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I have been putting off writing this post for awhile now. It depicts a scene of which I am none too proud: I yelled at Jesus. But, as ashamed as I feel, there is a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.
I just posted some information on Lectio Divina, a beautiful way to really "live" the scriptures. You can read about it here. I had my first experience with Lectio Divina at a yoga retreat back in September. The reading was Mark 5:25-34, where the woman who suffered from hemorrhage touched Jesus's cloak and was healed.
As it goes with so many struggles, I have good days and bad days. Well, at the time of this retreat, I was going through several bad days strung together. I was hoping that a session of Lectio would open my heart for healing. When the instructor announced the scripture reading, I was pretty stoked. This passage has been a sort of mantra for me during our journey, to simply believe and go to Jesus as the woman did.
Keleah, the instructor, asked us to close our eyes and listen to the passage once, just to get an idea of scenery.
I imagined Jesus and his disciples as they walked toward the town, crowded by would-be believers who were desperate for healing. I felt the hot afternoon sun beating down, the sand brushing my skin in the breeze, the people pressing in on me. I heard shouts from the crowd, begging for Jesus to perform another miracle for them.
I saw Jesus stop and turn around. He asked who touched him. A woman says that it was she, that she knew that only he could heal her.
I have quite a vivid imagination.
Keleah then read the passage again, this time asking us to notice who we are in the scene and how we feel about it. Are we in the crowd? A disciple? Or are we the woman?
As she read, I recognized that I was in the crowd watching the woman. I also realized that I felt some mixed emotions about what she did. It was pretty courageous, if not brazen, for someone to reach out and touch Christ. But I did admire her faith. I also felt a twinge of jealousy that Jesus immediately focused on her, and healed her suffering. I felt a quick flash of anger. I quickly pushed it aside, shocked at myself.
Keleah finally asked us to imagine that everyone is gone from he scene, save for Jesus and yourself. What do you do? What do you say? Anything?
In my mind, I saw Jesus standing several feet in front of me, looking out over a valley. He had a peaceful expression on His face. I beamed and began to rush toward Him.
Suddenly, the anger I felt returned. Before I could check my emotions, I heard my voice shouting out, "Why her? Why not me?"
Oh, good Lord! I yelled at Jesus! Cool your jets, Amy!
But no, I continued, "I have come to you for healing, too! But I still haven't been healed! I am still in pain, just waiting for parenthood! Why her, Lord?"
It was as if I couldn't stop myself. My heart was broken and I had lost control.
I then saw my Savior turn to face me, tears in His eyes and a soft smile on His lips. He sighed and cocked His head.
And then He spoke to me. He said, "Amy, she was dying. She needed quick help. Have faith; I am healing you! You are fine!"
As the scene faded from my mind, I lay on my yoga mat and sobbed. I sobbed for my suffering, for my insolence, for my Savior's sacrifice.
This experience was incredibly painful, but it taught me an important lesson. I realized that I can't continue to compare my life using another person's measuring tape. When I judge someone based solely on what I see, I minimize their value and give myself a false sense of success. I may think that my worries are worth more than someone else's, but God sees what I cannot.
Boy, am I #grateful for a Lord who knows and understands me?
I just posted some information on Lectio Divina, a beautiful way to really "live" the scriptures. You can read about it here. I had my first experience with Lectio Divina at a yoga retreat back in September. The reading was Mark 5:25-34, where the woman who suffered from hemorrhage touched Jesus's cloak and was healed.
As it goes with so many struggles, I have good days and bad days. Well, at the time of this retreat, I was going through several bad days strung together. I was hoping that a session of Lectio would open my heart for healing. When the instructor announced the scripture reading, I was pretty stoked. This passage has been a sort of mantra for me during our journey, to simply believe and go to Jesus as the woman did.
Keleah, the instructor, asked us to close our eyes and listen to the passage once, just to get an idea of scenery.
I imagined Jesus and his disciples as they walked toward the town, crowded by would-be believers who were desperate for healing. I felt the hot afternoon sun beating down, the sand brushing my skin in the breeze, the people pressing in on me. I heard shouts from the crowd, begging for Jesus to perform another miracle for them.
I saw Jesus stop and turn around. He asked who touched him. A woman says that it was she, that she knew that only he could heal her.
I have quite a vivid imagination.
Keleah then read the passage again, this time asking us to notice who we are in the scene and how we feel about it. Are we in the crowd? A disciple? Or are we the woman?
As she read, I recognized that I was in the crowd watching the woman. I also realized that I felt some mixed emotions about what she did. It was pretty courageous, if not brazen, for someone to reach out and touch Christ. But I did admire her faith. I also felt a twinge of jealousy that Jesus immediately focused on her, and healed her suffering. I felt a quick flash of anger. I quickly pushed it aside, shocked at myself.
Keleah finally asked us to imagine that everyone is gone from he scene, save for Jesus and yourself. What do you do? What do you say? Anything?
In my mind, I saw Jesus standing several feet in front of me, looking out over a valley. He had a peaceful expression on His face. I beamed and began to rush toward Him.
Suddenly, the anger I felt returned. Before I could check my emotions, I heard my voice shouting out, "Why her? Why not me?"
Oh, good Lord! I yelled at Jesus! Cool your jets, Amy!
But no, I continued, "I have come to you for healing, too! But I still haven't been healed! I am still in pain, just waiting for parenthood! Why her, Lord?"
It was as if I couldn't stop myself. My heart was broken and I had lost control.
I then saw my Savior turn to face me, tears in His eyes and a soft smile on His lips. He sighed and cocked His head.
And then He spoke to me. He said, "Amy, she was dying. She needed quick help. Have faith; I am healing you! You are fine!"
As the scene faded from my mind, I lay on my yoga mat and sobbed. I sobbed for my suffering, for my insolence, for my Savior's sacrifice.
This experience was incredibly painful, but it taught me an important lesson. I realized that I can't continue to compare my life using another person's measuring tape. When I judge someone based solely on what I see, I minimize their value and give myself a false sense of success. I may think that my worries are worth more than someone else's, but God sees what I cannot.
Boy, am I #grateful for a Lord who knows and understands me?