Highways and Hearttrips

I have been on the road home for a while.  The distance from Bozeman to Polson, MT is around 300 miles; which does not sound extraordinarily long.  Yet when I anticipate hugs, soft hugs, and welcome homes, the curves become wider and longer, the hills steeper, and my Blazer engine grows weary. 

God and I have been working through some stuff the last couple years.  I have been learning slowly, how to accept His grace and forgiveness, learning how to back down, how to melt my stubborn heart, and turn my anger, frustration, and distrust into open-heartedly seeking the adventure He prepared for me.

I have been on this road a long time, and I am ready to be home.  The last miles are especially hard.  I reached Missoula, about an hour away from home, but the trip drags on.  My Blazer does not want to drive as quickly as usual.  The interstate once easy to navigate becomes a narrow highway through mountains; the speed limit decreases then increases; the curves narrow and I need to attentively drive.  Although I have driven this before, it does not seem to get shorter.  I don’t know why.  One would think that remembering the landmarks along the way would quicken the journey; that familiarity breeds comfortability, and roads becomes less strenuous.  But it doesn't seem so, and I long for home.

I am getting closer to God lately, too.  Last summer I ended a relationship with someone who was hurting me and dragging me from God.  I am developing a better sense of school and academics; what it means to practice healthy habits and find excellence, and what it means to be overly perfectionist.  I am seeing how excellence is doing best with what God gives me, and investing time into that which gives life.  Putting on hold those I love is not always best, even if it means getting an A.  Not all As mark high achievement.

The miles on my speedometer accumulate, but they go towards good goals.  This last stretch has been particularly hard.  I know home gets closer when the trip starts to get long. 

This last week was really, really hard.  I had a painful and disheartening encounter with an ex who's pastime is bringing me down (which I am learning I cannot fix), school accumulates a test and two large papers next week, only one of which I started.  Then, I got a parking ticket.  The projects and long-time list items I intended to complete over Spring Break didn’t occur, and my parents were weathering a storm together.  More difficult was leading worship for the Kalispell church campus.  Before the service, I had a hard, long fight with someone I love.  And although I was given the blessing of singing with the band, with it came the challenge of adjusting to unfamiliar equipment and team members while holding lingering turmoil.  I was wired up, hearing the talkback and different channels, the click tracks and sound booth directed into my ear, focusing on singing while standing on stage.  The lights shine brightly, my feet are tired, and I am thirsty.  Singing with the team was amazing, to worship God amidst the rainstorms and chaotic traffic in my life, but hard.  My timbre seemed to have lost its spark.

I know I am getting closer to God though, because things are getting hard, getting rough.  The Enemy sees my progress and wants to shut me down.  Right after I finished singing for the service, I accidentally clipped another driver with my Blazer.  It was rainy.  I didn’t even see her coming.  I am getting closer, because things in my life are getting darker and harder, like that final hour before arriving home.  It drags on, because you’re so close and suddenly everything becomes more meaningful, and you want those last miles to finish.  The Enemy sees his opportune moment to strike, using this time of anticipation to bring me down.  He thinks, I need to stop you, because you’re getting close to what I held you back from for so long, what you let me hold you back from. And now you’re pushing past, you’re realizing that my promises are empty. You’re realizing I have sold you more than I can deliver, and I have absolutely nothing to offer. 

Because one thing after another stacked up like dominoes to destroy my courage.  These last hours are real hard, but I know I am getting closer.  I know the Enemy is raining down hard because he intends to stop me from achieving a closer relationship with God.  From knowing God deeper, coming back to the relationship we had when I was fifteen, but this time so much greater and deeper because I experienced some hard, cold, times, and our relationship will be richer for them.

I’m close, but I have time to go.  More could jump out on either side of this road; who knows what the trip might hold.  Lord, give me grace for whatever trials lie ahead, as I push through to knowing You.  I feel myself nearing greater intimacy, greater wisdom in my relationship with You.  Whatever is left to surrender, let me release.  Whatever anger I hold, let me loose.  Getting home is also letting go. 

As I near home I can feel it.  I recognize these fir trees, these road signs.  God, bring me home safely.  I will drive on, as I discover what You long to give me, how You long to know me.  You never promise future highways won't arise, but You promise to accompany me always.  

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love He predestined us for adoption through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will— to the praise of his glorious grace,which he has freely given us in the One he loves." ~Ephesians 1:3-6

The "Usual Graces"

“I hate it when you get so good at something, you aren't praised for it anymore.”  

Said my younger brother, referring to Ultimate Frisbee, but referencing deeper emotions. 

We have a desire, a need even, to be encouraged in the day-to-day practices, the mundane virtues so common and ubiquitous they cease to be recognized and applauded.

It’s true.

Every day, moments and interactions between siblings, friends, parents, are rich with these “usual graces.” So we cease to praise, taking them as given.  And then something upsets our acceptance of the norm, like the Isis mass-murders in Iraq.  We cringe at the horror and evil, something so obviously wrong.  Consider this an opportunity to clear our heads of blindly overlooking the daily miracles of patience, kindness, compassion, and sharing, and instead praise them for the windows of grace they are.

How would it be if we encouraged each other daily, in the "usual" virtues?  If I commended my eight-year old brother for patiently listening to his father’s instruction?  If I blessed my younger sister each time she responds in sensitivity and empathy to her mother's wishes? If I thanked my workout partner for sharing when I forget water? If I silently prayed encouragement to myself, when I respond graciously to someone blatantly disagreeable?  These usual graces deserve as much praise and encouragement as “big” ones.  The husband who stays faithful to his wife for thirty years deserves equal applause as the recently-converted alcoholic who’s stayed sober for three weeks.  We expect greatness from each other, every day, but do not empower each other near as often as we should.

My brother Jesse could cease investing in Ultimate Frisbee abilities if he senses no one appreciates them anymore.  Micah could stop listening patiently if he feels it is no longer seen as a gift.  Elisha might stop hugging me in the morning, if I don’t tenderly return the gesture.

Encourage one another in the small graces—they are from where greater goodness flows.  Those who have moved mountains, accomplished great things, grew from encouragement in the little virtues.  The mother who remains calm when her teenager yells in her face is empowered by the consistent encouragements along the way, for each act of patience with her child.

It may be expected, but that does not mean it should cease to be recognized and thanked.  I need empowerment and support to run a marathon, but I also need praise from the sidelines during each arduous and mundane pushup and crunch along the way.

We are made of the small graces; our greatness is fashioned from these glimpses of faith, of love.  Our nitpickiness in the small things, like frustration when clothing is dried on the wrong setting, or green leaf instead of romaine lettuce is bought, reveals our ability to notice details of action.

So thank your sibling for listening to your long story that eventually had a point, thank your father for checking-in on your job progress, your mother for making coffee.  See more of the small graces.  When we start to accept goodness as the norm, we cease to praise it.

It’s hard to be patient, to be steadfast, to be faithful, to be loving.  Even the stars of grace, the best players on the field, need encouragement to continue performing.  To continue improving.  Every catch that Jesse makes is as viable and crucial to his and his team’s success as the impressive layout he makes minutes before end-game.  Without praise for the small graces, we are disheartened, and tempted to cease.  

The usual graces appear everywhere, peppered in our conversations and interactions.  Praising them, both in yourself and others, encourages the continuance of a practice upon which the entirety of godliness is built.  Faithful in the small, faithful in the large.  (Luke 16:10).