I am a person of extremes. I am also naturally impulsive and emotionally driven to the point that it is very, very difficult and can take every ounce of reason I have to discern between how something feels, and how something actually is (this might only make sense to those of us for whom it is true, and there are a few of us).



These, I have learned over the years, can be very dangerous character traits. It is not that I do not strive for the middle ground in life (for consistency; for moderation;for balance). I just cannot seem to find it, and when I do, I cannot seem to stay there for long; I swing by like a huge pendulum on my way to the other extreme, grasping wildly as I go by. I will work myself to exhaustion over a period of weeks, months, even years (my stint with YoungLife being a good example of this), and then spend weeks or even months barely able to peel myself off the sofa. I will be the biggest junk food junkie in the world (again, YoungLife), or you won't find any white flour or white sugar in my house. I am either completely in love with Jesus and every fiber of my being is alive with it, or I am completely disinterested and might even wonder if I even believe any of it. I am either completely undisciplined in my spiritual life, or I find myself a Pharisee.



I do not have bipolar disorder, but I have two very good friends who do. One of them once described her experience of it for me...when she was in a manic state, she believed that she could do anything, like the world would bow to her every whim. Then when she was in a depressive state, it was as though the sun has gone down on her whole world and the darkness covered everything, as though all was lost. That is how I would describe my spiritual life. I am "spiritually bipolar," and I just do not know of a treatment.



This week, this Holy week, has been a spiritually depressive week for me. I know that I should be moved by the fact that Jesus one Sunday rode into Jerusalem, the crowds hailing Him as king, and not a week later, was crucified...dying an excruciating death to wipe away my sins. I know that I should be stirred to some sort of spiritual high when I hear the story of the women weeping at the cross, or moved to repentance for my betrayal when I remember Peter denying Jesus. I know that I should feel my heart awake within me when we read of the resurrection. But this week....nothing. This week I am a white-washed tomb.



The verses about Israel's honoring God with their lips, but their hearts being far from Him...they are for me. The story of Moses being so impassioned for Israel's freedom that he murders an Egyptian slave driver, only to find himself so comfortable herding sheep in the desert that when he is called by God to fulfill that destiny, he isn't interested...that passage speaks of me. I also know, like Moses, that there are times when I frustrate God...times perhaps when, like Moses, He just wants to put me out of my spiritual misery right there in the desert on the way to Egypt..."just bring her home," I can almost picture the Father saying to the Son, or visa versa (however those conversations go amongst the Trinity).



This morning, on the way to church, the girls were in the back seat of the van. I overheard their conversation. They, like most little girls, play a lot of imagination/roll-play type games. This time they were practicing sharing the gospel with each other. Grace was apparently the "unbeliever" in the game, and Kate said to her..."You see, Jesus died to pay the price for our sins so that we would not have to." Those were my words...she had heard me say them many times before, mostly to teenagers. It was truly beautiful to hear her say them. Normally, I would have been moved to tears hearing her say them. I know they are true...even when I do not feel them, even when I am not interested in the fact that the are true...even when my heart is far from God, He is not far from me. I know all that. I know it...this week I just don't care that I know it.



So, that is how I arrived at church this morning. It was my Sunday to be on the worship team. I came because I said I would, because it was my week and because I have learned that I cannot just not do what I have said I would do when I stop feeling like doing it any more. I will not elaborate, but that did not go all that well either. There was only one line of one song that spoke to me, that stirred anything remotely like worship within my soul...it was God whispering to me, I recognized the sweet voice that I usually love so very much, usually thirst for like a deer after water...today, through my disinterest I did hear His voice. It was through a Matt Redmon song that He spoke, the title escapes me, but it does like this.



Your blood speaks a better word

than all the empty claims

I've heard upon this earth

speaks righteous for me

and stands in my defense

Jesus it's your blood.



It was Jesus saying to me, "Molly, My Blood has the final word for you, and that word is righteous."

It is not my heart, or the state of my heart that has the final word in my life. After all, tomorrow morning I might have the world's best quite time and find myself in rapturous love with Jesus again. It is not my obedience or rebellion that has the final word in my life, for tomorrow I might find that I once again delight in the Laws of God and His Word. It is Jesus that has the final word...His blood and His heart for me (which is always LOVE). Jesus is bigger than my heart and He has the final word! (I John 3:20)

===========================================================================

I wrote a song about one of my depressive spiritual states. If you are reading this, I would love to hear your thoughts on that song. It is entitled "Days I Don't Believe," and you can hear it and a couple others at http://www.mollystewart.bandcamp.com/. Eventually I am going to ask all you all to vote on which of those songs to enter into a songwriting contest I am competing in Nashville in July. You can be the first to vote on that. Remember, they are rough "live" type recordings and will be thoroughly worked up musically before I head to Nashville with them.