Diggin' in those claws

What it feels like right now is that death surrounds me. Not literal death this time, but the putting to death of dreams and desires and even promises from God.

The feeling is becoming familiar to me now, though not yet exactly welcome (hah, and I flippantly named my blog “Character Welcome” in a time of sunshine!). Usually it comes when I do or experience something that doesn’t please me, but I know is right. It sounds great, but has about the effect of the heart being ripped out of the chest.

If you read my last entry or are up to date on my life at present, you probably know that currently this means leaving my household and the part of town I feel called to in this season, and moving in with my family for an undetermined amount of time. You may not know that it also means working a job that doesn’t always seem meaningful without a clue if a “career” is ever going to lend any outward legitimacy to my life. And it means clinging to God’s promises to join me to a good man and a family, instead of resorting to my own wiles to secure something mediocre.

These moments are the real deal, man. I’ve been moping around lately, secretly wondering if it’s all a scam after all, if the impossible can ever come true. All the same old beliefs about God and myself come back to taunt me, and I begin to think nothing has really changed after all.
And yet, something has changed. Because in each of these ridiculous situations, there comes a moment of truth, when it’s time to make a decision: trust or control, friendship or bitterness, hope or despair? Then this miracle happens, and it feels like a cat digging its claws in to hold on. Strength arises. Hope comes. And it’s like a coin drops into a jar, and with enough change comes a deposit of character.

The Bible has a lot to say about times like this. They’re evidence that God views us as his children (Hebrews 12). A seed is buried so that it will produce many more (John 12). A vine is pruned so that it will be more fruitful (John 15). There’s a promise of purpose over what doesn’t feel good.

There’s an even greater promise, too. Jesus died, and rose again. My pastor, Adam, commented in his Easter message that death and resurrection are always close together; once there’s death, resurrection is soon to follow. Bill Johnson said in an amazing message called “Back to our Roots:” “The process is always death, resurrection, death, resurrection, weeping in the night, joy in the morning.”

In an inconsolable fit of tears and near-tears that lasted most of my day, I opened to this, and found comfort: “What we believe is this: If we get included in Christ’s sin-conquering death, we also get included in his life-saving resurrection. We know that when Jesus was raised from the dead it was a signal of the end of death-as-the-end. Never again will death have the last word. When Jesus died, he took sin with him, but alive he brings God down to us.” That’s from Romans 6 in the Message Bible.

So it is that I am digging in, again. Choosing life, hope, love, and yes, faith in the impossible. Death now means good stuff is really close.