Dirt Floor Moments

Jesus once was telling a story. It started with two men and one request. One man said “of course I’ll do it!” and then trotted off to forget about the command in the sea of the rest of his day. The other said “you know what, I don’t really feel like it,” but later went and completed the task.

One of these men was obedient. The other was a fraud.

I’m writing this today to tell you that I’m a fraud. That’s right – time and time again, I am the first man from the story. I am the very one from whom God asks a favor, and I reply enthusiastically that it will be done. And then I run off and forget. The worst part is, however, that I don’t actually forget.

The Spirit of God is a Nagger. When I know I’m neglecting what He’s asked of me, when I’m throwing away obedience, I can feel it within me. Like a pebble I can’t shake from my shoe. For some people, this kind of conviction calls them to attention and they find their rightful track almost immediately.

For me, however, this sense of nudging conviction and guilt, the warning within me, lately seems to be sliding off me like butter on a hot griddle.

But I’m starting to burn – starting to burn with the realization that lately I’ve been feeling “far from God.”

One hears Christians say this a lot: “I am going through a dry spell.” Now, personally, I don’t credit that term with any real foundation. I don’t think that God withholds His Spirit or His Revelation from His people who are hungry. Those chords of connection are cut by us and us alone. It’s not that God has declared a drought on your spiritual life…sometimes you’ve just got to pick up a hose and fill your own watering can.

I admit that I haven’t been the best gardener these past few days. I am not going through a dry spell, nor do I feel like God has abandoned me, but I know something’s off.  The ease and flow of knowing Jesus and making Him known was so simple and straightforward the first few weeks of this journey in Uganda, and  there were times when I felt like more of an effective vessel than ever before.

But tonight I had a hard time praying out loud before dinner.

What is THAT about?

I’m waking up every day in what the Christian community would call a “missional context.” I have left my home, raised obscene amounts of money, and been incarnated into a completely unfamiliar culture for the sake of the One I now have to strain to communicate with.

How does that work?

On the outside, I appear joyful, secure in my spirituality, and fervent for the Gospel. I suppose those things are true, they haven’t changed. But take a look at my day, take a trip inside my head as Bono would call it, and you’ll see that the overwhelming majority of my daily thoughts and actions are not God-focused at all. 

They are me-focused.

Have you ever seen that slogan on bumper stickers that goes, “If you’re feeling far from God, who moved?”

I’ve moved. I’ve crept slowly away from my devoted life to my Savior, and closer and closer to my own ambition and desire.

It starts in small ways with me, the same every time. Little compromises in discipline are always my downfall.

Do I really need to read more than my daily devotion in my Bible today? Do I really have to write another blog post tonight, anyway? Why should I care how much money I’m spending? I’ll read my Bible after I finish this great novel I’m into. I’ll write more blog entries once I get steady internet to post them. I’ll ration my spending money in a week or so.

Sure, Lauren. Sure.

These small things – small acts of obedience – start slipping through the cracks. And pretty soon, the lines of communication between me and Jesus suddenly seem like we’re talking with bad cell phone reception. And it’s me who is out of range.

I’ve known for some time now that I am a fraud. My friends and family who claim admiration for me don’t know how easily and how often I slip into dark periods of non-obedience. They don’t know that sometimes it is a fight for me to be used by God.

But luckily, it IS a fight. Even when I’ve been knocked flat, Jesus never leaves my corner. He makes sure I’m not out for the count. I flutter in and out of consciousness, aware that I’ve been the agent of my own downfall.

But His voice grips me in those darkest moments.

I wrote earlier about so-called “Rooftop Moments.” The moments I’m speaking about here, however, I like to call Dirt Floor Moments.

Because Jesus Christ fights for you, because His presence nags you, because you long for the sweetness of His companionship, the only choice you have is to get off that floor and dust the dirt off.

I’m ashamed of the timing I’ve been missing by ignoring God’s voice in my life lately. I grieve the revelations I’ve missed, the opportunities I’ve wasted to get to know my Savior more every day. And I especially regret the moments He tried to use me to bless others, but I was not available for use.

I’ve been asleep, and I’ve missed a lot.  My life can never be enjoyed unless it is lived in the constant company and grace of Jesus Christ.

So now I know what I have to do. It’s so much more simple than my mind has been telling me for these past few days (or, if I’m honest, weeks).

All I have to do is obey.

I am a child today. I’ve realized I’m not mature or equipped enough to handle life on my own, so I must revert back to the childlike eagerness of awaiting a command from a loving Father. From now on, I will be desperate to please no one but Him.

I’ve been behaving like Martha from the Gospels: scrambling to secure every façade of piety and wisdom before my guests, while Jesus simply asks me to sit at His feet. I need to be more like Mary – to find and to recognize the greatest gift, and know it will not be taken away from me if I only embrace it.

I can tell you this much: that gift is not my pride, and that gift is not my own understanding. I will stop living by those.

So maybe Jesus has the same message to you today. Maybe He is calling you from the unconscious mess of the boxing ring of your own life. I can’t speak for Him, and I can’t speak for you, but all I know is that you can sacrifice your entire summer and fall semester of college to seek and preach Jesus, and still end up feeling far from Him.

But He is a strange God…He requires obedience above sacrifice. One makes you resent Him, the other brings you closer to Him.

Let everything you do be done out of obedience to God the Father. Everything you’ve been given is His.

Today I’m making a choice. It’s nobody’s business what God is asking me to do, or what those nudges in my spirit have been saying to me. But if I want to get closer to Jesus, I’m going to have to say yes.  I’m going to have to be an obedient daughter.

So now you know the truth about me. I am not sacrificing anything to be here or to do what I’m doing. Most of the time, I am a fraud who hides behind other people’s goodwill towards me. I am keenly aware of my lack of understanding, of my poisonous pride, every day of my life. And I still sometimes choose it over Jesus.

But I serve a God who visits me on this dirt floor. He sits down next to me, my confused and disillusioned self, and gives me yet another blessed, hopeful chance.  

All that matters now is that I take it.

Everything bad you see in me is Lauren. Everything good you see in me is Jesus.

The only good decisions I truly make in life are the ones where I take the hand of the Savior, offered to me in every Dirt Floor Moment. I know I’m late, I know I’m weak, but today, I’m taking His hand.

And you can too.