same mountain for years turns a corner that was there all the time and realises that the need to climb is gone....the view is right there before her. 

It is in this act of surrender that I realise afresh how great and beautiful Jesus is. I wish my broken words could describe Him, but they will always fall short. I can't wait until I can see Him face to face. Until then, it's in the quietness and stillness that I'll know and remember....He is Lord. And our Lord is Love. 


My soul rejoices in His unlovely love.