There is a wildness and recklessness to God’s mercy and grace. Those who give into it are crazily changed by it. Life as normal ceases to be normal and takes on all the adventures of a roller coaster, without the terror, just the wide open smiles and laughter of drowning in His grace.
If someone had told me three years ago of this overwhelming sense of peace and joy, even in the midst of deep pain and hard, hard things, I would have laughed. If they had said the only way to get this was to give into the pain, surrender to it and the One who knows intimately the pain of suffering and loss, I would have thought them a stupid idiot.
So here I am. I am that person. I am telling you, in your place of pain, in your place of hard; there is joy, there is peace to be had in abundance as you surrender fully to the God who knows.
Then you will have to buckle your seat-belt because it will be a bumpy ride of grace and life and joy and peace and pain and hard and Jesus. He is in it all. You will find yourself months and years later, sitting outside on a frosty winter morning, tears running rivers down your cheeks as you reflect on His life in you, you’ll weep when you hear His voice again, you’ll feel the sting of tears in your eyes and nose as you contemplate how free life is, how He is doing things in and through you that boggle your mind. And then you’ll laugh with joy because you will know in the marrow of your soul that it is all Him, that truly without Him you would be so lost, so pain-filled. You would be defined by what you did, what was done to you, by anger, and bitterness.
Please know, dear soul, I do know pain. I know deep, heart-rending pain, pain so sharp you think you will die, and then you wish you would, or could. But you find, if you surrender in it and to it, there is a peace, a joy that comes with the pain.
It isn’t that I haven’t known despair or grief. It isn’t that my life has been miraculously made incredibly easy, it hasn’t been. There are still things that wound my heart and in my human-flesh-ness, makes me want to run so far, so fast in ten years time I’d still be running from all things painful.
But I’ve learned over the past months, that I’d be running from the very grace, the very peace and joy, the exact love I’m so desperate for. The road with Jesus might be bumpy, but it’s hell on wheels without Him.
Yes, the ride is bumpy, but it’s an exciting bumpy. It’s a life on the back of a Harley, wind whipping through your hair, eyes twinkling, mouth open in joyous laughter, arms straight up in gleeful celebration of all He is, all He has done.