Hot Tears
Halleluh, Halleluh, Halleluh, Hallelujah
PRAISE YE THE LORD!
(yelled at the top of our lungs)
Glitter, yarn and glue projects crafted with the best of intentions– mostly lacking discernibility– but met with such enthusiasm from my mom.
Orange drink provided by the local burger chain and pink iced oatmeal cookies; two snacks endowed with the superpower of transporting me back to my elementary days.
And felt figures.
Never forget the felt figures.
Before DVD’s, multimedia presentations and dramas set to soundtracks there were felt boards. The stories of Jesus and his disciples, and the greats of old– of lions, whales, giants and an ark full of animals– gloriously acted out on a one-dimensional display.
Behold, the backdrop of my salvation experience: Vacation Bible School.
In rooms of chaos, proctored by enthusiastic but exhausted volunteers, I heard the truth over and over again… Jesus loves me. Died for me. Wants to be with me forever.
I believed them.
Better yet, I believed Him.
My parents were at the beginning of their quest for Jesus as well. As it was, there was no better time in recent history than the early seventies for such a journey. Churches were exploding with people looking for truth. Here in Orlando, a large plot of land by Disney was cleared out of its cow patties (one year by me and my homegroup) making way for a decade of Jesus Festivals every summer. We camped out there for a week each year and listened to the best worship bands and speakers from early morning until midnight. I LOVED it. The festivals produced a hunger that demanded the churches to step up. It was a thrilling time to be a Christian. I relish it as an experience that brought my family closer to God and each other.
Loving Jesus and loving others came easy to me.
You know what did not? grace. For others, yes, but for myself, no.
What do I mean by grace?
definition: a manifestation of favor or goodwill; forgiveness, charity, mercifulness.
Do you know why I did not give myself grace? I thought God held me to a different standard. Since I knew Him, loved Him, and learned so much about Him in my early life I felt that every time I sinned that its weight upon my in-progress-sanctification was heavier because I knew better. I was disappointing Him. Not just the sad kind of disappointment, but the “turn your face away” kind. I knew scripturally that I was wrong, but could not reconcile it in the foundation of my actual heart. So I hid in the best place I could. In public… in church. I would sing the worship songs and mean it. After all, my issue was not with God, it was with myself. With every uncaptive thought, every selfish desire and every sin, I withdrew further into my own reasoning and judgment. Longing to be free, but convinced I was not worthy, I grieved for what I used to have and began to fear death (still kinda do). Still, to the onlookers of my life, I was doing great. I prayed, sang, lifted my hands and lived life as usual. But at night I cried. The deep grieving, sad, lonely kind of
hot tears.
Hot tears are the ones that seems to just crest over your lid as you lie down. You feel their warmth over your cheek and neck as they tumble down and soak your pillow. You don’t even try to brush them away, nor do they bring concern from anyone laying next to you because they fall in silence. The kind you don’t know how to explain to anyone. I longed for a way out of the cavern I carved out in my own head. Fortunately, my foundation was strong enough to keep me from choosing alternate avenues of “freedom” (or rather other entrapments) ie: alcohol, drugs, sex, etc. Although I’m sure that if given the right opportunity that very well could have been me. The very desire of getting lost in the “relief” of such things caused me the heavy guilt that probably would have accompanied actually doing them.
Do you want to know what pulled me out of that hell? If you’re thinking God, well yes and no. God through relationships.
Not forsaking or neglecting to assemble together [as believers], as is the habit of some people, but admonishing (warning, urging, and encouraging) one another, and all the more faithfully as you see the day approaching.
Hebrews 10:25 (AMPC)
Real, nitty gritty, sickening honest friendships became my ladder out of the abyss of my own brain. I was going to give you some of my real life issues, but at this point it seems insignificant to the point.
My story may not seem impressive to some. In fact, it may appear whiney and self-indulgent.
“There is a real world with real world problems of rape, divorce, murder, addictions etc.and you are crying hot tears because you don’t think God can forgive you? Or wants you?!!” Yes, yes I am.
Are you?
Feeling abandoned by your God, or like you never deserve to be in His presence is a crippling thought. So is the sin of pride. David knew it as he wrote:
Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Psalm 51:10
No matter our background. No matter our circumstances. Our personal story of rescue is the same: I am a sinner in need of a savior.
If those words fall short of their meaning, insert new ones. Use Bonnie Tyler’s if you need to.
When we realize this, we all fall to our knees and cry out to God together in a cry He probably hears collectively– He heard it coming from the very beginning and rushed to prepare his Christ answer. After His rescue response, He gives us the truth for our every day, available to soak every moment in His words. AND then He moves us to allow ourselves to these lively God-given relationships in which we don’t allow each other to retreat into the caverns of our hearts once again.
God’s grace IS sufficient for both you and me.
Talk to Him. Talk to others. Guarantee you they have soaked a few pillows with hot tears too.
