The other day one of my friends I haven’t seen in a while asked how I was. I’m good, I told him (…true story.) He persisted, “but what about…you know, the tension.”
I had completely forgotten about my previous blog post, about my previous tension with God. Somewhere along the way those feelings faded and I forgot things were ever strained between us.
We went to Nicaragua together, came back and packed up my apartment, went to Cambodia, came back and moved into a house.
Tonight is my first night in my new room.
Most of my stuff is still in boxes or stuffed aimlessly in the closet. But my bed is finally set up – new sheets and all. I also have new candle on my nightstand. Paris Amour, it’s called.
Tonight I lit my candle, climbed into my sheets and bumped into God.
This house is a new season. That old apartment could no longer contain you or what you wanted to give me. It was too small. My first night in this room is filled with snot and tears and your presence. A candle that’s never been burned, a song that’s never been heard. Sheets that have never been used. New. Better than before (not that there was ever anything even wrong with before.) That old, orange, fall candle burned its last flame – no longer to fill my room with pumpkin scent again. A new scent is being introduced tonight – Paris Amour. Love.
When I was in Cambodia I saw World Racers so broken it stunned me. They were broken in a beautiful way, a way that allowed room for God to ooze through their cracks. I was jealous, I wanted that. And so I prayed for it.
This morning God told me that if I wanted to be broken, I didn’t have to wait for him to break me. I could create my own cracks and welcome in weakness at any time. And so I did.
Hence the snot and tears tonight. But they were the good kind – pain mixed with hope, confusion mixed with gratitude. It was one of those sacred, desperate moments where all I wanted was him, nothing else.
We can have as much of God as we want, I keep learning. Sometimes we just need to make a little room, light a candle and welcome God into the cracks…
I don’t need to go to Paris to experience his love. He shines bright as the Eiffel tower right here on my nightstand.