Undone

It happened the other day. A small crack in my earthen vessel, the swell rose from deep in my soul, and the floodgates burst wide open. I couldn’t even tell you what blow led to the tiny crack, but my weary vessel gave way. When this cry rises within me, there is no stopping it. The tears, the salt, the snot, the words, the groans all mingle together. I end up on my face, completely at my end…once again. But as I pour out my innermost turmoil before the Lord, the tears turn to praise. I then lie still and calm and spent in His presence, filled with both peace and exhaustion.

Undone.

There are moments in time that I don’t know what to pray, I simply groan inwardly, as if waiting with all of creation, in eager anticipation. Waiting for that day when we will no longer be subjected to the futility of this world and will be set free from the bondage of corruption. Straight out of Romans, chapter 8.

It may seem a tad dramatic. But when I get to that place, there is no rational thought. It’s me and my emotion and my need and my Lord. I may have scared my children a time or two over the years, enough to write Jeremy and tell him to get home quickly. I never know when that tipping point is close. I just know that, in that moment, I must release everything that is pent up inside of me and pour it out before the Lord.

A lament.

An offering.

I’m not alone in this. Many examples jump from the pages of Scripture.

David, at the news that his child would die, wept and fasted and lay on the ground for seven days. When the child died, David “arose from the earth and washed and anointed himself and changed his clothes. And he went into the house of the Lord and worshipped.” (2 Samuel 12:20 ESV)

Hannah, with an unmet desire to bear a child, found herself deeply distressed, praying, and weeping bitterly, pouring out her soul before the Lord, with “great anxiety and vexation.” After she had done this, she was no longer sad and worshipped the Lord. (1 Samuel 1 ESV)

Mordecai, when the nation of Israel was faced with annihilation, tore his clothes, put on sackcloth and ashes, and cried out with a loud and bitter cry. Both in the streets and sitting in the king’s gate. All the people joined him “with fasting and weeping and lamenting.” (Esther 4 ESV)

Job, having lost everything, “arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped.” He declared that the blessed Lord is the One who gives, and the One who takes away. (Job 1:20-21 ESV)

Then there’s the sinful woman who comes to Jesus with an alabaster flask. She literally wet the feet of Jesus with her tears and cleaned his feet with her hair, while anointing him with ointment. His final words to her that day, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” (Luke 7 ESV)

Each of these souls were undone before a sovereign, holy, reigning, yet compassionate God. 1 Timothy 6:15-16 declares that He is blessed and alone is “Sovereign, the King of kings, and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see. To Him be honor and eternal dominion. Amen.” And, at the same time, Psalm 103:8 declares, “The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” This is why we fall prostrate on our faces before Him. Where else would we go?

David wept for a different reason than Mordecai, and Hannah wept for a different reason than the woman at Jesus’ feet. But each one found themselves prostrate before the Lord, throwing themselves on His mercy and giving Him their everything.

I have come to Him like this many times, for different reasons, but I will never forget the first time I was confronted by the overwhelming holiness of God and completely undone by my sin and weakness and frailty, in light of His righteousness and goodness and might. It was a total surrender of everything I am. Everything I desired. Everything I dreamed. I was completely undone in His presence.

I had the awesome opportunity to intern in Washington, D.C. for a semester in college. I loved everything about that time in my life–the city, the freedom, the exploration, the people. But do you know what I loved best? I fell deeper in love with my Lord in that place. I had the most marvelous times with the Lord. I found Him in the pages of Scripture and talked to Him as I rode the Metro and basked in His creation sitting atop a hill. He was very present with me in those moments together.

However, as my knowledge and understanding and intimacy with Him grew, there was a storm brewing in my soul. From all outward appearances, I was happy and successful. I loved the Lord, obeyed Him. I studied hard and did well in school. I was blessed with so many wonderful friends. Yet, I was still holding on to certain things in my life, wanting to have it His way and my way. I sensed that these two things were coming to a head and a battle loomed. But I had fallen so in love with God during those months away that it became more and more difficult to hold onto my desires. I wanted so much to live for Him, but the idea of letting go of everything was still a struggle.

One dreary afternoon, I was absolutely certain what He was asking of me. Lay it all down. I felt Him revealing things and peeling the layers away in my heart and mind and soul. It was excruciating and, yet, freeing at the same time. The pain brought me to my knees and, ultimately, on my face before Him. The joy and peace kept me there, for a long time. When I got up, my life was changed. No longer my own. But His.

Undone.

This was the beginning of a life poured out to Him. It was the very first step in my call to go overseas. It was the day I vowed that every step, every decision, would be brought before Him, weighed and measured. It hasn’t always looked pretty, and it certainly hasn’t looked anything like I thought it would. But it is a life stripped bare, looking to Him. Following Him through joy, through pain. Traveling far and a life locked down. Less of me. More of Him.

Friend, I’m still living in an earthen vessel. A jar of clay. Sometimes those moments of intimacy feel far away. My heart is, at times, driven to distraction. My soul gets weary of persevering. That’s why I find myself prostrate before Him fairly often, under the weight of it all. And it almost always has something to do with control, or lack thereof. Circumstances beyond my control, where I come to the end of myself once again…

Unable to change that circumstance,

Unable to control that outcome,

Unable to settle my anxious heart,

Unable to lift my weary head,

Unable to heal my hurting child,

Unable to sway a wayward heart,

The list goes on and on…

I’m so thankful, in those moments when I am completely undone, He draws me to His presence. I am thankful His work in me is not done. I am thankful that He is all I will ever need. Because this weary world doesn’t need more of me. This world needs more of Him.

Romans 11:36 says it best, “For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen.”