January 20, 2013


I have been in a March season, a Tuesday season, a 10:17 a.m season of life. What am I talking about? That time when nothing noteworthy is going on, and there is nothing in the immediate future to be excited about, but I am tired anyway and I find it hard to focus. It's that glancing at the clock more often than I should time; that read the same line of the Bible over and over because I'm too distracted to process it's meaning time; that, 'I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?' time. Everyone else seems more important than me, cuter than me, more magnetic than me. In fact, most days I feel like a repellant, like I am emitting some kind of scent that even dogs can smell as they slump away from me with their tails between their legs.

Ok, so that might be going a little too far, but perhaps now you have an idea of where I was at, coming in to this conference. Call it home-school-mom syndrome, or an early mid-life crisis, or low estrogen (which the Thai doctor here agrees with, Korrie:), or even a version of normalcy, or all of the above (my personal opinion) but above all else I think I had forgotten.

Forgetting is a terribly destructive thing to do.

Forgetting what, you might ask? Forgetting that my life is not about me, and therefore not about my happiness, nor my comfort, nor my glory. Forgetting that I don't deserve anything good, but rather I deserve to have the fires of hell nipping at my ankles. Anything "good" that does come my way, in addition to my guaranteed place in Heaven, is just a bonus.

Jesus wasn't cute. He repelled almost everyone in his last days on Earth. He smelled like death. But He didn't stay that way. He didn't stay that way, and that is my hope. Because you see, I am a disciple of Jesus, and He once told all of His disciples that where He is, there we will one day be.


I needed to remember that.