So, it's been a while. About three years actually. I don't even remember the last thing I wrote on here, and I'm certain that much has changed since my last post. This is still my story, but you don't have to take my word for it. Maybe I'll start posting on a regular basis. Maybe it'll be another 3 years. Who knows? Anyway, if you're reading this, you're probably a part of my story. Enjoy.
- JG
11-4-15
You. You are my first. You are my last. You are my future and my past.
These are the words I was singing out to Jesus from both the bottom of my heart and the top of my lungs as I washed a mountain of dirty dishes. They are lyrics to ‘Future/Past’ by John Mark McMillan, which happened to be the song playing at the time. Several other songs had already played and faded into memory, but this one was different. I was pretty familiar with the album version of the song, but hearing and seeing it live is a totally different experience. The way they film concerts these days is so engaging. It really can make you feel like you’re a part of the show, and in a sense it almost makes it better than actually being at the show. You have a better view, there’s much better sound quality, and relatively little to no chance of getting kicked in the head by a crowdsurfer or covered in the sweat of a random stranger.
As the song played on and I scrubbed and rinsed away the stubborn remnants of past meals, hands wrinkling in the soapy water, I began to notice a change. My eyes were wet with tears, not of sadness, and maybe not even of joy. Maybe it doesn’t even matter. The fact is it was worship, and it was real. The thing I remember most was thinking, “Hey, I’m crying. I haven’t cried in a looooonnnng time. Cool.” I also thought, “Crap. Now I can’t see, and can’t even wipe my face because my hands are all soapy and gross.” Apparently I didn’t think it a viable option to simply rinse and dry my hands. So I just went with it, and let the tears roll.
The next time the chorus came around I was all in. Weepy. Probably on the verge of getting a headache. There was probably snot, too. I didn’t care. In that moment, I was simply enamored with Jesus. And as I reflect back on this time, I get the feeling that He was completely enamored with me. So there I was, in all my disgusting glory, singing out to Jesus the words “You are my first. You are my last. You are my future and my past,” as if I was the one who originally penned them. And then something really strange happened…
It was as if I heard those exact words being sung back to me from Jesus Himself.
“You are my first. You are my last. You are my future and my past.”
Talk about losing it. I had never experienced anything like that before. I was a wreck, but in the best way possible. For a moment the thought crossed my mind, “Hey, you can’t say that. It’s supposed to be all about Jesus. You can’t switch the focus onto yourself.” But that thought didn’t last very long, because in that moment I just knew. I knew it was real. I knew that I am loved. Despite all my human understanding’s immediate rebellion at the thought that my life, my heart, could be so significant, I felt the Lord confirming those words to me. Like our relationship had reached a point, if only for that single moment, where the beat of His heart and the beat of mine had perfectly synced up and overlapped in true unbreakable union.
And at this point, my rebellious flesh was stunned to silence. I had been looking for a moment like this for about a solid year, and had almost given up on more than one occasion. But here it was. Here was my chance to shout out to God, “You matter to me! Why is this so hard?!” It was both an offering of broken worship and a confession of doubt. I was already wrecked. So to hear the Father say to me “You are my future. You are my past.” just sent me over the edge. Like He personally told me “You matter to me. You. However insignificant you may feel. However unworthy. However broken and full of doubt. You are the one I love.” I had grown up singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ and all the other songs that speak of God’s love toward us. And I thought I believed it. But maybe I hadn’t really experienced it up to this point. And as ridiculous as it seems, I was compelled to defy logic and believe these new words. It was crazy. And I was more than a little freaked out. But it was so freakin’ cool!! Like the moment on Christmas morning when you unwrap that one special gift you had set all of your hopes on for the whole year… I had to tell someone.
Immediately my friend Courtney came to mind, so I texted her (It was 11pm. I had to wait). The next morning I get a series of texts from Courtney that said she had experienced the same thing and thought “No way! That’s not possible.” I was blown away. Maybe I wasn’t crazy or heretical after all. If we had both experienced the exact same thing, including the immediate doubt and subsequent affirmation, maybe it really was real. Maybe we both weren’t crazy. Or maybe we were. But if we were, I’d be willing to bet we’d both be content with that craziness. In that moment I didn’t care. I knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that He loved me.
Just one moment in the Father’s heart can destroy any hint of lingering doubt or fear. Both of which I later found out were in great supply. But that is another part of the story. Maybe next time.
