[You are the] Best I Ever Had & The Only Exception [to my Love]

I’m getting better at this blog thing. Or perhaps I merely have more time for it.
Anyway, I’ve kinda started to learn something:

It doesn’t matter.

Really. It doesn’t. You ask what doesn’t matter? I answer you this:

Anything.

Okay, some things matter. But mistakes don’t. Note I say mistakes. Mistakes are things accidently done, but attempted to be put right. Or made the best of. Repeated mistakes? No, those aren’t mistakes. Those are intentional. Those don’t count. But real mistakes? Yeah, those don’t matter.

I’ve learned that if I do something wrong (by mistake), it’s okay. Of course it’s not the best. It’s not going to receive the same outcome as I –or God- wants. But it’s okay.

“You make all things work together for my good.”

Even if I am making a completely wrong decision in transferring.

“You make all things work together for my good.”

Even if I am wrong in retaking a couple classes.

“You make all things work together for my good.”

Even if I am wrong in working through summer to get me money to take these classes.

“You make all things work together for my good.”

Even if I accept this major, this challenge, this difficulty.

“You make all things work together for my good.”

Is it all necessarily part of His plan? Possibly not. But will it work out for both His and my benefit? Yes, always.

Now please don’t misunderstand. I am not saying it is okay to intentionally do something against God. I am just saying that you can have peace when making a difficult decision. He will take care of you and bring you out better because of it. He’s the Master of the world. He’s the Sign of direction. He’s the Seed of growth. He’s the Creator of Good. He is God.

You know, the other day I was in an alternate chapel. It was an all-worship chapel. Let me tell you, if you ever need a refreshing clearing of the mind, that's the way to do it. It was lovely. But at one point, Pastor John Plake went to the stage. He asked a simple question. 

"Do you think God is proud of you?"

My first thought? My answer to this terrifying question? My tearful reply?

"No, He can't be."

He can't be. Look at all these people on the world that do something for Him. Look at these people who are great Bible-quoting, Jesus-loving, calm, cool, and collected people. Flashback to me. Little Kristin. Who can quote maybe ten verses. Who does love Jesus, but has a hard time showing it. Who is rarely calm. Kristin that has never nor will ever be "cool." And collected? Don't ever use that word in the same sentence as she... unless the words "absolutely" and "not" are included. But as I was thinking of all this, Plake spoke. 

"Odds are, you all are thinking something along the lines of 'probably not.''

Almost imperceptible to anyone who happened to be watching, I felt my head nod in solemn agreement. 

"Well you are wrong."

Again I slightly nod my head... then whip it up so fast to face him that I may have gotten whiplash. "Wrong? Pastor Plake, have I deceived even you? I know I have many people around me." I mean, I am an actress. Not on a stage, but on the ground. On the sidewalk, on the tiled floor of the inside world. In everyday life, I am an actress. I pray everyday no one will find me out. No one will call me out as a phony.... but then again...

I do. 

I want someone to see that I am a pretender. That I am fake. I am not perfect. I struggle. I don't like everyone like I pretend to. I don't smile twenty-four seven. When I smile on the outside, I am shuddering, praying this person leaves me alone on the inside. I am not nice. My head is filled with insults and judgments. I want someone to see the inside of me. I want them to call me out. I feel too safe here. It's like when you play Hide-and-go-seek. You hide, all the while praying no one finds you, lest you be labeled "it." Yet as you sit crouched in the corner of a small hidden closet, you wish you picked a place a little easier. You fear you never will be found. You fear you will be stuck here and no one will find you and, eventually, they will cease to search. So you make a little noise. You scuff your foot. You cough. You twitch around. And, finally, you get found. And a sigh of relief escapes you as you superficially complain about being caught. In reality, you are relieved. That's how I feel. But even Pastor Plake has missed all that? And he continues, 

"He is proud of you"

There's no way I could have misunderstood that a second time. But I beg him to continue. I beg him to explain the mysteries that are God. Why is God proud of me? How does God even have the capacity to care for me? I don't even have the capacity to care about me. But he does. 

You see, it's kind of a funny thing. We can't disappoint God, because He was never expecting anything out of us in the first place. He knows we are not perfect. He know we make mistakes. He even knows that we blaspheme His name. He knows we will repeatedly make mistakes. He knows us. He knows me. I know I can never let God down... I was never holding him up in the first place. 

It's okay. I can make a mistake. I can make a million. But God will still love me. He is still proud of me. He still loves me. He always will. All He wants is a relationship with me. It's not like I can ever give Him anything of substances... except all of me. It's funny that the only thing that God ever wants from me is the hardest thing  to give up. 

Do you know that when we become a "Christian" (not really Christian in the sense of the word... I mean, when we begin our relationship with God, ) we are a completely new person. Did you know that? Yes, of course you did. But understand this. We are a completely new person. He doesn't take who we are and change a few things to make us "holy." He completely erases who and what we used to be. He gives us a brand new identity. We have the chance to completely restore ourselves to God's companion. We are saints from that moment on. We are perfection. Our new identity does not know the things of the past. It does not know it enjoyed drugs, alcohol... or even lies, lust, hatred. It knows nothing of the sort. It only knows love, happiness, rest, peace, wonder. It's like a baby. It's scared, so it may cry, but it has nothing to be fearful of, except newness. A body might turn to what outsiders are pushing toward it. It looks comfortable. So it goes to it. Only to find it as a trap from the enemy. But God knows you don't really want it. So He helps you. He turns you away from it. Until you find somewhere else to turn to. Which is when He helps you again. He knows that all you really want it Him. And He will gladly help you every step of the way to find it. 

God knows exactly what you are going to go through before you finally turn to Him. To Him, it's not:

"Well here she goes again, making a mess. I guess I'll go help her.... again."

To Him, it's more like this:

"Only twenty-four more alleys she will explore until she finally finds me!" 

"I can't wait until she gives me the green-light to help her"

"I am in agony watching her struggle through this all alone."

"I wish dearly she would let me help her."

"I think I am going to give her a little nudge, a small sign to point her in my direction... I can't help it. I am too excited to meet her!"

God cares. Even before we turned. But now that we have, He wants to help us. We gave Him an open invitation. No matter what mistakes I make, He's there. 

"And it may take some time to
Patch me up inside,
But I can't take it so I
Run away and hide.

And I may find in time that
You were always right...
You're always right."

I thought another was pretty applicable here too:

"I've always lived like this, 
Keeping a comfortable distance,
And up until now I had sworn to myself 
That I'm content with loneliness-
Because none of it was ever worth the risk.

Well you are the only exception...


Ive got a tight grip on reality,
But I can't let go of what's in front of me.


You are the only exception...


And I'm on my way to believing.
Oh and I'm on my way to believing"