My Heart's Check Engine Light

For those of you whom I shared the events of Hell Week with, thank you for praying for me.  Shortly after Cordelia's check engine light appeared that evening I thought I could take no more.  I had all I could handle.  (which is true...because I was the one handling it - and not letting Abba do His thing.  

Speaking of Abba doing his thing - the Holy Spirit (such an awesome teacher!) reminded me of these verses even while I was reaching out:  

2 Corinthians 4:16-18
English Standard Version (ESV)
16 So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self[a] is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 17 For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

I decided to take a deep breath (ok... 12), and most importantly, take my thoughts captive - because really, in the midst of the awful, Abba has provided and is continuing to do so.  He provided for me on Monday when I had the biggest outbreak of hives I've had to date (Eating sandwiches with a side of gluten two days in a row might not have been so wise...), and He provided for me (sometimes miraculously) in the midst of pressures at work. 

The check engine light remained on throughout the week reminding me of my continued vulnerability. I find it comforting that the tribulations continued and culminated on Thursday when I came home to the power being turned off.  I had forgotten to pay my bill and apparently had been paying a month behind possibly for several months... summertime educator poverty - I must have gotten a month behind and never caught up. 

Sometimes I wish I had a check engine light for my heart (edit:  okay...and maybe one for my budget).  Every time I thought about my car and the bright orange light desperately shouting to me "Warning!  Danger!", I was tempted to fear being stranded, fear not being able to find the resources to fix brokenness, and fear my inadequacy.

My heart's check engine light would illuminate when I give in to the fear of rejection, when I focus on only how inadequate I am (though sometimes I pretend otherwise); and when being found 'lacking' feels the same as death to my idolatrous perfection motivated heart.

When we sang "It is well..." this morning.  I remembered that sometimes the sign for "well" can be signed two different ways (maybe more):  "It is good"  or "it is calm".  

I could do nothing but release all control to the One who cares for me more than I imagine.  Just like my High School math teacher, Mr. Schrum, taught me:  look at the givens first.   

So I tell myself: 

*Peace.  Be still.  Cease Striving. 
*Jesus is in the boat in the midst of the storm.  
*Keep your eyes on Him, not the waves.
*It's all good.  
*Perfect love casts out fear.  

That last sentence reminds me of the sweetest "accidental" worship time that happened last Sunday evening - before Hell Week began.  I was writing down the words and chords to "Boldly I Approach" in my 'take these songs to Kenya' songbook and tried it out on my guitar.  Coming to the part that speaks of the bright and morning Son, more beauty than this world has known.  I continued to sing  "I'm face to face with LOVE Himself...." 

...until I was struck speechless.   

I couldn't strum.  I couldn't sing.  

It's like a solar flare erupted in my heart and the universe stopped to worship with me. It was the most beautiful moment ever. 

Moments ago, leaving church, wrapped in that Love, and stripped of counting on my "works", I walked to my car


 ...and noticed as I started it that the check engine light was no longer illuminated.