My attendance at this church of blogs has been sporadic this past week. The loving congregation is mighty, and so very full of words and pictures and love.
Conversing with each “promptly” as I have liked for so long is becoming a job rather than an expression of love and affection:
If I do not reply to a comment quickly, if I do not read every post “quickly” – or maybe ever at all – if I do not write my own words and press publish … then I am letting myself down, letting you down, letting Him down. The “job mentality” is creeping into my heart. The good stuff remains, always will. Yet my eyes are seeing Him less. My head is seeing an increasing list to read and a gap in my own writing. My heart is looking in more – and looking out less.
About “what will they think” … about “am I hitting my own standard I imposed” … about “stuff” not of Him or of you or of Love.
In the space left by a quiet keyboard He brought me the wonderful Heather (http://insideheathershead.com/), and He brought me the wonderful Denine (http://de9k.wordpress.com/). He brings me all of you as He desires – one at a time – at the perfect time.
Because you each have Him within. All of us connected. All of us dirt family. His family. And Heather and Denine reminded me I do not have to worry (even less than I think “is okay”). That I simply have Love.
That love does not have a date stamp and a best by-date. To remember that this church of blogs is a church of Him. Not a church where I must attend every day to “look good” – to look like I belong – to fit in – to impress you and you and … It is a church – a “proper church” – of Love. Nothing added, nothing taken out. Just Love.
So whilst my love in this wonderful church grows, He wants me to realise that pounding the blogs, bashing out my blog each day, shaking your hand as soon as you write, tapping out a few words, pressing the like button, pretending my reading list is not actually taking over, all of that kind of stuff … should always be of love. Not to become another job. Another list.
That kind of love is not love. It is fitting in. It is of work. It is of transaction – and creeps in so effortlessly. And it has no place here. Nor anywhere.
It has no place in family. And especially not His family. It has no place in my heart. Because it simply drives a wedge between Him and me and you and you and … And that is what I see written about with sadness so often here. About so many solid-non-virtual churches we like to call “family.”
And I had not intended to write any of these words this morning. Not as they are written and read here.
What I wanted to say that was this: for the second time since coming to this church He has asked me to step back. To restore my life and relationship with Him first and foremost. In private. He wants me. All of me. And what a gut-wrenching gift that is.
Because I have wondered if this is what others refer to as a “dry patch”. He said He has no idea what a dry patch is.
I wondered if I was (again) being asked to stop writing. Just like last time. He looked at His hands and shook a little. Smothering an explosion of laughter.
I wondered if this was maybe a “retreat”. He chuckled at that word. Not a going back – never a going back. Always a stepping forwards.
I wondered if I was missing something? He sighed His wonderful loving sigh.
Not missing something, Paul. Getting something. Something important.
He has words. We have words. Strap yourselves in. Because – oh boy – is there a bunch of words brewing inside!
Yet today He whispers (again) …
Not yet, Paul. Not yet.