Reality Check

It's another night I planned to go to bed early and catch up on sleep, but here I am again, not sleeping...I just can't go to bed right now with so much in my heart and mind.

I just read She Said Yes, the book about the Cassie Bernall, who was killed in the Columbine shootings nine years ago. It's by her mother. Reading something like that really puts life in perspective.

I read the book out of curiosity, mainly. It's always interesting to read a book when the main character shares your name, especially if your name isn't a commom one. You identify with the character even more strongly and can usually put yourself in their shoes more easily, because in some small way, it feels like that person is...you.

I think I always had a stand-offish attitude about Cassie Bernall because of all the hype about her being a martyr and the way people acted like she was a saint. But in this book, her mother is very honest about who her daughter really was- yes, a girl who stood up courageously for God, but also a very human girl with struggles and attitudes, etc. So it really appealed to me.

So, as I set the book down and tried to hunker down under my blankets for the night, there were very strong thoughts pounding inside me. Misty Bernall wrote about how her outlook on life changed when she lost her daughter, as anyone's outlook changes when they lose someone close to them. And I was struck with that too.

Life here is so brief and fragile, and material things are so much more trivial than we can imagine. The past week I have been feeling like my life is so bogged down and entangled by material things and concerns...food, clothing, my body, housework. I know that we do live on the earth, and we have to deal with these things and manage them in a responsible way, but in moments like these I catch glimpses of eternity and I feel grieved that I might be so wrapped up in these things that I would miss what is real and imperishable.

It strikes fear into my heart- a holy fear. A fear that is right, but fear nontheless. A fear that makes my spirit groan, and makes me cry out, "Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?" (Matt. 6:25) I feel like someone trapped in quicksand, crying out for help. I can't help myself. The world's pull is too much for me. My selfishness is too much for me to cope with. Without Jesus, the best I can do is close my eyes and keep sinking. I'm feeling the weight of what Jesus' words when He said that "a man can gain the whole world and lose his soul." I hear His call to follow, and I have been following, but there is a new level I'm stuck at, and I need His help.

My heart was broken when I read about Cassie's pre-salvation years in highschool when she was involved in witchcraft, cutting, rebellion, and was filled with such intense pain. Usually I'm so wrapped up on my Pollyanna world, seeking more comfort, that I can't really fathom someone being in that much pain, let alone reach out to them. My heart is broken because I know that some of the people I know and love are in this kind of intense, desperate pain, drowning. If you are one of those, please forgive me. I am nothing without Jesus. I want to live where you are. I want to enter your suffering like Jesus did for me, but I'm not strong enough to do it on my own.

In the book there was a quote from Martin Luther King that said,

"The minute you conquer the fear of death, at that moment you are free."

For me, it's the fear of dying daily, the fear of being disappointed in that moment my plans are overturned or my wants are thwarted, that I need conquered. So is that where faith comes in...where I don't have the strength to love, but I have to believe that His strength is enough? "Those who trust in Him will never be put to shame..."

In the book, Cassie's mother wrote,

"Cassie struggled like everyone struggle, but she knew what she had to do to let Christ live in her. It's called dying to yourself, and it has to be done daily. It means learning how to break out of the selfish life...it's not a negative thing, but a way of freeing yourself to live more fully...it's not a question of doing great deeds, but of being selfless in the small things..."

As I read Cassie's family and friends' reflections on times they spent together and regrets they had and things they wished they had done differently, I sensed the brevity of life. The people I know and love are so precious, and it hurts me that I often brush them aside because I "don't have time," or because I'm so preoccupied with getting the dishes done just so or with making a certain thing for supper or with my mouth being sore. One of Cassie Bernall's friends wrote:

"When you love a person, their life is a gift to you."

God has given me a lot of gifts. I want to stop and look my gifts in the eyes and truly appreciate who they are. And I want to enter their pain when it's time to do that. I want to enjoy them, imperfect as they may be, remembering that my life is a gift to them, to, imperfect as it is.

Things here on earth are not what they seem. Everything seems so important, so urgent, so necessary. But so much of it isn't. I think we'll be really shocked at how things turn out in the end, how much really falls away, and what really remains. I really want God's eyes to value what is unshakeable.

"Once more I will shake not only the earth, but also the heavens. The words "once more" indicate the removing of what can be shaken- that is, created things- so that what cannot be shaken may remain.

Therefore, since we are recieving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and worship God acceptably with reverance and awe,

for our 'God is a consuming fire'"

Heb. 12:27-29