I’m sitting here in the dark, eating a Cow Tale, because I can’t think of anything more reasonable to be doing at this time of night. I have to be up at 5:30 in the morning because the world is cruel or else because God is funny and I probably should have been asleep three hours ago.
Also, I’ve just discovered I don’t particularly like Cow Tales.
I’ve been listening to Crowder’s “Come as You Are” for the last hour. A week ago, I didn’t even know who Crowder was, but thanks to my wishy-washy commitment to attending a women’s Bible study on Tuesdays, and the near-cosmic-accident that I was actually wide awake, showered, dressed, and ready to leave my house by 8:30 last Tuesday morning, I was treated to half an hour of that song on repeat while busily coloring a paper Christmas tree bright purple. The other ladies at my table got all the nice green pencils before I could. I should have anticipated this; however, my purple tree was quite as lovely as their forest, jungle, and pine green trees were...which ended up not mattering in the slightest, as our next instructions were to then use black marker to color big splotches over our carefully colored trees.
It’s a metaphor, see?
...no? That’s ok, I didn’t either, until the leader of the study turned off the beautiful song that was distracting me.
The trees- pre-splotchiness- were like our lives; carefully laid out, decorated. The decorations were all the “stuff” we each have in our lives; families, jobs, friends, status, relationships, church. And the black splotches were the burdens. The fear. The worry. The doubt. Sadness. Sickness. Loss. Anger. Guilt. Shame. Over each black splotch we colored, we were asked to write (in black pen so others couldn’t see it) something we’ve been carrying, something that’s been weighing on us.
The song was switched back on at this point, while we all scribbled away, and because it was a room full of women, there was a lot of crying involved in the process.
Or maybe that was just me.
I didn’t want to look at my ugly tree by the time it was finished, marred as it was by my own fear, shame, past, worry, and doubt. But then the group leader prayed, and a beautiful thing happened- I was reminded that God sees past all of our ugliness, that in Christ there is no shame, and that I am forgiven.
And I had once again, in just one short week, forgotten all of that. I got right back to work, hauling all these heavy weights around with me. Hence, the playing of the song over and over tonight. And the tears again, but that’s neither here nor there (ok, it IS here, but not THERE).
I really should have have gone to Bible study this morning to do the second part of all that... huh.