I came across this post the other day while surfing the NiT aggregator and laughed because I know the bugs the author was talking about. I’d never seen them before moving to the South, but they are indeed the stupidest bugs on the planet. Or at least in the South. They come out with Spring and spend most nights throughout spring and summer banging themselves silly on whatever around them shines the brightest, desperate to “go into the light”. Maybe they’ve watched Ghost Whisperer a few too many times.
The night after reading that post I saw heard one of these bugs desperately slamming itself against my rain-drainpipe. Poor thing must have gone blind looking at the motion light right next to it and mistook the shiny-ness of the drain for his into-the-light opportunity. I walked into my house laughing, still hearing the incessant bzzz-clunk!-bzzz-clunk! Stupid Bug indeed.
Today a thought smacked me in the face as hard as that Stupid Bug hit the drainpipe. Maybe I’m just like that bug.
Go with me here for a moment. I’m thinking as I type, always a dangerous thing I know, and we could very well end up way off in the tall grass instead of the playground. But I can’t help wonder if perhaps I really am more like those Stupid Bugs than I want to admit. I keep banging into something shiny thinking it’s my moment to finally step into the light, only to be thwarted by some stinkin’ metallic thing, or worse, by hot glass that not only forever separates me from my goal but burns me badly in the process.
Kat recently reminded me I am not alone. She took offense at me saying that God is all I have. It wasn’t meant as an offense, nor had I forgotten her friendship, or that of many others in my life. Rather, it is a true admission that everything else in my life will one day leave me. Kat, you will one day die, my friend, as painful and ugly a thought that is to both of us – and if I am still alive, you will leave me behind. Everything and everyone else in my life is the same. They will all one day die and leave me. God is the only thing in my life that will never leave, never die, never walk away. When all else is gone, He will still remain. When all else fails me, He will not. For a girl with serious abandonment issues, this is a truth too good to believe.
So instead of basking in that truth, reveling in it and celebrating it, I spend my days banging away at false lights, determined to go into them, no matter the cost. When they elude me, as they always will, I get frustrated and kick my legs in the air like some petulant two-year-old in the midst of a tantrum. Its only when I’ve exhausted myself and lie there on my back, panting, too tired to move anymore, that I am able to hear God’s whispers of Truth. “I am the One True Light.” “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” “You are mine and I love you.”
I didn’t go to church today. I was exhausted from another round of banging away at the light. This time it wasn’t Purpose I madly flew toward, but something else entirely that would take a whole ‘nother post to explain, so I won’t go there. But the effect was the same. Exhausted, on my back, legs flailing like a Stupid Bug. I could have pushed through the exhaustion and gone to church anyway, as I’ve done for other things important to me. But I just… didn’t. Instead, I slept.
When I finally came enough awake to recognize hunger and went in search of food, I fully expected to hear the stern Voice of God berating me for “forsaking the assembly”. I certainly felt like a sinner for staying in bed, so why shouldn’t He see me as one? Surely He would have harsh words for me, a supposedly “mature” follower, stubbornly staying in bed with the covers over my head instead of facing the world head-on.
He didn’t. His voice was sweet, His touch gentle, His words soothing. He wrapped me in love and spoke of never leaving me, never condemning me, always loving me, always being “for” me, even when I run from the very life He’s giving me. He asked me questions, nudging me to go deeper into the dark things in my heart and life that scare me into hiding or into frantic slamming against false light. And even when I was too scared to go any further, He stayed, still enveloping me and whispering His love.
I don’t know what Stupid Bugs do during the daylight. I don’t recall ever seeing them except at night. But I have to wonder if they try to fly into the sun the same way they try to fly into my porch lights or if they just bask in its warmth and ever-present light. Perhaps its the loss of the the sunlight that makes them crazy and brings on the frantic desperation to get into whatever available light they find.
Maybe that’s my problem. Even though God is ever-present, there are dark things that can block out His light like an eclipse and make life go as dark as darkest midnight. When I lose sight of Him I go a little crazy and frantically look for another source of light, any light. When I find it, I slam the hell out of it in desperation, until I exhaust myself, or daylight returns.
I know there is way out of this cycle. And someday I will trust God enough to live through the dark nights without getting frantic or desperate for false light. But in the meantime, His grace covers me, even when I choose to sleep instead of “do church”.
My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness. — God
Okay, back to the discussion. What I learned from Barney goes basically like this:
, that you’ll never know if a moment is "divine" or just ordinary until you step into it. They both look just the same from the outside. For the most part I agree. But I have also found in my own life that God makes it pretty clear at times that this particular moment staring you in the face is divine. Sadly, my fear gets the best of me more often than not, and I don’t step into those moments. Instead, I just watch them pass, never to know the amazing God-moments I could have been a part of. Beth didn’t do that.
