There are a few blogs that I like to follow and that that I often get encouraged by. A few days ago I was reading a blog by Joanna Reyburn, and what she shared has stuck with me and I keep thinking about it. I wanted to post it here because I know most people have also struggled with different pains and disappointment and I loved what she had to say about Jesus. What do we do with our hearts when they are hurting? I was just having a conversation with a friend the other day and we were sharing about how it's so hard to keep opening your heart to new people and new friendships when you keep getting hurt and disappointed by people time and time again. Our initial response is often to become cynical and distrusting, to build a thick and tall wall around our hearts, inviting no one in again. It is truly interesting to look at Jesus and the way that He lived through betrayal and pain, and still had an open, inviting heart of love. One of my favorite quotes has always been, "The glory of God is man fully alive." I believe it is God's heart for us to be able to learn to walk through life, the good, the bad and the ugly, with an open heart of love and trust. Sure we may grieve and be disappointed from time to time, but we can't build little cages around ourselves thinking that somehow we will be protected from future pain. What would happen if we really tried to love and hope again? What would "man fully alive" look like?
Here's the blog by Joanna:
"Right now, I'm out in California in a dorm room as I'm spending time with some kindred spirits before we begin a rather intense conference in the Pasadena area. For two days, I have been with friends (and moms) tackling the deep things of the human heart in relationships, betrayal, love, marriage, trust, family and future over lunch and pedicures. By now, I am what can best be described as emotionally wasted. And then tonight, my boyfriend calls to break up with me. "Our ministries [sorry, correction, apparently he said "callings." He wanted me to clarify. See disclaimer in comments.] are going in different directions... I think we have different theology... I hope I didn't ruin your weekend." Yep, you did. In the midst of feeling rather, well devastated, I am thinking about all that my friends and I have been talking about this weekend: How to live with an open heart.
In the past few months, you may have noticed that I've taken a few theology classes with Stephen Venable at the IHOPU. In sequential order: Mystical Life of Communion, Christology, Introduction to Biblical Doctrine, and Gospels and the Life of Christ. (I really recommend Stephen's classes, some of which you can watch online from IHOP.) In some ways, I feel like I've been meeting Jesus for the first time all over again.
When one begins to look at Jesus, not Christianity, not eschatology or theology, not the Pauline Epistles or the Torah, but Jesus, the Person, His life, His story, His emotions, His journey, you begin to see the disparity between the the supremacy Jesus, and everything else. I just keep thinking about that passage, "That in all things, He might have the preeminence." What does it mean when Jesus the Person has the first place in EVERYTHING? One of the things I love about this new Jesus I am meeting, (the real one whose acquaintance is based on His terms, not my stereotypes), is how He lived so fully and completely alive.
I've been meditating on Jesus in the midst of overwhelming emotions. I'm trying to learn what it means to give Him that first place; how to walk that out. I'm learning that with Jesus, there were no hindrances to the depth of His emotions, no self-defense walls, or self-preservation tactics. In this Jesus, we see how He takes on our frame, but in a way that we cannot conceive. He lives without all the blockages we associate with the human experience. Jesus radically redefines what being "human" really is.
Jesus, fully God and fully Man. The very image of the invisible God, manifested the Father loving fully and without restraint. He was without a doubt the most approachable Man ever. Learned scribes, pagan centurions, lepers, fisherman, prostitutes, wise men and children came to Him freely, confident they would be received. And when they were sent away by anyone else, this Jesus pursued them.
The pains of rejection cut to His very heart. He was moved - in groaning and longing - with compassion without embarrassment or shame. He openly wept, for Israel, for His disciples, and for His friends experiencing the agony of the death of Lazarus without fear of being "emotional." In righteous indignation He fashioned a whip and purged His Father's house.
He never worried about what people thought. He didn't have to. He didn't protect His reputation, He didn't defend Himself from the local rumor mill about His birth or His eating and drinking. He didn't push away friends He knew would leave Him alone in His final hours, instead He opened His heart fully, inviting them in to the longings of His heart at the last supper, showing immense vulnerability to a man who would deny Him, and agonizing before the Lord in their presence with tears like drops of blood. I could go on and on. Like that song by Jon Thurlow, "There's never been a Man that's so alive." A God-Man that was not afraid to experience the full spectrum of emotions, and by so placing His seal of Divine approval - sanctifying them forever.
And this is the one I have been united to in death, and raised in eternal life - one with this Man. This is what I am being transformed into, from glory to glory. Am I prepared to live so fully alive?
So here I sit, getting ready to go to bed with a bit of heaviness. and I go through a little "Living with an Open Heart" exercise:
1. What am I feeling? "A dull throb in my chest, and a tear slipping down my cheek. Again."
2. What am I smelling? "Nothing, my nose is clogged."
3. What am I tasting? "Salt"
4. What am I hearing? "Jesus, Broken, Poured out for Sinners..."
5. What am I seeing? "The glow of my laptop screen and a day in the distance when I won't feel quite like this."
But I am feeling, and my heart is opening and learning to feel without fear. And I ask that I may see the Jesus who wept when He heard of the death of Lazarus, and knew of the grief of Mary and Martha weeping for me now in my own trivial-it-may-be sorrow. And day by day and choice by choice I am transformed into His likeness. This Man, so alive has ushered in the era of the new humanity in which we are set free to be just like Him."
