Escaping Alcatraz

It's Sunday night, and I'm thinking about everything I didn't get done to prepare for what I have to do this week, and I'm looking at the next few weeks feeling like there is no way in the world I can get all this done, not even if it goes perfectly, and I have spent the last two days with tension-induced sinuses caused from trying to figure out how to get everything done.

And here is the God's honest truth--pride is a prison.

And I can walk into that cell, lock the door behind me, and toss the key out the window with the best of them.

Pride says I need to do it all, be it all, succeed at it all because if I don't....

People might think less of me.

It might take longer to reach the end.

Folks might think I'm a quitter, and I abhor that idea.

It means I took the easy way out, the coward's way out.

Did I mentionpride is like the Alcatraz of mental prisons?

But you know what humility says? It says...

Being human is just that. Human.

Being wise is not weakness. I can't do it all, so what is the most important?

Maybe I really are supposed to do it all. Maybe I need to find a better way through, not a way out?

Putting down something that doesnt' have to be done so I can do what has to be done well is not quitting. It's prioritizing.

The right thing to do isn't push harder but pull myself to a stop...and pray...and listen...and hear God. This road is His doing. He has the map and the list of supplies that are necessary and just a burden.

Psalm 32:8 says:

I will instruct you and teach you in teh way you should go;

I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.

Pride is concerned with how I look to others.

Humility is concerned with how closely I walk with HIm.

I'll be honest. I don't know what will stay or go or if I will just find a new way to do it all, but I can tell you what i won't do.

I won't let pride make that decision for me.

I will humble myself before the Lord that He may lift me up in HIs timing (James 4:10). I will seek His face, not others' approval. I will be still because in the stillness, He becomes clearly God (Psalm 46:10). I will trust HIm to teach me to order my days aright that I may gain a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:12).

Instead of worrying about how I look to others, I will look to Him for peace.

I don't know what you have to do this week, but I pray in it you find Him and thus, find in Him, the way to handle all of it.

Stay on the journey.

Jerri

--Jerri L. Kelley--

--www.jerrikelley.com--

Lent Day 33--Love is not Proud

How can this cracked cup be proud of the wee bit of water barely offering a drink? If loving Him is offering a whole cup, I am wholly inadequate. And this flimsy flesh slaps another hard blow across my already bleeding back, and I lay the cover open for others to see the scars...to see the blood and the broken...and I am proud I know just how flimsy I am.

Pride is a lie whether it boasts too much or boasts too little.

And the broken cup I like to display is trash, not treasure, in the eyes of a God who leaves nothing broken because broken is ill-equipped but He fully equips, and this arrogance of need I like to flaunt as holy makes Him wholly ill.

If pride goes before fall, pride must go before I fall on my knees, and I confess it isn't about my brokenness but about His, and it isn't about my knowing I'm cracked but my knowing Him on Calvary. It is not about being mangled. It is about being masterpiece.

How can one bring glory as a Savior's masterpiece when I'm flaunting the arrogance of being a saved mess? The masterpiece is for His glory; repeatedly acknowledging I'm a mess is for mine.

And I am disgusted. And again, the pride goes, and I fall, and, God, save me from this mess I am and give me the mind of masterpiece so I live as a piece of the Master.

A masterpiece does not take pride in being magnificent or mangled. Instead, if finds joy and peace in knowing it is a loved and priceless piece of its Master.

Lent Day 33--Remember: Love is not Proud

Love is patient. Love is kind.
It does not envy.
It does not boast. It is not proud.

If there is nothing to boast of, there is no boasting.

Love is patient. Love is kind.
It does not envy.
It does not boast. It is not proud.

When love sees the wonder of the craftsman, how can the crafted be proud?

Love is patient. Love is kind.
It does not envy.
It does not boast. It is not proud.

Don't skip the scripture to see the words between.
The only thing between that matters is the love.

Love is patient. Love is kind.
It does not envy.
It does not boast. It is not proud.

Honestly

Last night I was graced with the opportunity to read a friend's manuscript--a last proofing before it goes to the publisher. She thought I was doing her a favor. HA! I finished it and cried fat, hot tears for 45 minutes or so.

Since my husband moved out and my mom was diagnosed with cancer, I have often been told how brave I am, how inspiring I am, how encouraging I am.

Last night I was honest about how broken I am.

