Disenchanted ~ trading it all in at the Cross.

Skipping through puddles in the parking lot.

I found myself perusing the bookstore when I had some spare time on my hands this week. People huddling inside the door. Taking shelter from the rain outside.

A damp and cold March afternoon.

Infused with the scent of spring and the prospect of finding a new treasure hidden on the shelves within.Shortly after I entered the store I made my way to the children’s section.

It seemed to draw me in.

After all, I had spent a great number of years in this space. Reading to my Sweet Louise on the little wooden benches. Adoring stuffed animals listening in the wings.

Turning pages. Turning years.

My heart’s memories could picture the delight in her eyes as she lovingly held a book in her tiny hands. 

Suddenly I was overcome with emotion.

In the hushed silence inside my head I remembered easier times when she was little. When every day felt like a new discovery. Something amazing to behold. A joy to experience.

Smiles and laughter seemed to fill those days.

Enough to even spill-over the top of some.

There amidst the balconies of books, among the Saturday stories and mommies holding little hands ~ I felt it.

That all-too-familiar bitter taste. That pressure sensation welling up in my chest again.

The hollow of heartache.

In that moment I desperately wanted to turn back to the beginning chapters of our story. To the simplicity of her youthful years. When parenting didn’t seem so hard.

I wanted to trade-in the angst and unease of this teenage time.

For laughter.

For the happiness we felt together when she was small.

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Where does this come from? This continued conjuring of discomfort. Dis-ease for my current season of life. Why can’t I just let it go and be grateful?

I step back and peer through a window of my days ~ I have so much to be thankful for. The Lord continues to provide for us. Abundantly.

So why?

…

Frustration finds its way, doesn’t it?!

I begin to recognize the generations of discouragement that have come before me. Recalling my own teenage journey. The tension, like a rite-of-passage. I can call to mind the look of disappointment in my parents’ eyes.

I never felt I measured-up. I never felt that I was good enough.

Certainly never enough to make them happy.

And lately…it’s there in my Sweet Louise. That same sense of dismay. The notion that she is also lacking.

Somehow insufficient.

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A passing along. A passing down.

The despondence of our DNA.

A handing-off of the pain. Of the misguided sadness. Like a musty antique that has been in the family for ages. These sinister sentiments unwittingly shared with our children.

A subconscious family crest.

An evasive emotional armor.

A positioning of resistance between ourselves and the pain of this world. A barrier to the sin of our heritage. To the barrage of burden we are destined to bear.

This disillusionment did not come only from my parents.

But from theirs. And those before them. From the foundation of our family tree.

All the way back to Adam.

All the way back to Eve.

Psalm 42:11 
Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him,
my salvation and my God.

I had recently heard the phrase ~

Hurt people hurt others.

And in the aisles of that bookstore I could feel the hurt in my bones.

It was that hurt that made me want more than what I had. That hurt that so easily transforms to anger. And if not surrendered to my Jesus, anger that would undoubtedly become words carelessly strewn at my daughter later in the day.

My hurt and disappointment for not having what I want.

My selfish sense of being.

…

You see…sin settles deep in the subconscious. This place of darkness – the enemy’s domain. In the untapped spaces of our souls he hides. In the remains of the hurt.

In the abhorrence of abuse.

In the poison of pride.

And in the crevices of these circumstance we see the emergence of disappointment. 

Disappointment for the goodness that hasn’t materialized.

Disappointment for the way that someone has trampled our tender heart. Anothers disrespect. A friend who doesn’t agree with our conviction.

Or a loved one who has let us down.

Again.

And again.

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But if we look closely we can see a common thread woven through the fabric of this ~ our disappointed existence.

The thread of expectation.

It runs congruent with our human condition. Visible to the seeker of Christ. In our moments of surrender, clarity comes. And we have an ‘ah-ha’ moment.

Disappointment only comes with expectation in our physical existence.

The two are directly proportional to one another.

Matthew 6:33 

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

When our lives intersect with Christ, our methods for approaching this world are dramatically changed. Our eyes are open to see the correlation in our thoughts. Our behaviors.

In that awareness, we can exchange our expectations. Trading them in for the perfection of His peace. For the felicity of forgiveness.

That is the power of the Cross!

…

And we are here, my friend. On the precipice of eternal life.

For Easter is before us.

In this season of renewal and hope, we are mightily reminded of His great and redemptive love. His overcoming the grave. His victory over death.

An old gospel hymn proclaims:

It was love, not nails that kept Jesus on the Cross.

Because God knew that we were sinners. Generations upon generations of desperate and lost souls. He knew that we needed a Savior.

A Comforter.

A King.

One who could save us from ourselves.

When Christ breathed His last breath on this earth, it was finished. All of the sin of our heritage was erased. From that moment forward.

In His death and resurrection He calls us to trade it all in.

All of the hurt.

All of the disappointment.

All of the old and worn-out ways of holding on to this world.

…

What can we let go of?

What do we grip tightly for fear of losing?

What do our hearts cling to for fear of never getting back?

Perhaps to people in our lives. Those moving on. Moving away. Or those already gone before us. Grasping on to memories of the past. Or dreams ~ once vivid now fading to a whirling wisp.

Maybe a more visceral clutching. To love, to recognition, or acceptance.

In the strain of clasping to, we are unable to experience the exhale of empty.

And though a sometimes frightening place to inhabit, is a prerequisite to our receiving.

Romans 8:28

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.

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Jesus came to wash mercy over the generations. 

To pass down the beauty of God’s unfailing love.

In Him we have the power to end the cycle of despair. To relinquish the fear that holds us bound in the past. That keeps us from knowing the glory of our present.

A joyous existence with Christ.

In the tomb our Savior exchanged death for life eternal.

And in Him, we are given that same gift. To live forever in His glorious presence. Because of His great sacrifice, we no longer have to subscribe to the sin of expectation.

And disappointment is eclipsed.

…

As we consider this Easter season of transformation, may we take wholly to heart the reality that God made manifest. The truth of His boundless love for us in the offering of His Son.

Our Jesus.

The Christ.

We can proudly proclaim our identity as children of the One true God. And that alone makes each of us more than enough. We are a masterpiece in progress. Artwork of the Creator.

So…when we meet Jesus at the Cross, we don’t just trade-in our heartache.

We trade-up.

To receive the magnificent glory of His Amazing Grace.

For in His arms is the only place that our expectations can be fulfilled.