I don't know who will ultimately read this. If you're one of the few who is, I am sorry. I just need to get it out. I am drowning right now. Sinking fast.
A couple summers ago, an event happened in my life that...well...changed it forever. I was working at Camp Geneva in Holland, MI, that summer -- summer of 06. I was a Shores Counselor, meaning I worked with elementary-aged kids. During a mid-summer staff retreat (which ended up just meaning we hung around the camp for a weekend of fellowship and games and good food) a bunch of the staff headed down to the beach for a day of sun and sand and swimming. We worked on our tans, read books, and just enjoyed each others company (without any kids around). Around the middle of the day, I and two other staff members decided we wanted to have a go at the third sandbar from the shore of Lake Michigan. Camp Geneva owns roughly 300 feet of Lake Michigan property and so we had the beach to ourselves. The three of us headed out, determined to make it to the prized third sandbar. The first came easy. The second, more difficult, but we managed. I remember noticing how deep the second sandbar was -- barely shallow enough for any of us to reach and take a breather. We press on. Quarter-way to the third sandbar, I don't know if it was fatigue or a mild rip currant, but something started to not seem right. I kept swimming. Halfway out, I could feel it getting harder and harder to keep my head above the water. I felt unable to keep my limbs moving. I felt like I was being pulled under. WOW...this is hard even just typing it. A fear came over my entire being. Panic set in. The worst thoughts any person could possibly think began thumping around in my head. It seemed as though my brain was able to have multiple thoughts all at once (which is amazing for a guy!). I remember one thought very vividly: A front page article in the Holland Sentinel (our local newspaper) with the title "Camp Counselor Goes For A Swim And Never Returns" became imprinted in my brain (I could see everything clearly on the page). Now when I hear people talk about their life flashing before their eyes, I actually believe them. I can't explain it, but I felt as though I could see everything that ever happened to me in the rush of a few seconds and I could actually focus long enough on certain images as to know what it was and remember it happening. I was drowning. I was going to die. I knew it was a matter of time -- whatever time it took for water to fill my lungs, oxygen to stop being mixed into my bloodstream, and ultimately my heart to stop beating.
Obviously, I am still here. One of the people with me, Kelli, managed, despite her own struggles with exhaustion, to make it over to where I had stopped and kept my head above water. A couple times I would slip into the water and she'd fight to bring me up again. She kept me up long enough for people on shore to hear the cries for help from Kelli and the other person and to send out a wind-surfing board to lay my body on. They made it just in time. They told me afterward that my eyes were literally ready to jump out of my head and my skin had turned a pasty white. I don't remember much of the ride back to shore. I just remember making it back to the sand and laying there, on the solid ground, for at least an hour while my head stopped spinning and my heart slowed down. I had never before appreciated solid ground as much as I did that day, that moment.
The entire thing was almost surreal. It has come to represent many things in my life since that day. I understand what it means to be drowning and helpless -- to be overwhelmed with something. I understand what it means to literally have someone save you. And I understand a little better the idea of God as the solid ground. Hmmmm...
Again, I am drowning. This time, it is not in Lake Michigan and I am not attempting to swim to the third sandbar. My soul is drowning. My soul is sinking into a disconnectedness with the very source of its existence. It is starving. Starved from its only true source of food.
My passions and joy have been snuffed out, as a candle is snuffed out. The institution that I "work for" is in grave need of repair. It greatly needs an oil change. I feel like a marionette in a puppet show. I can relate with Pinocchio -- poor kid just wanted something real in his life.
God called the church his Bride. What a beautiful image. God and his Bride, standing at the alter, having just made lasting vows to each other and sharing their first kiss. They turn toward the Heavenly beings, who were more than excited to be there on this "big day," and the two walk briskly hand-in-hand down the aisle.
This is how it was supposed to be. But something happened after the honeymoon ended. In fact, I don't know if they even made it back from that before the Bride begins a "wandering eye." She is so enthralled with love, that now she just has to "try" other lovers. She gives herself away over and over and over to these other lovers. All awhile God, the mighty groom who had promised to always love and protect the Bride, is devastated and heartbroken. He feels. He hurts. And this hurts. His Bride has effectively walked away from the commitment.
