Not What I Signed Up For

My crabby quotient has been extremely high lately, which means my compassion quotient has been atrociously low. Not that compassion is normally a strength of mine, which spells all the more disappointment in the lives of people around me.

I remember singing "I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart" when I was growing up in church. Somehow I picked up the notion that Jesus was going to make all my days great. Blue skies and birds singing. Ha. I was a touch off on that notion.

You might think that growing up in church, going to a Christian university, completing a Master of Divinity degree, working in ministry for 6 years, and consuming all the sermons and blog entries I can, would have some kind of positive effect on that 'joy, joy.' But tonight I'm wondering about that.

What does it really take to meet Jesus and have your life radically changed? I'm not sure that's happened. I mean, I know of Jesus, we've talked a few times, I try with much of my physical and mental ability to follow him, and yet I still find myself crabby, short fused, depressed, and void of empathy for those I profess to love. You'd want to believe that things would be more different.

Sanctification (becoming more like Christ) has become a long, hard, painful, sometimes treacherous journey for me during the last 18 months. There have been many steps forward, but also some backward. Strongholds, defects, and wrong ways of thinking/ feeling/ being have had to be confronted and dealt with - and these things change ever so slowly. Why God does not snap his metaphorical fingers I don't know. I probably never will.

He has put me on a path. There is a road that only I can walk. And I'm going. I just wish the collateral damage wasn't as large, and that the road wasn't so long and confusing.