Convalesce

It’s day 366. It’s not a leap year either. It’s simply day 366. Or day one.

And today at the gym the song Convalesce by Wolves At The Gate came on in my headphones. These lyrics penetrate my soul deeply.

The song title is enough to make me weep. Convalesce. A word meaning to recover gradually after a time of sickness.

It’s the chorus stinging the most:

Show Me your sorrow My love
This burden is the milestone ’round your neck
Convalesce and I will bear, bear your shame

Jesus bears our burdens. He bears mine. My shame feels exactly like a milestone tied around my neck.

It’s the beauty of this chorus’ melody and structure. The music is nearly perfect to me. It’s the message too that packs the punch where I need it.

It’s Jesus saying: Recover gradually son, you were sick, but I got you. Show Me your sorrow, I really love you. I’ll even take your shame with Me. But this milestone, this burden, this weight, this torment, it has to go. And I’ll take it. Recover gradually son. I love you.


It’s day one. Not just day 366. In fact, it doesn’t matter what length of time it’s been for me or for you.

The only thing I know for certain is the thing I’ve known since a child. Jesus has me, He has my burdens, He has my shame.

Convalesce.

Heal.

Misfit Mission

As I was laying out the concept of this blog I asked myself the following questions: Who am I writing to? Who am I talking to in this vast digital ocean? Whose heart am I really trying to stir with this central message of purpose and love and self worth?

A couple weeks ago I had an aha moment.

I realized I needed to talk with the person I am very familiar with. Someone like me. The person who needed this message of value the most:

The metal-head, the goth, the emo kid, the scene kid, the speech therapy kid, the misunderstood, the mistreated, the reject, the unloved, the ignored, the beaten down, the emotionless, the awkward, the pimple faced kid, the made fun of in church youth group kid.

This space is really for anyone and everyone. But I am hopefully reaching you. The Misfit.

The Misfit? I was going with outcast and baggy pants person from the 90’s.  Who are the Misfits? I mean really, I wasn’t using that term just a week ago.


But then my friend starts bumping this rap group I’ve never heard of called Social Club Misfits. Their mantra jolts me because they are basically talking about how much they are geeks, weird, boring, rejects, misunderstood, etc etc. Stuff rappers shouldn’t be saying out loud. And they are comfortable with this identity.

This short sermon song  pops up. I’m tearing up a bit hearing it. He’s talking to me. I’ve never heard the embracing of being a Misfit as he defines it with such confidence. With such assurance of self.

A Misfit is one who’s uncomfortable with his or her surroundings. Oh yeah, that’s me. Raises my hand slowly out of discomfort.

and is seen to be disturbingly different than others. Always have. And if you’ve experienced this too, you can rest assured you are not different. You’ve got me at least. And all of us Misfits.

And as Misfits one of our greatest discomforts is inconsistency amongst our peers. The dare is to be comfortably, consistently yourself. Be authentic. Be who you are. Wear socks with sandals if that’s your thing. You’re a Misfit.

There is a humble confidence, if I can use that phrasing, throughout this definition of a Misfit. They have put to words and music what my aha moment was trying to grasp at.

Trying, because I was only just beginning to become (finally) as confident as they are about being Misfits. It’s kinda amazing it all happens within a couple weeks of each other.

Social Club Misfits could not clarify any better in my mind what is pressed deeply into my identity and calling:

We are Misfits here if we are taking on Christ daily. And we are further Misfit (rejects, goody-two-shoes, freaks, geeks) if we are the kid who got picked last, the only non-swearing kid at bible camp, the person painting your nails black, the parent who is in prison, or the constantly laughed at.

But. Chin up.

You are loved. You just are.

 

 

Narcissistic Love

Love overwhelmed me. And I found myself crying in my car in the church parking lot.

Like crying crying. Not whimpering. Not onion chopping crying. But pent up emotions and trials and bewilderment and disbelief crying.

It was the culmination of all the events of my past year packaged into one heavy question I asked out loud in tears:

‘God, am I narcissistic to believe for one second every seemingly unrelated, earth-rattling event which occurred in my life over the past year happened because You love me? Can all these debilitating events be in rhythm with the incredibly joyful events, married to each other in order to finally capture not just my attention but my heart?’

It broke me. And I think that is the point.

I was begging the question in the most relational way possible as the tears flowed. How could God be utilizing the actions of others to breakthrough to me? It struck a nerve because I was trying to convince myself God shouldn’t be including other people and their circumstances just to usher me deeper into His embrace.

God loves me? When the fact manifested itself in multiple wake up calls, love dissolved into the innermost parts of my soul. And the fight was on as I was saying out loud in the car ‘God loves me? How narcissistic of me! All these things happening to me, involving others, crashing me down or lifting me up, all of it can’t be happening just to refine me so I fully trust God! That’s so self centered.’

I was fighting with a strong either/or. Either all this is randomness occurring while I attempt to piece my life together. Or it’s all happening because God loves me so much. I was finally breaking down with the ramifications of the latter. Yes. It could all be happening to draw me close to Him. Which means God loves me. Always has.

And it really left me in a heaping mess when I realized this is not a narcissistic love. He loves you too. He actually does. If you lean in a bit to Him, you’ll notice the Light cutting through the darkness so it can be with you.

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Bridges Of Scars

My math was off. By four.

I posted a couple weeks ago how I felt like I was 21 again. But as of today I am back to 17 year old me in high school. Back when weighing in the 180’s was the norm. For the first time since high school, I dropped back into the 180’s!

Measuring weight is one thing, and I am floored I accomplished this.

But the change in my energy and emotional well-being is the highlight. My energy level is off the charts right now. My ability to focus. My creative energy. It’s all here again.

Maybe it’s here again. I mean, it’s been so long I may have forgot what it was like to feel healthy. Or maybe the feeling is more of a rewarding sense because there was much to overcome, in contrast to 17 year old Dave just living off being young and athletic and indestructible.

See me in the before shot from 2013? I can’t see me. I provide this not as a before picture but as an in-the-middle-of picture.

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2013

Back then I was very aware I was not myself. I know a statement like that would be totally different if I had been heavy my whole life, but I hadn’t been. I had a past version of me to reflect on, a goal to get back to. My prior youthful athletic self was enough of a sample size to know I wasn’t myself.

I am closer to me right now. I want to live fully into the person Jesus wants me to be, the person He made regardless of my situation. He redeems everything. He leaves nothing to waste. He’ll even take dark seasons and turn them into the very best light.

I’m convinced telling my story so others can realize they are not alone in their pain is exactly how Jesus will be using my out of control weight years.

I’ll build bridges made of my scars to you.

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2017

But until then all of our scars will still remain, but we’ve learned that if we’ll
Open the wounds and share them then soon they start to heal,
And as long as we live, every scar is a bridge to someone’s broken heart
And there’s no greater love, than that one shed his blood for his friends.” – Thrice, For Miles

 

Suffering Servant King

If presented an opportunity to escape,17880716_10154990001490428_6187808501320875383_o
What would even be left for freedom?
The distance to travel is too great,
For it is wholly contained within.

There is a weight you cannot shoulder,
It pushes you down lower still,
An inner depth deep within the heart,
Barren while time washed through your hands.

Why heap pains on top of sicknesses?
Grinding of the teeth with a heart clenched,
Hiding in plain sight from the sorrows,
Justifying the extinguishing of passions.
___________

The Suffering Servant King noticed of all this,
Held a cup,
Lifted it,
Drank it,
And found your mangled heart at the bottom.