"I believe while I tremble; I trust while I weep."--Charlotte Bronte

You know That Person who always has drama going in her life, who always has a set of stories that are irritating because they make you feel like she doesn't care about whatever you want to complain about, or because it seems like she's just trying to pull sympathy out of everybody around her? I'm kind of afraid I'm in danger of turning into That Person.

My dad died a little over 11 months ago, and although nobody's told me that I should be over it by now, I feel like there must be something a little boring about somebody whose honest answer to "How are you" hasn't been "everything is going great" for a while. Maybe there isn't. Maybe I just miss being able to say it.

I don't know if I haven't read enough grief books to come across this, or if this is actually a weird thing, but I'm tired of it. Grieving. Let's be done. I feel like the way it should work is that on the anniversary of my dad going into the hospital and our lives changing forever...he comes back. That's how it should work. Way to stick it out for a year, everybody! Back to normal!

Or if that doesn't work, at least grieving should be uncomplicated. One thing at a time. No dragging up memories of past losses. No adding losses or adding complications. I wanted a year off from everything, and what I got was a year of "Suzanne, you are not in control." Of anything, on the most basic level, and especially not of hearts.

I couldn't keep my dad's heart beating.

I couldn't change the hearts of the young kids in my school.

I couldn't keep my own heart on track.

In fact, right about now my heart feels like it's been turned upside down and shaken for a year. I feel empty. I have nothing to give anybody.

And I know that if I'm empty it is a great opportunity to be filled with the fullness of God. I know it will be good. I am not excited about it now, but I know it will be exciting and beautiful, and I strain against my present feelings into the overarching reality of that knowing. (Hope is a thing with battle scars.)

I don't believe in Christ because He makes my life fluffy and simple. "How hard could it be?" Pastor Dale asked of following Christ, and answered his own question: "It's as hard as dying--and if you think that can't be true, you haven't tried it."

I believe that His dying, and this dying of ours that follows, is the only way to what it really means to live. (I want to be that Person.)

Sobering Reminders and Thrilling Promises

I was thinking about Ezekiel 33:11 today, after I read of so many people excited about the death of Osama Bin Laden. (This is not really going to be a post about the pros and cons of a standing army, or the war on terror, or whether or not it is ever okay to be glad about a military victory. This is a post inspired by the verse that popped into my head after reading the news.) Since I didn't know it was Ezekiel 33:11, and just remembered part of it, I looked up the passage this evening.

I saw that it contained more than a statement of truth about the heart of God--there are some sobering reminders to people who claim to follow Him, and some thrilling promises to those who turn to Him, no matter what they've done.

I was going to post the verse, but found I couldn't post anything less than Ezekiel 33:10-20. (I've bolded some of my favorite bits, but I love it all.) The speaker in this passage is God, addressing the prophet for whom the book is named.

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Now as for you, son of man, say to the house of Israel, 'Thus you have spoken, saying, "Surely our transgressions and our sins are upon us, and we are rotting away in them; how then can we survive?"

Say to them, 'As I live!' declares the Lord GOD, 'I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that the wicked turn from his way and live. Turn back, turn back from your evil ways! Why then will you die, O house of Israel?'

And you, son of man, say to your fellow citizens, 'The righteousness of a righteous man will not deliver him in the day of his transgression, and as for the wickedness of the wicked, he will not stumble because of it in the day when he turns from his wickedness; whereas a righteous man will not be able to live by his righteousness on the day when he commits sin.'

When I say to the righteous he will surely live, and he so trusts in his righteousness that he commits iniquity, none of his righteous deeds will be remembered; but in that same iniquity of his which he has committed he will die. But when I say to the wicked, 'You will surely die,' and he turns from his sin and practices justice and righteousness, if a wicked man restores a pledge, pays back what he has taken by robbery, walks by the statutes which ensure life without committing iniquity, he shall surely live; he shall not die. None of his sins that he has committed will be remembered against him. He has practiced justice and righteousness; he shall surely live.

Yet your fellow citizens say, 'The way of the Lord is not right,' when it is their own way that is not right.

When the righteous turns from his righteousness and commits iniquity, then he shall die in it. But when the wicked turns from his wickedness and practices justice and righteousness, he will live by them.

Yet you say, 'The way of the Lord is not right.' O house of Israel, I will judge each of you according to his ways.

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I want to meet people in heaven who used to be like Osama Bin Laden--people who hated Jesus Christ passionately, and perhaps persecuted His people just as passionately, but who turned from enemies into family. (Besides the one I know is there, whose name is Paul.)

"We were wretched excuses for human beings," they will say. "We squandered so many opportunities to do good. We are utterly amazed at the undeserved grace and power of our amazing God."

"Me, too," I'll say.

To all of it.