You Win Some, You Lose Some

Nine of ten days, rain.

The darkness of it all is not the same as winter's airless tomb. Lack of sunlight is disagreeable, yet one can still step outside and feel air on the skin. Grass is wet and alive under bare feet and the smell of dank earth still makes every pore tingle a little with gratitude and overwhelm. It is easier to know the expanse of God, ankle deep in puddles with floating earwigs and loosened blooms than in the cocooned and bitter freeze of February.

The sheer abomination of writing February at the end of June.

All this exposition on life and yet some of the plants are not going to make it through these rains. I make the rounds, cut off black rot and mold, and move the ones I can move. But ah, you win some, you lose some.

The nausea of sleepless nights also reigns. Coffee doesn't work during the day anymore but a newfound call to discomfort and mortification says, “Don't nap. Don't give in. Deny yourself in order to arrive some where else.”

Also therefore, meeting is not about cake and eating it too. Not anymore.

I get the “death to self” and “serve others” vibe from Jesus when I look at His way and His life.

But then I look at my life: how I have been bred, if you will, to serve others, husband, kids, community, etc. I have contorted myself to live according to a set of standards and expectations of others, which I made and adopted into my own. But the Jesus way fits into that even. It confuses me.

Must I abandon myself out of love?

Someone said there is no such thing as one way liberation. I can buy that. I can. But can Christ?