We are this Bride (and yes, this includes the dudes too). We have turned our back on the ultimate lover...for multiple lovers. We have hidden that wedding ring again and again to lure our many lovers, only to display it again when we feel we need Him back. This is what the church has done and is doing. This is what we have created. We have an over-sexed church. And to make matters all the worse, we have the audacity to cry out God's name, even while with another lover.
We have turned the church into so many things that it just should not be. It looks and feels and runs more like a business. More conversations are focused on budget issues than God's realness in our lives and our acknowledgment of Him. We hear about Him for 30 minutes (45 minutes if the preacher is really daring) once a week and call it good. Now back to life. Back to the daily grind. Back to the things that really matter. Right? Is this not what we do?
I could go on for hours about the church and how I do not believe that this is really what God intends for His Bride. A change does need to happen. A restoration. A restoration of God and His Bride. I can sense it in every ounce of my being. I can feel God saying to His Bride, "Oh my dearly loved one, how I have fought for you in times past. How I showed you that I was willing to die for you! I just want to be with you. I just want you. And I want you to realize just how much you need me. How much I really offer you. But you don't seem to want it. I wish you would. You experience so much pain apart from me. You have created many words to try to express the depths of your longing for something more: lost, confused, broken, empty, dirty, and trapped. Oh, how you've mistaken your other lovers for me. Come back simply to me. Just come back."
But we want to focus on other things. Things we can see, feel, and control. We love our structures. We love our planning. We love our "order of worship." We seem to love everything else, but you! And you're the reason we "go" to church.
This is why I'm drowning. Because of these many thoughts and others like them. I work for this "Bride." I have my nameplate on the tag of her dress.
God, please restore your Bride back to her place beside you. Everything is from you. God, I submit this to you. Take it and use it for your glory, how ever you see fit.
Love,
Nat
A couple summers ago, an event happened in my life that...well...changed it forever. I was working at Camp Geneva in Holland, MI, that summer -- summer of 06. I was a Shores Counselor, meaning I worked with elementary-aged kids. During a mid-summer staff retreat (which ended up just meaning we hung around the camp for a weekend of fellowship and games and good food) a bunch of the staff headed down to the beach for a day of sun and sand and swimming. We worked on our tans, read books, and just enjoyed each others company (without any kids around). Around the middle of the day, I and two other staff members decided we wanted to have a go at the third sandbar from the shore of Lake Michigan. Camp Geneva owns roughly 300 feet of Lake Michigan property and so we had the beach to ourselves. The three of us headed out, determined to make it to the prized third sandbar. The first came easy. The second, more difficult, but we managed. I remember noticing how deep the second sandbar was -- barely shallow enough for any of us to reach and take a breather. We press on. Quarter-way to the third sandbar, I don't know if it was fatigue or a mild rip currant, but something started to not seem right. I kept swimming. Halfway out, I could feel it getting harder and harder to keep my head above the water. I felt unable to keep my limbs moving. I felt like I was being pulled under. WOW...this is hard even just typing it. A fear came over my entire being. Panic set in. The worst thoughts any person could possibly think began thumping around in my head. It seemed as though my brain was able to have multiple thoughts all at once (which is amazing for a guy!). I remember one thought very vividly: A front page article in the Holland Sentinel (our local newspaper) with the title "Camp Counselor Goes For A Swim And Never Returns" became imprinted in my brain (I could see everything clearly on the page). Now when I hear people talk about their life flashing before their eyes, I actually believe them. I can't explain it, but I felt as though I could see everything that ever happened to me in the rush of a few seconds and I could actually focus long enough on certain images as to know what it was and remember it happening. I was drowning. I was going to die. I knew it was a matter of time -- whatever time it took for water to fill my lungs, oxygen to stop being mixed into my bloodstream, and ultimately my heart to stop beating.
