A week or two ago I was struggling with depression; through the advice of some good friends I told my parents. They encouraged me to go to our pastor, and I met with him last night. My defensive reactions and desire to be distracted told me more than enough--he was speaking the truth, and I hadn't been listening. To serve, to thank God, to pray through scripture, to wait with thankfulness--these things I had not been doing. My desire for him--or any Christian--to think well of me was all too apparent. "I" am currently the center of my life. ("Oh Christ, be the center of our lives, be the place we fix our eyes, be the center of our lives"--the song goes on to focus on Christ, not us...truth in music.)
This morning, after homework, a few chores, I read A Chance to Die (Amy Carmichael's biography by Elisabeth Elliot), or rather, a major portion of it. Carmichael's poetry is as stunning as her life is complex. Her faith, trust, singular focus, and complete dependence on God is something that brings me to my knees before God, asking for a similar heart; the way she secluded herself from the world, her view of story's role, are things I question and weigh and wonder and ponder...but overriding it all is her unfaltering determination to follow her Captain with no pride, no fear, no wavering, and no other ultimate guide. Her suffering, determination, and joy in her savior go beyond what I have known or seen. But that incredible spirit was shown in cleaning rooms, changing diapers, loving children without compromise in them or her, in trusting God for the future when He allowed death to sweep through those she cooked and cleaned for...in serving. In my prior readings of the book she had struggled with giving up evangelism for a family of seventy children (she literally couldn't do both), considering one more glorious than the other--and learning that it wasn't. Doing dishes for my sister, running an errand for my mother, picking up a piece of trash in a parking lot, that's similar if done for God's glory. Even now my desire for my own glory runs strong through it (God, forgive me!), but I am praying that I forget myself--that He focuses me on Him, and those He loves.
And then I run errands, see just a few minutes of a movie, and I have no desire to focus on God's will anymore, but merely to live in happy daydreams that will never bring glory to God. And I come home, and find someone I love is struggling--sinning, once again. God's kingdom is back, right there in my face, as I had spoken with her this morning and heard nothing, ignored what I had seen. Just as she wanted me to. Will failure ever not be bitter? Will helplessness? Or will it drive me deeper and deeper into prayer? Will I trust as Amy did? Will I give them over to Him?
And in this, I am to be thankful. Sincerely thankful--God, I thank you for the lives of prior saints, for your unshakable hold on your children, those I love, too; for your ability to calm me and banish my distrust, for showing me you, thank you, Father.
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