Manhattan No: 3

 I've always been good at confrontation. Standing up for myself and those I love is easy. I can argue politics and philosophy till I'm blue in the face, debate whether or not you should really buy that Prét unlimited coffee subscription (sorry Noelle) or flat out tell you that boy you're talking to is probably trash. 

But what about confronting myself? What about staring down the injustices and immoralities of my own soul? How good at am I at that? Admittedly- it is a weak point. 

My fatal flaw is pride. It makes me swallow hard when I'm corrected and burn red when I answer wrong in class. Combined with my pride is a devastating desire to be perfect. This duo of pride and my perfectionism means that it is excruciatingly difficult to admit that I'm wrong, and then when I do confront it, my first instinct is to wallow in shame and berate myself for the mess I am. All too often I become a sulky child in the corner petulantly telling my Heavenly Father, "You just don't understand." 

But I am learning over and over again, that my sin does not invalidate me from the plans my God has for me. He is aware of my sinfulness and offers me mercy when I come crying over what a wreck I am. It's actually part of his perfect mercy that He chastens me when I mess up and offers me a hand to rise from my shame. Shame is never of God. And I know this! I've known this, and yet it's a daily lesson. A daily task of reconciling myself to my sinfulness and allowing an all-seeing God into this wreck of my life. 

This is His love- that He corrects us. That we recognize we are wrong and try harder, and inevitably, when we mess up, He will still be there waiting with arms open.  In Proverbs 3 He says, "My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life many years and bring you peace and prosperity... Let love and faithfulness never leave you, bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of God and man...Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight...My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline, and do not resent his rebuke, because the Lord disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in."  

This afternoon, sitting on a black metal bench in Battery Park, I broke down crying. Even in New York, apparently people do stare when you cry in public. I've experienced so much here. But there are days when I feel like the loss of what I left at home greatly outweighs the gains of city life. 

Anxious to escape curious onlookers, I wiped my face and put in earbuds, switching my "Worship" playlist to shuffle. "Hallelujah Here Below" came on as I walked into the field. I followed the sun till I was standing in a single shaft of light, my face upturned to the warmth. And I cried and sang and told God how broken I feel. I prayed for peace. And was reminded that I must not only ask, but choose peace. Every day. Decide to trust Him. Decide to accept rest. You know that old cliché, "If God feels distant, remember it's not Him that's moved?" That's true. I've been keeping God at arms length. But I need Him closer than a friend. In my heart, and my shortcomings, and my entire mess of a life. 

I know I talk about this a lot on this blog. And perhaps the redundancy is wearisome for you. But this is where I'm at. Learning, and relearning, and accepting that that's okay. 

I hope you know that too.