Tuesday, 18 December 2012

Jar of Clay



Someway, somehow I never got round to telling you guys how "The Experience" was for me seeing as I blogged a six day countdown for it. Well, for starters, this was how I thought it would be:
Credits: llyc.org

Thousands of people lifting hands in worship, singing in heavenly unison, whistling and screaming only when appropriate (ie after each worship leader has finished a song), angels (visibly) flying above us singing along (lol just joking)
This was my view of the crowd while they were still contained. They look pretty normal huh?
But THIS was how it was: thousands of people screaming in unison, blowing mini-vuvuzelas in unison, angels invisibly hovering over us singing along (unless the birds that appeared just before the concert started count for something)
And I had the most mysterious fever that day. It started late in the afternoon and became full blown by the time Chevelle Franklin came on to sing. All else was blurry after that. I laid my pounding head on my friend’s lap and found uncomfortable sleep till 1:55am when the fever broke and I walked through shards back to the land of the living. Thankfully, it was just in time for Israel Houghton’s “I am not forgotten” I went to the concert with unrealistic expectations for the composure of the people that came. Thankfully, I still had functioning ear drums by the time I left in the wee hours of the morning. Not that I’m socially awkward or anything, I just had unrealistic expectations being that it was my first concert and all. Now I know what to expect next time I attend a concert.
I just wanted to put that out there before I get to the reason I’m writing this post. I’m writing this in the wee hours of the morning (wee hours last till 8:30am in my books) but I won’t be putting it up till night. Not that that little piece of information is vital to the reason for me writing but whatever.
One thing that God has been dealing with me on is loving a certain member of my family. I’m talking 7 years of bitterness and malicious hatred here. Every time I bring it to God, I always make sure to add the fact that I don’t think that I could ever love her and that I don't want to ever love her. Sometimes, I catch myself thinking life was much easier when I didn't feel guilty about not wanting to love her. But then, I was reading AnnVoskamp’s post the other day and it became as plain as day that I really can’t. I never will be able to. The minute I became a Christian, my bitter heart was taken out of the web that is my chest and Jesus’ heart was implanted in its place. And with the heart of Jesus in my chest, forgiveness is just a heartbeat away. I can forgive her in a heartbeat; love is just a heartbeat away.
Just a heartbeat away…
There might still be some bitter blood left in this body of mine but there is a loving heart in here too. A heart capable of loving the impossible…
`”We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure.”   2 Cor 4:7 (NLT)                                      





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