Now to my cull this week. Again I find myself in February of 2005. Again just some random day (a Saturday in this instance). Stick with me for this, it's long and a bit unwieldy. But, because I decided to post it in its entirety, you'll get a pretty strong idea of the flight my brain can take. I open my hands and let it go:
I wonder what it would be like to have the same handwriting all the time...and what analysts would make of the fact that I don't.
Only one of the fifty things buzzing around inside this morning--the Mission trip and all the accompanying organizing; OA (my book); ___ and their marriage break-up, people splitting up in general; and old friend who emailed last night; Dad's death which makes Mom's life so much harder (on me); my flabby stomach and the probability that no matter how much weight I lose it'll still be flabby and the improbability that I'll actually lose that weight anyway; how early Beve got up on a Saturday morning and why on earth he felt the need; whether all my stuff from my old computer was saved from it; if the tea water is hot.
And it's just 7:45 AM.
Actually such thoughts swirl through so quickly it's hard to write them down, and takes longer to read than to think. Everyone has such random brain functions, I suppose. Sometimes mine are more controlled. Sometimes they have more of Christ in them.
And that's what I'm asking for this too early, gray morning--to be controlled today, Lord. To be able to say with all impunity, "The love of Christ [controls] me. This is my desire--to seek You first and thoroughly, to be pervaded by You. To have self corroded, so to speak. Odd word for Holy Spirit work, but perhaps fully appropriate. Hollow out the old, the sin, the flesh in me. Make Carolyn NOTHING but a shell in which You can run, shine and glow through every hole. Yes, corrode me, Holy Spirit. Only fill me up to flow out of me.
Let me use the words of disease and ills of the world to explain His work. Maybe that is the best meaning for the Genesis word of "you meant it for evil, God used it for good." It makes such counter-intuitive sense. Like the gospel so often does. Corrosion, Infection. Even cancer. Turn the cells of me (good in medical parlance--which in this context would be the worldly human cells of self) into cancerous cells (cells controlled by something NOT organic to me but outside of me--YOU!) Yes, be a cancer in my soul, in my spirit. But a cancer to new life.
I know--I KNOW--that many would balk at such language. It rubs wrongly to use such a word, such a thought, to describe HIS holy work. But don't we have to die to self? And perhaps we do well to remember that He does want to invade us, because we are desperately in need of that invading. Secondly, words are morally neutral. Of course. We imbue them with meaning. Cancer only has the power to hurt--as a word--because we chose it to describe a disease. The process can be (positively--in every sense) useful as a description of many kinds of work.
My point, of course, is that I need Him to invade ME. This morning. This moment. Every which way He can.