As I poured my honest feelings out, I felt like my heart was being sent through a shredder. All the things I wanted to keep hidden oozed out, and the pain felt overwhelming, and honestly, I hated that. But, in the midst of it, I also felt found...by my friend that I poured my heart out to...by the God who never left, just waited until I would let Him close enough for Him to whisper tenderly again. And honestly, that felt so good.

Jesus said God wants people who worship in spirit and in truth. Spirit, I can do. Truth...well, I'm better at worship Him in spirit and perform-well. I'd much rather tell Him what I think He wants to hear, what I think others will find acceptable, or what makes me look good.

While those genres look good, they don't feel good. They never allow me to feel His love and acceptance for me as I am. My longing to be loved never gets filled, and that creates a wound all its own. Also, if I am not honest about the depth of my hurt, I will never see His greatness in the depth of His healing. Why be grateful for steak if I don't think I'm hungry? And, if I never acknowledge that my knees are buckling under the load I am carrying, why would I see the need for another to help or ever understand the compassion that removes it from my shoulder?

No, not everyone will understand the honest part of me. Unfortunately, there will be those who feel the need to offer advice...that is useless and grates on my nerves. Yes, there will sometimes be finger pointing and whispering. They simply won't get it...won't get me. However...

I choose not to worship humans. I choose to worship God.

Thankfully, God has never turned away anyone who sought Him honestly, and He's never withheld good things from people who put themselves in His hand. And even if no one else gets me, I know He will...honestly.

The Truth About My Uncensored Life-map...It's Not Just for Me

I hate when I sit down to write something, and it doesn't come out like I want. It happens all the time on my blog, and really, I have got to find a solution.

Sometimes when I'm way behind on journalling, I'll type it in to save time. It comes out sounding like a factual research paper, which isn't the point. I don't need a bulleted life-notes version of happenings. I want the emotion, the thoughts, the depth of my being to be on those pages because I may need to go back and read them to get my bearings or someone else may need that information to get their bearings. The world will not be a better place if I objectively record my life. However, if I am willing to dig deep, be honest even when I hate it and hate how it makes me look or feel, THAT has the potential to make a difference because THAT is where people will find themselves.

It is so easy to sit here behind my keyboard and create a poetic world filled with romanticized heartache and prettified pain. It is so easy to make questions and doubts look lovely and admirable. But what happens when those delicately woven words and intricately devised imagines on the screen slam into real life at the kitchen table, in the bedroom, at the altar, or in one's own journal? What happens when real life destroys the illusion and there are no editor's cuts when the scenes get intense and we can't cut to commercials?

What then?

What about the daughter who feels like she will never measure up to her mom's outrageous expectations? What about the wife who puts on that new silky gown and he rolls over and faces the wall...again?  What about the mom who looks at her teenage daughter and is scared to death that beautiful, pure heart standing before her will become the broken woman she now is? What about the woman who has done everything to stand and feels she cannot stand anymore but does not have the freedom to fall on her knees at the altar because she's afraid she'll get pointing fingers instead of helping hands? So instead, she raises her hands, controls the quiver in her voice, fights back the tears in her eyes, and lies about how fine she is...one more time.

What about her?

What about all those hearts who feel they are the only ones hurting that bad because no one else admits she is...because I don't admit I am?

I don't like to talk about how much I struggle. I would far rather tell people the latest revelation I received, how I was victorious in something, or how God blessed me.

But I don't read the Psalms to hear how strong David was. I read them to hear how hard it was and how he chose to trust anyway. I read about Joseph because I want to know I'm not the only one whose visions don't line up with circumstance. I read about Jesus in the Garden because I don't always like the cup I'm given.

I don't read about these people to commiserate or wallow. I read them to help me keep walking, to help me keep believing. I read the great things God did for and through them to build my faith that He can do those things for and through me.

That's what I want to be for anyone else who reads this blog, who reads my articles, who hears me speak formally or informally. However, David's story is not told in perfect prose. Joseph in a dungeon because he was falsely accused and forgotten by someone he helped is not romantic rhyme. And Jesus on a cross was so offensive even God couldn't stand to look.

What makes me think I can write Rockwellian blogs and articles and have Dorothea Lange impact? Somehow I just don't think it works that way. Somehow I think people are looking for the ugly honesty that somehow becomes something beautiful and meaningful in the hands of an honestly amazing God. Somehow I don't think they are concerned about people saving face as much as they are concerned about knowing God can save them.

Honestly, I understand. Me too.

God, help me to never be more concerned about how I present myself than I am in presenting You.