for joanna

*the title won't make any sense in this entry, but i'm still crediting joanna. while listening to the postal service over the weekend, she told me about an assignment she had for english class in which she had to analyze the song, "clark gable." i wish i'd had homework like that. and now i can't get the postal service out of my head. and for that, joanna, i'm very grateful.

when i like a song, i really like a song. that's how i feel about the postal service's "the district sleeps alone tonight."

i've heard it said that washington, d.c. is a city of lonely hearts. i don't know whether or not this is true. a song meanings website argues that the postal service believes it to be so.

many years ago, i had an opportunity to catch up with an old friend in d.c. while i was out east for work. i flew into d.c. nervous with anticipation, unsure if he would see i had changed (had i?) or if i'd be disappointed that he hadn't (were we more mature now?).

you can stare at someone for a long time, spend hours on the phone, talk over thousands of meals together, and somehow, it's still possible that you can be a stranger.

i strolled alongside him down the mall, conscious of my walk (i was wearing heels) and my posture (i have a hard time with button-downs). i'm not sure if he was conscious of the fact that i was there with him. we talked as though he were talking right past me. i thought maybe he didn't recognize me in my professional clothing.

when we went to dinner, i excused myself to the bathroom and put my hair up. i thought he'd put off his attitude and talk to me like we used to talk.

it didn't change anything.

sometimes you just cross signals. and then realize you're on totally different tracks.

other times you send mixed signals. i think you know you want to be with someone when, in the midst of being a total ball of confusion and frustration, that person keeps a light on you so you don't derail.

i don't need anyone to tell me i am a sinner. it's clear enough to me everyday, some days more than others.

i listened in church yesterday about the resurrection, but i kept thinking about the cross. my sins all on jesus. every single one.

each time i mess up big, i ask god for forgiveness and then ask him what i should do to let him know that i am really, really, really sorry. i devise all sorts of good punishments, tell him that if i mess up again, he should feel free to strike me dead. or that he should call me to siberia because i deserve to be alone.

i have a rather tragic complex.

it's kind of like i'm stuck in a time warp right before the resurrection.

i KNOW the truth, so i swallow it obediently and graciously, like i did at that ethopian restaurant in d.c. i was told the food was good, so i ate it, but i didn't like it. and while i smiled at my server, all i thought about was the burger and fry joint i'd stop by on the way home.

food or otherwise, i still think i know exactly what i need. and if what i need is a hurtful consequence for my sin, then so be it.

can god be gracious? yes, i think so, but i never act as though i believe it.

"his grace is sufficient," i hear. and i think, "thanks, god, for that. but now how do i know that you've really forgiven me? i don't want you to bring it up later and make me feel even worse. i don't want to be a sinner. i don't want to be afraid of you. so give me a horrible task, i'll complete it, and then let's never talk of my sin again."

i don't want to be a failure! i want a clean record every time. if i mess up, i want to tell god that i'm sorry, ask him to forgive me and then let me sweep it up and pile it in a dark corner of my heart.

i think the hard thing with god is that he'll light up your whole heart so there are no such things as dark corners. so that all my devised punishments look like me pushing dirt around my heart in search of a place he can't see. and then i can rest my broom on the wall of my heart, and tell him i cleaned it up myself, that i fixed it, and doesn't that make him happy now that i've done so well?

he is so gracious with me.

in moments like this, when i've sat down right in the middle of my heart with god's eyes fully on me and written all these possible consequences out for him to choose from, and when i've gotten to work at making amends for all my sins, and when i've carefully brushed all the dirt under a piece of furniture, and i'm holding up my broom saying, oh yes god, your grace is sufficient, that's when i feel god up the wattage in my heart.

i look sheepishly at the dirt i thought i had hidden.

and then i look up at him again. but i hid it, god! i cleaned it up! i did it!

the wattage turns up again. it reveals more.

spots so dirty i could spend my whole life bleaching them and never get them out.

and then he shows me the cross.

i dare to argue.

but what if i've done that same thing twice?! once is understandable. but twice? i want your forgiveness, god, but i want to really make it up to you. i want you to be god, but i want to be enough to cover my own sin!

mixed signals.

the cross lights up and floods light so bright into my heart that i have to shut my eyes.

when i open them again, there is no dirt in my house. not one spot. nothing. totally clean.

but he's left the broom. as a reminder that he hasn't stolen my will.

his grace is sufficient. jesus is enough. his forgiveness is full.

he keeps his light on me. never failing. never growing dim. and i can't make it up to him, can't write him a really sweet card that makes him like me again, can't send him flowers to win his favor. i just let my words be few.

and i bask in his glory. grateful. in awe.

letting god be god is good.

i think if you ever meet anyone who treats you even a little like this, forgiving you when you don't deserve it, you ought to humble yourself and accept it graciously.

i think when you meet someone like this, someone who doesn't run when you wrestle, someone who steadies you when you're a full-blown mess, someone who offers you grace in big measures, you know god must love you. because this person - for some reason - does, too.