Tuesday, April 3, 2012

When the storm weathers you

Ya know that phrase, "the weight of the world"? I've often wondered how much weight that actually is. Certainly too much for any human to bear. Which is why we're not supposed to. Jesus bore that weight on the cross. When He willingly pursued the cross His entire life, he bore the weight of the world. And he did it for the joy set before him. He knew the weight of the world, the weight of our sin...and yet he, with joy, endured the cross. Endured. With joy. I'm not sure I've endured anything with joy. There's nights I endure staring at the ceiling with a splitting migraine headache. I've endured a 9 mile run. A painful knee injury. Kidney stones. None of those things Ive endured joyfully. I barely qualify for enduring. Just making it might be more accurate. Jesus didn't weather our storm either. He endured our storm. He didn't weather death. He defeated it. Well lately, the storm has weathered me. And my family. There are days when I feel like I'm near breaking point. When if I dared to walk another step in the swirling winds and blowing rain, i would crumble. When the debris of life smacks me in the face. And yea, even when the stupid vending machine eats my friggen dollar. On my break, I learned even the vending machine could best me. I only wanted some pretzels. For the dinner I skipped.For all the sleep I've missed. For all the things on my mind. A stupid bag of $.85 pretzels made me cry. On my break. But only a little. Choking back tears is the worst kind of choking. I swallowed hard and buried my face in my hands. The weight of the world forcing my face deeper into my hands. Even when I'm alone, I'm never really alone. But it doesn't mean I don't sometimes feel that way. Sitting in a corner chair by a window. Staring daggers thru that reflective glass vending machine. I spent most of my break in the bathroom. Cuz it's quiet. And no one would bug me. But that vending machine bugged me. I walked out of the bathroom, wiping my eyes and sniffling. I punched the down button on the elevator. And put on my game face. The one that's not real. The one that doesnt have heavy, tired eyes. Flushed cheeks. Tear stains. Weathered. The storm weathers me. But Jesus endured the cross. The ringing of the house phone is enought to pull me into a panic. I hold my breath while it rings. I wait to see if my dad starts walking towards the baseme t steps to tell me bad news. And when he doesnt, I breathe again. Lay my head back down and say to myself, "not today." I won't have to endure that pain today, I think to myself. So my mind wanders and I found myself thinking, silently praying, "Jesus, when the phone does ring and she is gone, please don't let it be when I'm alone. At work. Alone. Please don't let it be on a day when I'm alone." The storm is weathering me. But Jesus endured the cross. And Jesus defeated death. And Jesus lives in me.