Obviously, I am still here. One of the people with me, Kelli, managed, despite her own struggles with exhaustion, to make it over to where I had stopped and kept my head above water. A couple times I would slip into the water and she'd fight to bring me up again. She kept me up long enough for people on shore to hear the cries for help from Kelli and the other person and to send out a wind-surfing board to lay my body on. They made it just in time. They told me afterward that my eyes were literally ready to jump out of my head and my skin had turned a pasty white. I don't remember much of the ride back to shore. I just remember making it back to the sand and laying there, on the solid ground, for at least an hour while my head stopped spinning and my heart slowed down. I had never before appreciated solid ground as much as I did that day, that moment.
The entire thing was almost surreal. It has come to represent many things in my life since that day. I understand what it means to be drowning and helpless -- to be overwhelmed with something. I understand what it means to literally have someone save you. And I understand a little better the idea of God as the solid ground. Hmmmm...
Again, I am drowning. This time, it is not in Lake Michigan and I am not attempting to swim to the third sandbar. My soul is drowning. My soul is sinking into a disconnectedness with the very source of its existence. It is starving. Starved from its only true source of food.
My passions and joy have been snuffed out, as a candle is snuffed out. The institution that I "work for" is in grave need of repair. It greatly needs an oil change. I feel like a marionette in a puppet show. I can relate with Pinocchio -- poor kid just wanted something real in his life.
God called the church his Bride. What a beautiful image. God and his Bride, standing at the alter, having just made lasting vows to each other and sharing their first kiss. They turn toward the Heavenly beings, who were more than excited to be there on this "big day," and the two walk briskly hand-in-hand down the aisle.
This is how it was supposed to be. But something happened after the honeymoon ended. In fact, I don't know if they even made it back from that before the Bride begins a "wandering eye." She is so enthralled with love, that now she just has to "try" other lovers. She gives herself away over and over and over to these other lovers. All awhile God, the mighty groom who had promised to always love and protect the Bride, is devastated and heartbroken. He feels. He hurts. And this hurts. His Bride has effectively walked away from the commitment.
We are this Bride (and yes, this includes the dudes too). We have turned our back on the ultimate lover...for multiple lovers. We have hidden that wedding ring again and again to lure our many lovers, only to display it again when we feel we need Him back. This is what the church has done and is doing. This is what we have created. We have an over-sexed church. And to make matters all the worse, we have the audacity to cry out God's name, even while with another lover.
We have turned the church into so many things that it just should not be. It looks and feels and runs more like a business. More conversations are focused on budget issues than God's realness in our lives and our acknowledgment of Him. We hear about Him for 30 minutes (45 minutes if the preacher is really daring) once a week and call it good. Now back to life. Back to the daily grind. Back to the things that really matter. Right? Is this not what we do?
I could go on for hours about the church and how I do not believe that this is really what God intends for His Bride. A change does need to happen. A restoration. A restoration of God and His Bride. I can sense it in every ounce of my being. I can feel God saying to His Bride, "Oh my dearly loved one, how I have fought for you in times past. How I showed you that I was willing to die for you! I just want to be with you. I just want you. And I want you to realize just how much you need me. How much I really offer you. But you don't seem to want it. I wish you would. You experience so much pain apart from me. You have created many words to try to express the depths of your longing for something more: lost, confused, broken, empty, dirty, and trapped. Oh, how you've mistaken your other lovers for me. Come back simply to me. Just come back."
But we want to focus on other things. Things we can see, feel, and control. We love our structures. We love our planning. We love our "order of worship." We seem to love everything else, but you! And you're the reason we "go" to church.
This is why I'm drowning. Because of these many thoughts and others like them. I work for this "Bride." I have my nameplate on the tag of her dress.
God, please restore your Bride back to her place beside you. Everything is from you. God, I submit this to you. Take it and use it for your glory, how ever you see fit.
Love,
Nat
1 comment:
WOW! Your post had me on the brink of tears. Everything you said was true so true. How quickly we forget God's love and toss it aside for meaningless things that at the time seem priceless. I look forward to reading more of your posts.
Colette
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