About 70 Days, 70 Weeks of Prayer

Inspired by a friend's interpretation of the above passage in the book of Daniel, I began an exercise in praying for 70 days about loving God properly which developed into a week by week blog of my journey in 70 weeks of prayer to determine what my next phase in life should be: Where I should go, what I should do, who I should be...

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Week 30: The good news: "Everything you love will be taken away"

If you haven't heard the "Good News" it's that God loves you so much that he sent his only son Jesus to be your savior, to die for your sins and if you believe in him, they are washed away. But if you have heard THE "Good News" I wonder what you think good news is.
Well, Slaid Cleaves, a kind of grifter folk singer has some good news for you. He doesn't realize it's good, but that's because I don't think he truly knows about THE "Good News." The good news Slaid proclaims is that "everything you love will be taken away."
I heard that song performed at open mic a few months ago and today, while driving, singing along to Sugarland as a form of praise music (because Jesus and I are "stuck like glue"), I switched over to my favorite obscure local Boston folk radio station and Slaid's song, "Cry" came on. It was completing fitting with something I'd read this morning by C.S. Lewis and as much as this song is of a very hopeless and depressing nature, I found it incredibly uplifting.

The song discusses a few different relationships, how they will fade- it talks of worldly things that will die- "even blue skies fade to grey, everything you love will be taken away." It conveys the idea that as much as you want to hold onto worldly things that will make you happy- they will soon be gone. Although, it does not provide an alternative happiness explicitly. I think the intention was to assume defeat, that nothing good is redeemed when "everything you love will be taken away."

Now Clive Staples is a little more optimistic than Slaid Cleaves. In "A slip of the tongue" he speaks of how we attempt to keep some part of our lives for ourselves. In my case, that had been my personal relationships- thinking that was something for me, not for God to take control of. Although, as you may have read in some of my posts in the past couple of months, I'm in a better place now- I've had a few major revelations. But, while God will forgive us for our many mistakes, he does not tolerate our intentional and constant refusal to give a part of our sinful selves in to His will.
But giving ALL of yourself to God is easier said than done. It's a frightening thing- it means giving everything you love (except for God) away. Thus, you have to give up all of your worldly loves- even your family, relationships, friends. This doesn't mean stop loving them, you just release your will in controlling, choosing, and influencing them to God. You must be in a place where you would give everything you love away to He whom you (should) love most. You must be in a place where you are honestly willing to do this- and I've found myself called to cash in that idea where I have been told by God I really did have to give up something I loved.
Fortunately, because we have a loving God, He will, as long as it is within His will (and thus likely in our best interest), frequently give us back all that we surrender to Him.

So, giving away all you love is different than it being taken. But at some point, even if you're given back what you surrendered, at some point, it will have to go, and will be gone. Maybe not forever, but you won't see it again this side of eternity and when you see it again, it won't be the same- it will mean something else, it will likely have become part of something different and greater.

There was a point years ago when I came to a personally startling realization: that in the end, I would be alone. We surround ourselves with people: friends, family- hoping we will not be alone, that people will know who we are. But in the end, who really knows who you truly are and who you've been? Your parents know you better than you know yourself sometimes- they knew you since you were born. But they may only know you half your life. They won't see you in your later years. Your spouse probably didn't see your youthful, growing years and they may not even see your last few years. Your friends, they may know you longest, but they'll likely not know you your entire life long. The only one that knows all of you is God. And in the end, no matter how many people surround you when you die, they're not with you when you move into eternity. At least not at first, I don't think, if at all. In the end it's just you, yourself and God. And I find that comforting.

I often think the world gets in the way of my relationship with God- I love so much, but I don't love purely and I don't always love what counts. And even if I do love what counts, sometimes it takes away from my pure focus on God. And so, it sounds comforting that in the end, all the things I loved will be stripped away leaving me to the purest, cleanest, simplest relationship with my God. He and I are all that remain. The good news is, that everything you love will be taken away- except God, He'll stay- and you'll understand that everything you ever really loved was always only Him in the first place.

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