Jumping...

The Bible says that "perfect love casts out fear".

Many of us don't really live that, or ever come to fully understand a life without fear or limits, because of the depressing, soul destroying world of false ego that we live in, that encourages us to "better ourselves" at the expense of something much more important: our walk with God, and our concept of Him. Many of us live a life imprisoned in the opinions of others, living a "nice life" wanting to please everybody because deep down, we can't stand not to be liked.

The Christian life was meant to be about getting lost in the wild and untamed countryside of faith, a radical trust in God to provide and guide for our footsteps, but we've turned it into a trip to the park once a week, where we ponder a few "life-changing" platitudes, look at the "map" for some solid "certainty", and then saunter off to go "back to the real world".

I've been thinking alot about my life lately, and the way in which it has turned out (in many ways) to be a huge dissapointment to me.

In part of my pondering God spoke to me so quietly and powerfully, when a sudden very painful memory of my school days hauntingly came back to me out of nowhere:

There I was, the stereotypical nerdy year 7 kid, (11 yrs old for those who don't know) waiting in the gym for a P.E. (Physical Education) lesson. I hated PE, partly because I wasn't any good at it, but mostly because everyone else knew I wasn't good at it, and made it known, lot's of times. All the other boys were starting puberty, I was what they politely call a "late starter", I even still had a high voice. I was skinny, short, and incredibly shy . I was the one who sat in the corner of the playground reading or daydreaming, the spotty one with the big thick-rimmed glasses. You get the idea.

This particular day our PE teacher, (a very tall and at the time to me, extremely frightening man) decided to teach us the high jump. All the boys lined up in a queue, gym mats were laid out in front and behind of the bar, and each lad had to take it in turns to run up to the bar from an angle, and hurl themselves over onto the safe mats beyond. Each boy took their turn, and I waited nervously right till the end, letting every boy take their turn before me.

Then it was my go, I couldn't procrastinate any longer.

I took a deep breath, ran as fast as I could towards the bar.....

And skidded to a stop just before it.

All the other boys burst out laughing, I must admit, looking back, I guess it would've looked funny. The teacher took pity on me, and being a good teacher, lowered the bar a millimetre, enough to look shorter, but in reality not enough for you to really notice. He encouraged me to try again.

That day, I tried four times to jump over the bar, but each time, the inevitable happenned.

I left PE that day totally humiliated. I was 11 yrsold, and I couldn't jump over a bar. I knew the mats were there to break my fall, I knew the teacher would be there if I hurt myself, but still I couldn't do it. A paralysing fear that I never knew was there gripped hold of me so strongly, that it literally stopped me in my tracks.

As I was remembering my feelings of hurt, rejection, shame, self hatred, I heard God speak very clearly. It wasn't in an audible voice, but in the kind of voice that you know is God's: the quiet, heart-breaking whisper of someone who has power but refuses to use it. The kind of voice that seems more breath than substance. It said two words.

"I know."

I cried at that point, and I still feel myself filling up as I type this. Those two words contain what I've experienced of God in my life so far. They're the same words that a mother whispers to her child when they've hurt themselves, the same words Jesus used talking to churches that were wondering when the horrible pain of persecution would stop, in the opening chapters of Revelation.

I felt at that moment that by dragging that long buried memory up, God was in effect saying "Do you remember that JM? Do you remember the pain, the shame, the rejection?"

"So Do I."

"I was there."

"I know."

Words pregnant with compassion and meaning, two little words that secretly are what you really want to hear from the person you're closest to the most. Whatever Im feeling, wherever I am in my journey towards Him, that's what I need to hear. In fact that's what his Incarnation tells us. He knows. He's been there.

I haven't blogged much of any worth lately, partly because what I've been reading, dwelling on, thinking about, and pondering, has so impacted my life that I'm still a bit shell-shocked at the moment.

Everything I've ever believed and given my assent to, I'm now questioning. I can't actually put into thoughts what I'm going through at the moment, except to say the God I said I believed in seems small compared to the God I'm now realising exists. I know that sounds very generalistic and mysterious, and for some people who read my blog and have had their own times of struggle, some of the thoughts/ doubts/ questions I've been asking and having won't be that new or controversial. But to me, they're staggering.

I'm also considering a big change in my circumstances at the moment, sorry I can't be more specific than that, but I'll have to wait and see whether events take their course or not. As always, I'm dependant on God. (Just in case people wonder, it's not to do with my MS!)

I feel like I'm that 11 year old boy again, waiting to take the big jump, but fearful not of what lies behind, but actually making the jump itself. At least I know however my views and cicumstances change, God doesn't. He's still the one who watches with compassion and delight over little boys who can't jump...