why i am not too good for God's pursuit

I have a confession to make. I have, lately, been in a funk. I've felt downcast, discouraged, weary, and a failure. After an amazing, healing, refreshing time with the Lord at our Women's Retreat a few weekends ago, I was surprised to feel this way only days after coming home. It shouldn't surprise me, because I believe that Satan is very real, and that he "attacks" us anytime we have a breakthrough with God. But it still caught me off guard. I neglected to spend any time in the Bible for a couple of days, which turned into a week, which turned into three. After awhile, I felt too distant from God to pray, beyond the occasional "help me find my car keys." I kept thinking that God just had to be so over me - my inconsistency, my self-centered focus, my stubbornness, my pride. I mean, I was sick of myself, so surely He must be even more. He did give His life for me, after all. He probably expected a little something in return.

My turning point came just this past weekend. As I prepared my Sunday School lesson on Saturday night, I knew that I had a terrible attitude about teaching, and was giving hardly any effort or thought (or prayer) to the lesson. Going to church the next morning, all I could think about was the things I don't I don't like about our church. During worship, I stood with my arms crossed and barely sang words that I knew I didn't mean. The point is, I was spiritually a wreck, and I knew it, and I couldn't figure out why I didn't just fall to my knees and cry out to God. I mean, I know Jesus. I know him as a beloved friend, my Saviour, my King... why couldn't I run to him and talk to him and listen for him?

Later that day, I determined that I was not going to let another moment pass without opening my Bible and spending some time with God. I'm in the middle of a wonderful Beth Moore study on the Psalms. It happened that the lesson I was on was all about fixing our gaze. Where we look, she explained, determines what (or who) we listen to. That determines what we feel, and in turn what we expect. How true that is in my life! I had been looking only at my circumstances - financial challenges, frustrations of parenting, disagreements with Ben - and stubbornly refusing to look up to Jesus. He was speaking, but I wasn't listening. So of course, I felt even more discouraged, and I expected that nothing was going to change.

Then I read this in one of my devotionals: "If you have a murmuring spirit, you cannot have true cheerfulness. Your cheerfulness can only spring up freely and healthily when your heart is truly at rest in God; when you are satisfied with His ways, and wishing no change in them. When this is truly the case, then your heart and mind are free, and you can rejoice in spirit (Priscilla Maurice)." If you know me well, you know that I am generally a very cheerful person. I pride myself on being light-hearted and full of joy, even in challenging circumstances. Which, I came to learn, is exactly my problem. Pride.

I've been reading a powerful book (which deserves an entire post to itself) called Blue Like Jazz. I came to a passage that so eloquently explained why I was refusing to turn to God. The author talks about his struggle to receive God's grace and forgiveness. He writes, "It seemed wrong to me not to have to pay for my sin, not to feel guilty about it or kick myself around. I love to give charity, but I don't want to be charity... I believed I was above the grace of God." I realized that I wasn't running to God for his grace because I was too proud to humbly ask for it again. I was reminded that God doesn't grudgingly pour out his grace on us, He rejoices in doing it! God loves me intensely and intimately. He doesn't want any barrier to exist between us, and He is thrilled when I break down and cry out to him, no matter how stubborn and sinful and selfish I've been. I was so humiliated by my failure to live up to expectations that I forgot that Jesus came for sinners such as me. As Donald Miller write, I am not above the charity of God.