Still Waters

Let's just have a moment of honesty, folks: our faces are big fat liars.

We can be smiling and laughing and have the most merry demeanor in the whole freaking world, but inside we are more cold and dark and empty than Mammoth Cave. Some people may say that this illusion is cool and aloof and is somehow socially tantalizing. But can I just say, from personal experience, that it absolutely SUCKS to live this way? To live in the world of make believe. To have a pretty smile but actually have no control over your spirit. To have people tell you how happy you look when in all reality your soul is a weeping willow.

So now that we're being honest with one another, I can say that I was in that rut for months and now it has come back this past week. I come close enough to healing and happiness to smell which toothpaste they use. But then something will suck me back and keep carving out a space between my belly button and breastbone. A place of emptiness that can be concealed with folds of skin and fabric and smiles. Even if I have the most fantastic day in the world filled with sunshine and lily ponds and the best kind of sunburns, that two faced emotional monster will rear its ugly head.

And I have had enough of it.

During a prayer meeting for the city, I finally caved in and let my face match my weary soul. I was sitting away from the others in the church so that I could come clean to God. Like a shaking drug addict in rehab, I told Him again and again, "I just don't know how to make it stop. I don't even know how to pray. I just don't know how to make it stop. I know You've been healing me. But I just don't know how to make it stop."

I looked up and there He was...in the most beautiful stained glass window I've ever seen. It wasn't the most artistically skilled--St. Peter's Basilica probably has that covered. It wasn't the largest by any means--again, I'm sure Vatican City has that taken care of. But it had the sort of beauty that only comes from something that is absolutely true. The window was a simple picture of Jesus as a shepherd, herding a group of really plump and innocent yet empty headed sheep around His feet. Jesus wasn't decked out in some glorious robe or bearing a halo bigger than His head. Instead, His face was turned down in humility and love. He had on the kind of look that sees straight through you to the empty place between your belly button and breastbone. At that moment the only thing I could think of was Psalm 23. Yes, the one we all learned as lil kids but only really ever murmured the words because it was in weird KJV English. Yes, the one that's cheesily quoted in every semi-Judeo-Christian movie (slash oddly enough those about vampires or demon slaying priests).

The psalm's words began to flow over me like Jesus himself was gonna lean down from the stained glass window and poke my arm with His rod and staff in order for me to pay attention. Tears burned up my eyes so that all I could see was His face in the evening light that perfectly shown through His honest, humble eyes.

I will lead you beside still waters, Christina.

I will let you lie down in green pastures.

I will restore your soul.

I will lead you on paths of righteousness...for MY name's sake. Not yours.

Even though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, fear no evil. For I am with you.

My rod and my staff will comfort you.

I am the good shepherd. 

Often the green pastures that the Lord leads us to aren't the ones we expected. Often His paths of righteousness wind straight through that valley of death. But because our shepherd is leading us, goodness and mercy follow us on those gnarled paths. He is taking us to still waters. Let your soul be still. I'm not yet fully healed. I never will be on this side of eternity, actually. But I have my good shepherd. I'm letting Him lead me to still waters. That empty space in my gut isn't going to take control of me. I will fear no evil.