"Why don't you blog anymore?"

It's the middle of the night and I'm up. Up thinking about how much people change over time.

Some of you have mentioned that you miss my blogging out my thoughts... I guess ever since my major break down last year I have doing a TON of thinking and processing and praying and being still - if that makes sense. When I think about the last year the bible verse that comes to mind is when they say that Mary (Jesus' Mom) "She took all these things and pondered them in her heart". I haven't blogged my thoughts in a while because they are still forming.

Things aren't what you imagined them to be most of the time. Part of my break down last year was the long-time-coming realization that Jesus wasn't who I thought he was. I had had him pegged. All figured out. He was this, he was that, and this is the way you show your love and devotion to him, and blah blah blah. I mean I had staked my entire life on this Jesus and slowly the real Jesus was unraveling the image I had created. It's insanely frightening to stare at the fact that your whole life has been based on something just to realize it isn't what you thought it was. Panic attacks in sued.

At first I was ashamed to admit to even myself that that was one of the major things going on in my heart. Our culture puts so much guilt into our faith even though God doesn't "do" guilt in the sense of making you feel bad about things. He's far more direct, dealing frankly, not manipulating. (I know we're guilty of sin so all of you having a heart attack here - chill and just hear me out).

So, anyway, yeah. Couldn't even admit it to myself at first that I was doubting Jesus. I mean doubt Jesus? That would be horrible. Damning. Unacceptable. But I was.

The more I read his word, the more I talked with him the less he looked like the picture that was painted in mind. And that was scary. Uncharted waters. More panic attacks.

What would my husband think? Am I allowed to be thinking these things? What is going on inside of me? Panic attacks. Crying, crying, and more crying. The unknown is terrifying.

Finally one night, alone and crying, I asked Jesus "So, who are you?" and I felt (instead of the cold and angry response I had expected) a warm, almost smile in his voice as he answered "That's a good question. Let's talk about that." And the dialog is still going on between us. Slowly peace is inching it's way in.

I think when we get to the point where we can name all of the specifics that Jesus is and isn't we have created an idol. He's far too vast for that.