Stuck in the Mud

As an undergrad I stood beneath a stream embankment wearing waders up to my bottom and holding a survey rod. I took a couple small sinking steps and realized that I could no longer move. The mud was sticky and deep enough that I couldn't lift my leg high enough to take a step. Even if I tried to take a step, I'd lose balance and fall on my face, with my feet still stuck in the same two muddy holes. I could possibly pull my feet out of the waders, but then I'd be wet and stuck with no shoes on. Anything I could attempt on my own, no matter how brave and noble was destined to end in a total mess. Once we got the elevation shot with the Topcon, my boss came over to the side of the bank and lifted me straight up and out by my hands, boots and all.

I don't enjoy hearing how messed up my heart is apart from Jesus, but have you ever been in that place where you just feel it? No one has to point it out to you. It's like trying to walk through that swampy water. No one needs to tell you that you are standing in a swamp because your feet can't move. Maybe you decide to take on a new ministry opportunity and you get that rush and fuzzy feeling that comes with collaborating with others and improving the lives of other people, but when it's just you and God in that dark quite space before you fall asleep, you realize you're not any closer to him than before you started.

Content. While my natural inclination is to fixate on the appearance and the action, it is the content that matters. Of what, you ask? My heart. Of your heart. I wonder if there has ever been a single thing I've done that hasn't been tainted by the pursuit of self-(anything). Motherhood is the closest thing to unselfish love I've ever come to, but even that is mixed with feelings of duty, fears of failure, and saving face. My time in Romania was overshadowed by the huge amount of pride I got from being there and from doing something "good" for the orphanage.

Let this verse out of Mark 10 rattle around in your heart a bit: "'Why do you call me good?' Jesus answered. "No one is good--except God alone."

What is the content of my heart? What is it I aspire to? Is it to be good? Substituting one word from Jesus's statement above - Is it to be God? Whew, all of the sudden I'm on par with a certain fallen angel. Any aspirations of being something fall short of desiring Christ himself. Desiring goodness, love, patience do not get me Jesus. Having Jesus brings those things, but I don't have Jesus so that I can have those things. Either He is singular and worthy of it all, or I am wasting my time.

This is where my own train continually derails. There is always something in it for me. I always want the affirmation and the praise. I want to look like I have my junk together. I want to sound wise. But rarely do I truly, honestly just want Jesus. Yes, I feel like a terrible jerk for even typing it. I'm in the mud up to my knees and I can't wiggle out. This is where I am. I'm looking up at the bank and done pretending like there's something I can do to make my situation any better.

Here's the appearance of my life: I am thankful. Circumstantially, life is awesome. But here's the content: there is a longing and a need for the personal embrace of Jesus that has been brushed aside so long that the static nature of my heart as deluded me into thinking that status quo is acceptable - that joy over the blessings can be a substitute for the joy of the Blesser, that I can keep being the spiritually train-wrecked friend so long as I am vulnerable and funny about it, that just because no one is calling my bluff that they don't see it.