Redemption Groups: Hangover
We've asked a Redemption Group participant to blog their experience anonymously through our Fall 2014 cycle. Ultimately, the purpose is to bring glory to God for the good work He is/will be doing in the participant and others (Psalm 107).
Tuesdays carry some hangover effects from Monday night's RG. God does deep unearthing and stands firm while we watch our walls collapse and sigh with relief to see our idols fall. The teaching catches our attention and draws out struggles, highlights sin, and always handles us gently but honestly. We take our chairs into our group room and make small talk but know the tears and confession are moments away. We sit with friends who quickly but comfortably become dear to us. We see one another in our weakest states and we lay, bruised hearts and naked souls, in front of friends who we met just a few weeks ago. Monday nights are rough and awesome in the same breath.
"Clearly a work of God is happening because confession is a new language for me..."
Tuesday mornings I hug the covers more tightly than usual and try to process what happened the night before. My dreams through the night were weird and poked at old emotions that annoy me in my vulnerable state. I wonder how my husband slept and how we'll interact today, hopeful for little tension. Lately I have been too aware of my own sin to settle in the "I'm right" camp so I'm already sensing an eagerness to apologize when I'm wrong, confess when I've sinned. Clearly a work of God is happening because confession is a new language for me, one that I know I've heard before but have been reluctant to learn and also because I'm fluent in the language of "right/correct/perfect/acceptable." (P.S. This language does not exist so it makes me wonder what I've been talking all along...have mercy.)
"I could not help but cry and cry out to the Lord for mercy and grace, humbled by the way I've sinned against him. Yet, in the most mysterious way, I was utterly confident that the blood he shed for me covers, again and again, my sin."
The conviction nearly crippled me last week when I was driving my minivan along the highways in Fort Worth. It was another Tuesday morning and I was genuinely wanting to see anything and everything that might be driving my affections away from God. (Side note: It's funny what brokenness makes you desperate for.) Then I saw it, this vast and terrible wasteland, where my love for others' approval of me held this determining power over...well, everything. I saw that I really worshipped this idol with every thought, instinct, and nearly all decisions. God opened my eyes, removed the blind spots, and beckoned me in the midst of the sin and offensive adultery. I could not help but cry and cry out to the Lord for mercy and grace, humbled by the way I've sinned against him. Yet, in the most mysterious way, I was utterly confident that the blood he shed for me covers, again and again, my sin.
Just before leaving for RG yesterday, my psalm came pouring out of a place saturated with grateful worship and face-in-the-dust humility. Even as I typed the words, I was amazed at what God has done for me and what he continues to do for me. What grace to have my psalm formed and come to life during the week where such healing and repentance took place. All grace.