another late night drive

My free Monday nights have made it increasingly clear what I accepted when I told God that He could have everything. I enjoy the reckless language of His being "my only inheritance," but within this season, I am learning that He intends me to own this literally.

God has never spoke to me with such richness in my spirit, and I have never felt more alone in my flesh. His presence has been my only sustenance, and I can honestly say that there is nobody on earth in danger of supplanting Him. If not for Him, I would be lost. If not for His presence, these nights would be dreadful. If not for claiming His identity, my life would be worthless.

There is nobody waiting for me to come home at night, and nobody anticipating the sound of my voice. I cannot comprehend what it means for someone to love my heart. But God is finished with my complaints and pleadings -- I am a vessel of reflection. Looking back through years of His preparation, I see that it has always been this way.

I spent high school as "TWAN": the beloved, unofficial mascot of all things Bremen. People loved the mascot. People identified the mascot with state football championships and hometown customer service. But rarely did they want to know my heart. My heart has always been a scary thing: much too quick to love, and much too quick to hurt.

Working the camp season allowed me to be a different sort of mascot. The ministry face to my beloved state was the leader of games, music, sermons, and campfires. The kids loved the mascot. My staff loved the mascot. But they never knew my heart.

Anthony the Barista was a mascot with a skill. A co-worker once deemed me "The Zen Master" due to the hipster cool I demonstrated at the machine. How do I tell those that herald my composure that my heart is a blazing inferno beneath this costume? They loved me even more than those before, but they never knew my heart.

As the Holy Spirit is whittling away every bit of flesh that remains, I am learning what it means to have the attitude of Christ. Paul says in Philippians 2,

If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, them make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Your attitude should be the same as Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death -- even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (v. 1-11)

Scripture implies that claiming my identity in Christ is akin to dismissing the very rights that I hold as a man. Without thinking about it, most men would uphold a right to be heard, to be understood, and to be loved. They must consider their own interests in providing for their lives, and for the lives of their family. A good man is praised for his provision and ingenuity.

But this vessel has traded the mascot costume to be clothed by Jesus. Whatever selfish desire I hold to be loved by man (or a righteous woman) is a vain pursuit. If any should know my heart, they will not love me, but the God that overwhelms it. If any should hear my words, they will immediately be directed to Him. Until I find this place, I shall continue exposing myself to His refining fire.

Over the past couple weeks, I have realized that the only person that could know my heart is the one that pleads for the same inheritance. I crave the camaraderie, but in this season, He has given me no one to share this burden. I am confined to my two-bedroom monastery for as long as He chooses. This is incredibly frustrating for my flesh -- every remaining relationship He has granted is for this vessel to minister to those in need, through reconciliation with Christ. I am not allowed to seek co-dependency or comfort through this ministry; I am only to listen, pray, and serve.

Will this season outlast my physical life? It is not mine to know. But for this hour, Jesus is the only one called upon to wipe away my tears, and the Spirit is the only minister that can console my lonely heart. My flesh prays this is merely a test, and my spirit pleads for its eternal home.

For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. We live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due him for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad. (2 Cor. 5:4-10)