Privilege in Pain, Glory in Dying

I can almost guarantee that you have never considered something as undesirable as pain to be a privilege. I had not ever considered it, either, until I progressed out of a season of pain into a season of painful silence. In my season of pain, I felt compelled into the presence of Jesus. In my season of pain, I felt a sense of life and security. In my pain I found purpose, and drive, and motivation, and will power. Here in this season, I find stillness. Here in this season, I find feelings of intense disconnect. Here in this season, I find myself in the dying, and it is extremely uncomfortable yet unexpectedly beautiful in the most indescribable way. Naturally, I am going to try and write a blog about the most unexplainable thing I have ever encountered.

In some respects, the past month of my life has been the most uncomfortable thing I have ever encountered. I wake up in the morning and struggle in vain to find some kind of normal. My rogue heart strives to find just one thing besides the Lord that is consistent to cling to as if he were not enough. I sit down at the end of the day to process my thoughts and consider where I am, and I come up totally empty-handed, unable to pinpoint what the Lord is doing in my life. I feel as though I am floating through my days and weeks, collecting scratches as I bump up against the rough edges of unfamiliar environments and try to squeeze into places that were not meant for me.

What is happening, Jesus?

At the same time, I am realizing like never before exactly what I was made for. I am realizing what my heart burns for. I am starting to see a glimpse of what Jesus had in mind as he sat down to craft me, and opportunities have been unfolding more rapidly than I could have ever imagined for me to carry out what I was built for. Even at the end of those days when I feel most alive, however, there is  a wrestling on the inside of me that stops me in my tracks. When I am doing what I most love, whether it be loving teenagers or holding the hands of the homeless or lying on the floor of my room in worship, I can feel an opposing force rising up on the inside of me and war being waged in the depths of my being.

What is this, Lord? 

Turns out, this is the dying. This is my flesh being put to death. I can honestly say I have never been in this place before. I have never passed through a season of life quite like this where the Lord asked for my hand and then walked beside me in near silence concerning my own heart. He is being so intentional in every minute of this season, and I am seeing almost none of it as it transpires. I know he is working because I feel the shift, the struggle, the battle taking place. I see his purpose in it all. I understand that I cannot live my life if there is any of me left to live it. I find glory in the dying because he considered me, and now calls me higher. He is taking me to a place where I no longer live, where nothing of Alexis remains. He is gutting this space and creating a meeting room to conduct his business, and I am losing who I am in the process in the best way possible.

No one serves so faithfully as a dead man resurrected, for he has nothing standing in his way.