This Thing Called Desperate

Almost a year ago I was battling depression and insomnia that had seemed to have suddenly overtaken my life. I have never weathered change well; this time in my life was no different.

I was sitting in my pew. Alone. My husband was at home sleeping off a graveyard shift. The altar call was made, it was a call for those struggling with addiction. Then, amongst the call for addiction, the pastor said something simple, “If you need a touch from God, come forward.”

Maybe he was still in the middle of talking about addiction, but I knew I wanted—no, desperately needed—a touch from God.

For maybe a minute, I wrestled with the idea of going forward. It’s not really for me. What will every one think? I’ve been on staff, led ministries, and here I am completely broken walking to the front during the addiction call. My pride battled me.

Ultimately, I didn’t care. I mean, I did care. I just didn’t care enough. I needed God. I needed His touch. I felt desperate, alone, weighted down with all the ways I was failing my kids and my husband… and I just knew I could not do one more sleepless night.

I made my way up to the front. It seemed like I was walking through the ending of Chariots of Fire, at a crawling-pace, slow-motion, a thirty-second eternity. I felt heads turn and watch me. I wanted to turn back, change my mind, but something like desperation had risen up in me. I would not be denied. I was headed to that altar. I was getting a touch from the Lord no matter what anyone thought of me.

I was desperate.

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I think of the woman with the issue of blood. The broken woman that she was. Unclean… unclean for years. She walked into a throng… no, she crawled through a throng of people. She reached out and touched Jesus’ hem. She didn’t know it would work. She was just desperate.

And without even knowing who had touched Him, Jesus healed her.

I think of Zacchaeus, little man, who wanted to just look upon Jesus so badly, he would climb a tree in a mass of people. He was willing to be the guy who everybody already hated publicly disgracing himself… just to see. He was a guy with everything… and nothing. He was empty, wondering what it was all for.

And in that crowd, Jesus called one man from where he was… the desperate guy perched in a tree.

I think of Mary who chose to ignore hospitality rules, who forgot about food and serving. She even forgot to think about what Jesus--guest--might need. She might have been a terrible hostess, but she wanted Jesus. To hear his words, sit at his feet, be his friend. She acted like hearing His words had the power to change her life. 

And Jesus told busy and proper Martha, Mary had chosen correctly.

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I think there is a direct correlation between desperation and God in our lives. 

I think desperation increases our faith in some kind of strange way…that complete and utter reliance on God.

I think God wants us to care about Him most of all… more than we care what is proper and what people might think.

I think sometimes we get so wrapped up in acting like a Christian, that we forget the first thing we are is a people who run after God.

I think sometimes we think that the more mature in Christ we get, the less we need of God. Isn’t the opposite is true though? The mature, the more-like-Christ-ones, are the ones who refuse to leave God’s side, the one’s who know transformation isn’t just the initial act of receiving Christ, but the daily act of becoming more and more like Christ.

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Seven months ago, I refinished a forty year old school desk for my daughter. It was battered from years of small children jabbing pencils into its surface. There were natural imperfections, knots and gaps in the wood. I sanded it down, took a putty knife and shoved wood spackling into the cracks, gaps, and pencil holes. I pushed, shoved, scraped, waited, and sanded. That desk is now single-sheet-of-binder-paper worthy. Smooth like butter.

I think Christ is like that putty. He fills our gaps. Sometimes it’s more than just giving Him an invitation into our lives though. It’s this slightly selfish, completely desperate act of pressing into Christ that He might fill those broken, empty places.

We become smooth, full of this Christ-putty, and yet, somehow, aren’t we more fully ourselves?

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Hi. My name is Amanda. I am a broken, gap-filled girl. I desperately need God. And somehow, in all this messy, I am becoming more like Christ. And that conquering thing?? Slowly but surely, one step at time, as this housewife leans into Christ, I am walking forward in this grace rhythm, with Christ.

I shall be called an overcomer.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Ummm… I almost hesitate to write this, because just the thought of it makes me want to, well, barf.  God sorta gave me a song about this topic a few months ago. If I can find a quiet moment and a quiet corner to record it (and my brave, big-girl panties), maybe I will share it with you… if you promise, like spit in your hand and super pinky promise, that you will just love me no matter how it sounds and appreciate what I hope will be Jesus glorified in me, more than you critique the singing and guitar playing.  

So very happy to be sharing in this community: