For Christ to truly reign within you everything must be submitted to Him without reservation.
JEANNE GUYON
I OPEN MY e-mail and see, finally, a response from Andee. Has she decided to trust Lightseeker?
Lightseeker,
Okay, you win. But sell me out, and I'll make your life miserable. Not a threat, just a warning. You say you need to protect your identity in order to protect yourself. I know a little something about self-protection: It doesn't work. I've spent my life trying to protect myself and now, I face exactly what I've attempted to avoid. Ironic.
In your last post, you wrote about loneliness and having known perfect love. What's the deal with the perfect love? I know God is equated with love, and assume that's who you refer to, but how does one go about participating in a relationship with God?
And why would God want a love relationship with me? Believe me, I've done nothing to deserve anyone's love lately. In fact, I've driven everyone away and have betrayed those who cared at all.
So, Lightseeker, enlighten me . . .
A. Bell
I lean back in my desk chair and think of Andee. Not the Andee I've met, the Andee that dated Jason. But Andee Bell, financial advisor, author, radio personality. How much courage did it take for that Andee to expose herself to a complete stranger? To risk, as she wrote, being sold out?
How much is she hurting that she'd take such a risk?
Is the betrayal she mentions a reference to Jason? I hurt for him because I know he cared about Andee, but I don't resent her. It seemed evident that she gave what she could to Jason. She'd built a fortress around herself—anyone could see that. She was covering deep wounds—making sure nothing, or no one, wounded her again. At least, that was my sense after spending the weekend with her and Jason at the chateau.
I consider her warning—not about making my life miserable. I smile. That's just Andee. I know I won't betray her confidence. No, I wonder about her warning about self-protection not working. I think again of Brigitte and the blog . . . and another wave of nausea rolls over me.
I reach for the steaming cup of peppermint herbal tea on my desk and take a small sip. After feeling so sick earlier in the week, I asked Hannah to replace my morning coffee with the tea, as it seemed to help the nausea.
Just the thought of Brigitte discovering my blog makes me sick to my stomach—and the tea does nothing to relieve that.
What have I gotten myself into?
And yet . . .
I look back at Andee's e-mail and my passion stirs. Would I forgo the opportunity to respond to Andee's question, to share the love and grace of Jesus with her, simply to protect myself from Brigitte?
I twist the band on my left ring finger and recall the vow I made: I will have no other god before you.
No, I will continue with the blog. I am honored, awed even, for the opportunity to share with Andee and others like her. I won't reveal my identity. And maybe my protection will fail, as Andee suggested, but if so, I'll trust God with the outcome.
I take another sip of tea and then begin my response to Andee.
Dear Andee,
I assure you, God wants a relationship with you. A deep, abiding, love relationship. He adores you. So much so that He gave up His only Son as payment for your sin—my sin. There is nothing you can do to separate yourself from His love. Nothing.
If you believe Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and is God Himself as part of the trinity, Father, Son, and Spirit, then you've already begun a relationship.
Like any other relationship, it is built by getting to know one another. But in this relationship, you are already fully known, fully loved, and fully accepted. Now it's your turn to get to know God—the lover of your soul. Spend time with Him. Read His Word—His love letter to you. Do you have a Bible? If so, begin in the New Testament, maybe with the book of John, and get to know Jesus . . .
I stop. Will Andee believe? Or will she doubt the truth of God's Word? Oh Lord, open her eyes to Your truth, let her sense Your love for her, give her a picture of Your grace. Heal her wounds. I feel my eyes well with tears. Lord, let her fall so deeply in love with You that nothing else in her life matters . . .
I think again of Brigitte. And Lord, let me love You in that same way. Let nothing else, no one else, stand in the way of my relationship with You. A ripple of fear threatens to unnerve me. But I take a deep breath and continue. Lord, strengthen me to pick up my cross and follow You. I'm ready . . .
Peace threads itself through my soul, stitching my fraying courage.
Don't look ahead. Stay here, in the present moment. God is here.
I return to my e-mail:
Andee, thank you for choosing to trust me. I will honor your trust. Thank you, too, for your words about self-protection—I will ponder your advice.
Blessings to you . . .
I sign off, close the laptop, and reach for my Bible. I turn to the passage in the Gospels that Matthew read to me a couple of weeks ago and read:
"I have come to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law—"
I skip down the page . . .
"Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it."
I smile. I'm great at losing things, so losing my life shouldn't be an issue. Although, I know I'm not clear on Jesus' meaning. So I look at the verses listed in the margin that reference other passages with a similar theme and see Luke 14 listed. I turn there and read Jesus words:
"If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple."
Clarity comes. . . . Picking up my cross—carrying my cross—means I'm willing to walk away from anyone, even loved ones, who stand between me and Jesus.
A scene from the Bible comes to mind—a conversation between Peter and Jesus. Does it apply?
I stand up and take my Bible to the sofa, sit, and then flip to the back of my Bible and search for that passage in the concordance. I find the verse in the concordance and turn to the referenced verses. I read Jesus' prediction of His death and then pick up His conversation with well-intentioned Peter in Matthew 16:22:
Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. "Never, Lord!" he said. "This shall never happen to you!" Jesus turned and said to Peter, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns."
That's it! Fascinated, I keep reading. And with the next verse, my heart skips a beat . . .
Then Jesus said to his disciples, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it."
The verses echo Jesus' words from the earlier chapter in Matthew—the wording is almost exact. One verse talks about seeking our lives, the other talks about saving our lives.
Andee's warning about self-protection comes to mind again. Is protecting myself the same as trying to save my life? I feel the fog of confusion roll in. . . . But wouldn't walking away from Brigitte be a self-protective act? Isn't that saving myself?
I pose my questions to God, but the light of clarity dims, and soon I'm wandering, lost, in a dense fog.
I get up from the sofa, go to the desk, and make a note to talk this through with Matthew.
I sigh.
Why does it have to be so complicated?