“This is the new covenant in my blood, shed for you.” For you.
And i guess somehow I’d missed the “for you” in all the craziness of life and living. I think God was saving it for me, for this time when I’d need it more than ever.
Yesterday, I was walking along the beach of Huntington Lake (original name, eh?) and thinking and praying… and I just kinda got this idea that maybe I should write a few of the lies I’ve believed in the sand – somewhere temporary where I would realize that 1) I can walk away from them, and 2) the rain and wind and tide will wash them away. So I wrote them, in the sand, like so:
LIES I HAVE BELIEVED
-You are unlovable.
-No girl could ever love you.
-No daddy would ever trust you with his little girl.
-You are wicked.
-If anyone ever got to know you, they would walk away… or if they didn’t, they would never trust you again.
I looked over the lies, then drew a cross next to each one with my stick. I faced them down, one by one.
“You are unlovable” was busted – Jesus loves me, this I know. “For God so LOVED the world… For God so loved David. And people love me, though not all of them. I am lovable because He is love.
“No girl could ever love you.” “FALSE!” I said out loud to the wind and the lake. “I know several girls who love me. False!”
“No Daddy would ever trust you with his little girl.” I stared at that one, unsure of what to do with it, and decided to come back to it.
“You are wicked.” “FALSE! I AM the righteousness of God, in Christ.”
“If anyone ever got to know you, they would walk away…” “FALSE!” I said to the sand. “There are people who know me, really know me. They didn’t walk away. FALSE!”
“if they didn’t, they would never trust you again.” There was no loud “FALSE.” I just said softly, “Ree trusted me.” And that broke it. If Ree trusted me, trusted me with little kids and with telling them about Jesus, then there must be something trustworthy in me. Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t trust me. Maybe I’m just afraid I’ll hurt someone. And maybe I’ve been projecting that fear onto other people. Girls and their daddies maybe. Maybe.
So I looked up and realized that I’d been projecting that fear of me onto daddies of girls. “False,” I said to that one. I took my stick and scratched over all of them, in large letters, FALSE.
I didn’t realize until later that the trust part is kinda like the high ropes course at Jumonville: I’m not even holding myself up, so whether or not I trust myself to stay on top of the wire, as long as I’m clipped in, I’m not going to fall. My part of the keeping me safe is so minimal. Jesus does so much. Maybe I should trust myself… Not my sin, not the devil.. but trust myself, that maybe I can do some things right.
But that leads back into Communion today. When I was remembering my fear that perhaps I am unlovable, the body and the blood of Christ suddenly took on new meaning. Because they were “for me.” They were, out of Jesus’ love, for me.
They’re “for you” too. Remember that the next time you hold the bread and the cup in your hand and are meditating on your unworthiness: That in spite of your unworthiness, Jesus body was broken and his blood was shed, and you place in your mouth a representation of that body and blood… broken and spilled…