Monday, July 1, 2019

epiphany


I wanted this epiphany moment.

My black, swiss army backpack rested against the coarse zipper pocket pressed into the rigged light tan stones of the community commons. I had one black mock-van shoe pressed against the rim of the other as my left elbow rested against my left thigh. My right hand held a phone.

I feel like I can’t do this anymore. It’s like I’m in a dream. I don’t understand what’s happening.

It was October of my freshman year of college, less than sixty days into the rooms classes books people places conversations newness swirl of this next season of life. When I’m surrounded to things that are new, I’m learning that one thing isn’t new anymore: that this often means the Lord is going to strip away.

Mom, maybe I have a demon in me or something. I just want this all to go away.

So, I set up a meeting with the silver-haired, strongly soft safe soul who I respected almost more than anyone on that campus. As my porcelain hands were help up in exasperation, her smooth chocolate fingers closed upon themselves in prayer.

Nothing happened.

Nothing happened like I wanted it to. Yes, my mind was soothed by her presence and words, but no incredible supernatural burden felt lifted. No emotional weight felt suddenly eased. No demonic happenings emerged. No watershed moment. No big, lightbulb experience where I encounter Jesus on some incredible level so that my problems were suddenly solved.

I wanted immediate change, and all I was seeing was that nothing had immediately changed.

I grabbed my backpack and wanted to pack up and move away, go almost anywhere else, do something that would allow me to escape the reality that my life looked little like I thought I wanted it to and there was no easy fix.

My same mock-vans then carried me next to the smooth green grass, and I sat, right by the edge of the water, ankles crossed. I felt like Minnesotan breeze-sting push against my face as the water pushed against the small grained sandy shore edge.

Daily. It’s going to be daily.

And I didn’t want that. At all.

A daily choice to have to conform these thoughts of mine to those of Christ’s (2 Corinthians 10:5)? A daily choice to take up my cross and follow Jesus (Luke 9:23)? A daily surrender of my selfish desires and pride and anger and fear? A daily renewing of my mind (Romans 12:2)?

Naw, I wanted transformation. Instantly.
But now, years past my freshman year of college, I’m seeing that these instants occur more frequently. These moments where I feel the fragility of my flesh. The moments where I see I am so prone to wander, Lord I feel it.

I’ve cried for one giant breakthrough and been resounded with the fact that it’s learning to have the daily breaking—the daily breaking of anything that stands in opposition to Christ. But it’s a breaking into—the daily breaking into everything that Christ is.

Christ is the Rock (1 Corinthians 10:4).
Christ is the Savior (John 4:42).
Christ is the King (Matthew 2:1-6).
Christ has overcome the world (John 16:18).
Christ came to give life (John 10:10).

And that I have access to this daily?

Here I sit, in the true epiphany moment—that each moment can be a forever with our little epiphanies, epiphanies that we serve the Creator who has given us the inheritance with Christ, the help of His Spirit, the promise of His word.

Daily. It’s going to be daily.

I’ll take this infinity of epiphanies.   

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I definitely don't want this to be a monologue. What are your thoughts? Questions? Ideas?

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