baggage

I've never moved. I've lived in the same house, the same town, the same (amazing wonderful awesome best) state all of my life. I was even born in my house. I live in the country. I love it. I love being here and I wouldn't trade my childhood spent here for anything else. I've been very blessed. I feel like that word is tossed around and taken very flippantly, but in all seriousness, I've been super blessed to live such a settled, comfortable life. Having to move is stressful.

I've helped people move. Lots of people. I really can't imagine uprooting myself time and time again. Some people have done it so many times, it feels normal to them. I have never done it, so I can't really imagine what it'd be like to put everything I owned into boxes and transporting it to any entirely different place. It's kind of an adventure, and I'm really excited for the day I get to move. I know it'll be stressful though. Some people just have so much stuff, it's crazy. For some people, moving is a time of accumulating more, and for others, a time of losing some of the unnecessary baggage. I feel like I'd be more likely to lose stuff-- get rid of a lot of the things I don't need. Carrying all of that stuff around can be very difficult. That's what it's important to have help.

I remember one particular time, my family went to help a friend move. It was the middle of summer, and pretty hot outside, so we were trying to hurry and get it done. I remember I had chosen something particularly heavy for some reason. I guess I thought I could carry it all the way. Anyhow, I remember I picked it up, and started to carry it into the house. I was doing pretty good the first several feet and then it dawned on me that I was about to drop this thing. I kind of panicked a little bit. I remember trying to get a better grip on it, but nope-- this item was about to hit the ground if I didn't do something about it. I remember my brother walking by at that moment, and in a frenzy, I just started yelling at him (not really yelling, but kind of frantically begging) "help me, help me, help me, I'm about to drop it!". He had something in his hands, and he responded frantically to me (seeing as how he already had his arms full and I was spazzing out at him) "I can't, I can't, my arms are full!"

Well. Needless to say, I was rescued by my brother-in-law, who came along beside me and helped me with it.
I remember distinctly though, the moment I realized I couldn't carry it by myself. I freaked out a little bit inside. I panicked. I don't usually panic but I did. Chaos ensued in my head. I also remember the sound of my brother's voice when he said "I can't!". It was a little devastating, seeing as how I was about to drop my friend's piece of furniture, haha. But nevertheless... it was something I didn't want to hear him say.

I feel the same way about my spiritual and emotional baggage. I'm a private person. There isn't a whole lot I tell people openly. But if you were to sit down and have a solid conversation with me, I'd become an open book. I'm okay with letting people know that I've got some major flaws, but they do not define me as a person. Jesus has swooped down and rescued me from many many terrible things in life, and I am forever praising Him because of His goodness to me.

I do have a lot of baggage. I carry regret in my pockets every day. There are some things I wish I'd never done, decisions that have emotionally and spiritually scarred me. Unfortunately, there are some people who have far more baggage than I do. I can't imagine how hard it is to have gone through something so emotionally damaging that you carry it around for the rest of your life. It's a sad reality for some people.
Some days though, I recall the memories and the pain, and it hurts, and it discourages me. It hurts so badly, because I can't take it back or redo it, and I just call out to God to help me. I feel like I'm chasing after him carrying this baggage, crying "help me, help me! I cannot take this!". And to me, the worst thing in the entire world would be him turning around, taking one look at me in my wretched state, and saying "I can't help you."

But I don't believe in a God who gives me the cold shoulder. I don't believe in a God who gives me the stink eye when he figures out I have issues. I don't believe in a God who judges any of my failures, past, present or future. I don't believe in a Father who sees me returning home, goes inside, and locks the door behind him. I don't believe in a God who holds my sin over my head, and brings it up every time I do something wrong. I don't believe in a God who pushes me away. I don't believe in a God who shames me.

Instead, I believe in a God who waits for me to return. A God who offers real, unconditional love to me. A God who desires fellowship with me when I don't even seek Him. A God who embraces me when I'm the dirtiest, most unclean sinner. A God who, when He sees me returning home, opens His arms and says "come here!". A God who gives me each and every new second, new day, new week, new month because He is gracious. A God who helps me-- really helps me-- when I don't feel like I deserve it. A God who sent His own Son to us, so that we would never have to be bound by our sin or our flaws. That's the God I believe in. He is righteous, He is jealous, He is good, He wants my attention. All of it always, no questions asked.

So I'm always going to strive to give Him all of my attention always. I fail Him time and time again, but righteousness is a pursuit that will not end in perfection until I sit with Jesus in heaven. I'm thankful He can handle all of my issues. All the issues of every ever created. I'm glad He never gets tired. I'm glad He is always open to me, open to my late night talks and problems and anger and frustration and joys and sorrow.

So life will get you down, and throw a lot of curve balls. Roll with the punches. Live with a positive attitude. Run towards God. Live with abandon, love others with all your might! That's just my advice though.

Till next time,