Confession: I write notes to myself.

It’s been a while… I’m not sure that this will be a blog entry – it’s too unpolished. I just haven’t written to myself in quite a while, and I’d like to again.

I think I’m in a mood – I’m not sure what that mood is exactly. Something in which I don’t know what I want. Part of me wants to curl up on my bed and not get up for a long while. The other part is really craving human company. It would be so much simpler if I could just figure out whether I want one or the other.

And I know… ‘humans are complex’. We don’t make sense.

We don’t make sense to ourselves anyway… it’s kind of a comforting thought that I make sense to God… I’m not sure that I do to anyone else, including myself.

I don’t have any profound thoughts on life tonight. Just that I really take comfort in the thought that God knows my desires better than I do.

An Unexpected Catharsis

Love others for the little love that they are able to give.

I exist to share God’s love in the imperfect way that I can, not to be God and to save people for him. If I do the saving, then they don’t need God. And how arrogant of an attitude is that in me?

God is teaching me volumes about love… and not in the way I would expect. Rather than giving me people to love, he’s taking people away from me – people that I have been inclined to ‘save’ rather than love, though before I couldn’t see the difference. Because of God, we are free to love without an agenda, to love others without needing to save them, because Jesus has already done that. It’s not our responsibility.

Granted, at the time of the tearing away, I couldn’t see the point. In any of it. I was hurting; I was upset; I couldn’t see a purpose. But the small distinction that I failed to note was that I couldn’t see my purpose.

I thought I knew what God was doing and why, and (go figure) I was wrong again.

And you know… I’m glad I was wrong. Because God is stretching me and helping me to grow in completely unexpected ways.

I like not being able to figure him out.