how fickle my heart, how woozy my eyes

Sometimes I read through my old blog posts and have one of those half-chortle, half-giggle moments because although the situation is different, the truth remains the same. The beauty of the Gospel is that just when you think you began to think you understand it, you see it once more through a different lens. 

& I love that. 

I absolutely love how this simple truth can change your outlook on any situation in life, flip your world upside down then right side up with one breath, and remains relevant even after so much time has passed. & in my rediscovering of the Gospel again this season, I feel so alive and I felt that it was worth sharing, so here goes. 

Also as an aside, I started this post a few weeks back when I was actually still sick. Just wanted to say not to fret for all the dearly concerned. Always feeling your love. x, a.

The current predicament: nursing an achey body and a fickle heart.

I am not particularly fond of this combination.

A few weeks ago, I woke up to my screaming alarm and my throat on fire. Dressed quietly and quickly in the dark and stumbled into lab where I spent the next three hours in seemingly subzero temperatures. The sore throat escalated into some ridiculous sinus infection. What was a poor college kid to do with a silly little cold? She picked up a box of decongestant medication in the hopes to put it all behind her.

That was two, almost three weeks ago. Instead of being on the road to recovery, this lingering infection has rendered me useless and I am now six dollars and forty-eight cents less from obtaining a box of Sudafed and currently depleting my cough drop supply. The sinus infection has now turned into a lingering dry cough.

But a cold is easy enough to remedy. Water and meds. A visit to the doctor. It's not unfixable.

Let's talk about the fickle heart.

I'll tell you what a poor college kid can't do with six dollars and forty-eight cents. A poor college kid can't fix a fickle heart with six dollars and forty-eight cents. Not even a visit to a very good doctor could.

My fickle heart has convinced me that Jesus only loves me when I do things right. Somehow I started living my life operating on the lie He only loves me when I do what I’m supposed to be doing. And that whenever I sit down to spend time with Him, He will point an accusatory finger at me and ask why I haven’t been doing said things, why I’m such a terrible steward of the time He’s given me, and how, after all this time, I’m still chasing wind when I should be chasing Him.

Friday evening, I sat down to a long-awaited dinner with my mentor and spilled out the conditions of my unstable and temperamental heart to her. Between bites of Pad Thai and green curry, we went back and forth on how to address said fickleness and approaching the Father boldly despite my feelings of inadequacy. There was still this deep-rooted mentality of having to earn His love, despite having known better.

Afterwards, she paid for the bill and as we got into the car, I was rather adamant and told her I couldn't let anymore people pay for me as had been the case that past week.

"Look", she said, with utmost patience (because we all know I am a diamond in the rough. And by rough, I mean like real rough). "This is grace. It's getting what you don't deserve."

"But I've already had so many individuals show me grace this week!" I exclaimed.

"Well then, look at the signs!" she gushed, "Maybe they're just all pointing to His grace!"

Look at the signs. All pointing to His grace.

I mulled over her words on the car ride back.

Grace. The Father doesn't love me more when I spend time with Him. He doesn't love me less when I don't either. The truth that has been in every church service, every worship song and prayer repeated in the last two decades of my life suddenly comes to life: His love is unchanging. He loves me without conditions. It is a no strings attached kind of love. It is a love that allows grace to step in and within that grace, gives rise to hope in my soul.

Hope? What hope, you ask. Hope that despite the fact, there are still days I'd rather open a textbook than spend time with my Lover or I lash out at loved ones, or cave into temptation, or allow unchecked pride and selfishness to reign, He still loves me. Even though I scarcely can lift my eyes to look into His, or crawl to the throne, He does not turn me away.

"Harshness says, "What is wrong with you?" Grace says, "You are living, and it's going to look different all the time, but you are still no less alive."

So this is where I find myself again. A daily slow dance with the Lover of my soul and learning that He is crazy about me. It is a relearning to fall in love with my Jesus. Again and again. And knowing that whatever mishaps I've committed or will commit, His love for me simply never changes.

He's just too good to me.