Look Like a Fool

I cried like a fool tonight at our RCIA class (the classes we have to take to join the Catholic Church).  It was embarrassing, I needed a tissue and didn't have one, and wiped my nose with my Disney Cars Band-Aided hand.  I would say I have pent up emotion.. but sadly, it's not pent up.  I now cry all the time.  I am beginning to come to terms with it, however, because I believe it is a sign that my heart is softening.  The Lord must want a huge piece of mush by the time he's completed me!

Tonight was a retreat night.  We didn't leave the room, so there was no "going" anywhere.  But it was a time for the large group to be divided into two smaller ones.  I found myself in the group with the leader who wanted to hear everyone's story of how they came to be seated in the chairs.  What led them to seeking full communion with the Catholic Church.  In fairness, most people were tearing up.  There were some amazing stories of the still small voice of the Lord, ever faithful, ever calling his children to him.  And I was encouraged that there are so many routes to the those doors.  Some are through well churched avenues like I have taken, and some are no church at all.  They just knew that they had to come.  Really, He is quite creative in sounding the horn.  It is so much sweeter and alluring than any regular "dinner's ready" cow bell.

As I was reflecting on my 2 minutes of cry fest once home, at first I felt ashamed, and embarrassed that I couldn't control myself enough to get out an eloquent summary of why I came.  Really, there are great things in my story that demonstrate the Lord's love, his goodness, and his wisdom.  There are great books that I could share, great Biblical truth's that I have discovered that would have been helpful to others, I'm sure.  In other words, so many ways that I could have puffed up my pride in giving my reasons for why I now desire this.  Prideful, because a great speech of head knowledge would not have exposed the heart. They would not have heard that Jesus is worth following no matter the divisions, the heart ache, or the pain.  I hope my snotting could have at least shared that.  Christ is all. And following him, is worth, everything. 

I remembered, after it was over, my reading for the day, and my constant prayer in the last few weeks.  This morning I read Paul; his letter to the Corinthians.  How often do we forget that while a great scholar of the law, brilliant, by many accounts, Paul was still not without weakness.  He sought not to wow people with beautiful speech or theatrical abilities.  He only wanted to preach Christ, and Christ alone, no matter how rough the message may have been delivered. 

"And so it was with me, brothers and sisters. When I came to you, I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God.  For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling.  My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power." (I Corinthians 2:1-5)
 
I am grateful that I read that this morning.  I am learning to be grateful that maybe somehow, through the tears and the somewhat flubbering, that someone could have heard how much Jesus has changed my life.  I am thankful that He allowed me to look foolish, so that He could become greater.  It is a constant challenge, to let humility reign, and pride dissolve.  It is a wonderful thing when what at first seemed like humiliation, was actually an answer to prayer.  For if I pray for humility, why should I be shocked when God decides to answer? 

Oh that I may always only desire the wisdom of Christ unattached to any selfish boasting.  He works in my life this way, and in another's, that way.  He calls us all to himself, sometimes with a clanging gong, and sometimes through a veil of tears.  And yet, the most significant blessing of it all, is that though there may be tears on many days, there is also an unspeakable Joy.  It is not contradictory, but rather complimentary.  The same tears that soften my heart are at the same time ushering in a Joy so complete and concrete that  no tear can break.  Joy comes with the Morning, and the Evening.  It comes with Him, so he can be honored in all things, even the ugly cries.  But next time I am going to bring tissues, just in case he decides to humble me again.