...are words I never want to hear again. And when my friend said that, it felt as though the breath was knocked right out of me. My friend was right.
Jaded.
Frustrated.
Overwhelmed.
Hurt.
It was as if I woke up one morning and I emobidied these 4 words. A permanent scowl on my face and Amos 5 on a continuous loop in my head. I hate all your show. I hate your noisy clanging symbols -- just show me justice.
I took on the role of "angry Jesus" flipping over tables [proverbially] but I really didn't look like Jesus at all. I looked like a girl that was hurt and chose to check out completely. Then a sudden death in my family happened and I went deeper and deeper into "checked out" mode.
A pastor friend (out of state) challenged me about a month ago to start figuring out what my "legacy" or "fingerprint on Dallas" looks like. In what ways will I bring healing and deliverance and love to my city? It won't be through my jadedness or angry tears. I can't fix His broken Church. I can't make everyone take off their Sunday morning masks and have a weep-fest over our sin and brokenness with me. I can't force people to care about each other.
Instead of being bummed that people aren't caring for one another, I can care for you. And I can weep with you about our sin and brokenness. I can remove my Sunday morning mask so maybe you might feel freedom to do the same.
From now on, our conversations won't end in how I'm "bummed out by the Church" and will start being about the beauty and love and mercy He's shown me through Her.
I'm not where I ought to be, but by golly - I'm not where I was and that's enough for the moment.
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