Voices
“These are the voices
[…]
We make the choices”
-“Voices”, Michael W. Smith
I had just turned off the highway when the voices started. I had momentarily wondered if this would happen, but hadn't really prepared for it.
It was Sunday and I was on my way to visit a “new” church. A preceding strange day had meant that I attended my own church the night before, and so was left with a free morning. I'd been slightly intrigued by the Foursquare church I'd visited in Indian Hills several months before for a conference and had since meant to visit. With an otherwise-free Sunday, it was time.
Indian Hills...the town where my ex-girlfriend's parents live. I remember many trips up here, both with and without that particular young lady. For the conference, I had carpooled with a friend, but now here I was, driving through the quiet mountain town alone. That is, alone but for the voices in my head. Some were of my ex and her family, piling guilt on me, loading up condemnation in my backpack that wasn't mine to carry. A few were my own, doing some wishing and some shoulding.
Lately, God seems to have been giving the lesson first, then the test immediately after. I'm thankful for this rather than the more usual “test then teach” construction. As I drove, I was also pondering Jim's words from the night before. As I mentioned last time, Jim was preaching from Romans 8. Verses 33-34 say
“Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one.”
Jim highlighted that often the one who condemns us the most, who “won't let us up off the mat”, is ourselves. After a good friend highlighted my habit of negative self-talk several years ago, I've slowly improved my opinion of myself, but that doesn't always do anything about what others have said about me. In this case, the unhealthy people were no longer in my life, but the words were; both theirs and mine.
Halfway up Parmalee Gulch Road, I realized that all that stuff is really water under the bridge. It's the past, and the past is gone. No-one can judge me for the stuff that happened ever so long ago, not even me. Jesus even paid for that. For me.
From there, my day lightened. I got to church early and without "winter driving excitement" spent time with God and “just happened” to be invited to the church lunch afterwards. Encouragement, free food, and time with God – a pretty good Sunday, all in all.
Oddly, the sermon at the church I visited was about “blessing” and “cursing” and how our words and thoughts can have supernatural effects. Almost as if God had planned that. Weird how that works...
Five years ago this week, I was reading cue cards to a pretty girl over plates of good Mexican food. This year, I'm setting down all the stuff that I carry from that time of my life. There's been junk renting space in my head, but that's over. All y'all gotta get out now, your time is past and your lease is up. Out!
Thus God continues to be good to me in ways that I can't imagine and can barely explain.
[…]
We make the choices”
-“Voices”, Michael W. Smith
I had just turned off the highway when the voices started. I had momentarily wondered if this would happen, but hadn't really prepared for it.
It was Sunday and I was on my way to visit a “new” church. A preceding strange day had meant that I attended my own church the night before, and so was left with a free morning. I'd been slightly intrigued by the Foursquare church I'd visited in Indian Hills several months before for a conference and had since meant to visit. With an otherwise-free Sunday, it was time.
Indian Hills...the town where my ex-girlfriend's parents live. I remember many trips up here, both with and without that particular young lady. For the conference, I had carpooled with a friend, but now here I was, driving through the quiet mountain town alone. That is, alone but for the voices in my head. Some were of my ex and her family, piling guilt on me, loading up condemnation in my backpack that wasn't mine to carry. A few were my own, doing some wishing and some shoulding.
Lately, God seems to have been giving the lesson first, then the test immediately after. I'm thankful for this rather than the more usual “test then teach” construction. As I drove, I was also pondering Jim's words from the night before. As I mentioned last time, Jim was preaching from Romans 8. Verses 33-34 say
“Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one.”
Jim highlighted that often the one who condemns us the most, who “won't let us up off the mat”, is ourselves. After a good friend highlighted my habit of negative self-talk several years ago, I've slowly improved my opinion of myself, but that doesn't always do anything about what others have said about me. In this case, the unhealthy people were no longer in my life, but the words were; both theirs and mine.
Halfway up Parmalee Gulch Road, I realized that all that stuff is really water under the bridge. It's the past, and the past is gone. No-one can judge me for the stuff that happened ever so long ago, not even me. Jesus even paid for that. For me.
From there, my day lightened. I got to church early and without "winter driving excitement" spent time with God and “just happened” to be invited to the church lunch afterwards. Encouragement, free food, and time with God – a pretty good Sunday, all in all.
Oddly, the sermon at the church I visited was about “blessing” and “cursing” and how our words and thoughts can have supernatural effects. Almost as if God had planned that. Weird how that works...
Five years ago this week, I was reading cue cards to a pretty girl over plates of good Mexican food. This year, I'm setting down all the stuff that I carry from that time of my life. There's been junk renting space in my head, but that's over. All y'all gotta get out now, your time is past and your lease is up. Out!
Thus God continues to be good to me in ways that I can't imagine and can barely explain.
posted by The student of life at 9:12 PM
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