As a television producer, I spend a lot of time in the edit suite. Each suite is virtually soundproof, and there's minimal light (with the exception of the computer monitors and plasma screens) - just the way I like it... and for good reason.
Today, I had a very good conversation with a friend about honesty, obedience, relationship. It was a conversation that I knew the Lord wanted me to bring up weeks ago, but in my disobedience, my friend brought a few things to my attention, first. We talked for over an hour, and after the conversation, I felt like I wanted to cry. So many thoughts raced through my mind: "Did my friend lose a bit of trust in me? Terri, how could you..." In turn, I felt like I let my friend down and it crushed me. (Real talk). The conversation ended well, but I felt like I failed somehow, I had knots in my stomach, I couldn't think straight, and all I wanted to do was pray. And since I was at work, I went to one of the most quiet and secluded places I knew of - the edit suite.
I closed the door to the suite, dimmed the lights, reached across my laptop and turned on some worship music. I sat in the corner and I wept. I started thinking about what it must feel like when we can often reject Jesus with our actions, our time, conversation, habits, lies, mistrust, disobedience... The tears kept coming as my heart turned and turned because like my friend whom I love, I want Jesus to know that He can count on me.
The more I thought about loving Jesus, the more I cried. "Lord, I don't ever want to take You for granted," I whispered. "I don't ever want to miss you speaking because my life is meaningless without you. I don't ever want my life to reflect itself, I want it to reflect you." My tears turned to sobs, deep sobs. I started repenting for all the times I let "things" take the place of Him. I started repenting for living a life that can so easily be perceived one way, instead of living a life that should be fully perceived His way.
As I cried, I just felt weak. My eyes were closed and I could envision an egg being cracked all the way around. When that shell fell off, there was another layer and then another, each layer thicker than the last. After what seemed like a 'lifetime' of cracking, I saw the middle of the egg. In the middle was a gorgeous multi-colored stone, shining brightly. And through that, I was reminded that He is my hiding place and safe refuge. And as my life is being cracked, broken, shaped and re-shaped, I'm being transformed into a valuable and useful vessel. His hand is on my life, and He is pleased with me. And because he's with me, I will not fear.
What a great reminder. That probably had to have been the best cry I've had in a long time...