Transparency

This week has been a good week. So far I've met new people, spent some amazing time with the girls on my hall, confronted issues that were weighing on my shoulders, and gone swimming in an inflatable pool in our community showers. I mean, it's been a really great week by any normal person's standards. But sometimes, even with great weeks, we're still not okay.

This morning the chapel band played "Fix You," by Coldplay. It isn't a Christian song, but I encourage you to listen to it. It's amazing, and it's always been one of my favorites. I was sitting on the front row (which never happens because chapel is always packed) when they started playing this beautiful song, and the next thing I knew, tears were falling onto my neatly clasped hands. I sat very still, hoping no one would notice the incredibly emotional girl on the front row. It wasn't heavy duty crying, the kind of crying that is provoked and that contorts your face and makes your back shake. It was the type of crying that sneaks up on you. It was the type of crying that invites itself. I didn't know why I was crying, and I definitely didn't want to be. I felt like Charlie from The Perks of Being a Wallflower when he sits in his room, tears streaming down his face, repeating the words, "Stop crying. Stop crying." I told myself that it was stupid. I told myself that people would ask questions. The tears persisted. Knowing that I couldn't stop them, I closed my eyes and let the words fall over me. When the song finished, the speaker came back on stage and said a few more words before leading us into communion. 

I stood for the remainder of the worship service telling myself to suck it up before someone noticed. The speaker was giving his closing remarks, and I had just stopped crying when I felt a hand on my back. Crap, was my immediate thought. Way to be obvious. The Resident Director of our dorm, Cherie, was patting my back, and of course the tears started falling again. Through all of that, I still didn't know what had happened. I'm a happy person. I've had the best week. Why am I crying?

I've thought about this all day, and as I sit here and listen to the song again, I think I know why. I want to be transparent with you guys because transparency may very well be one of the most important attributes you'll ever know. I am broken. I'm trying to figure out who I am. I'm trying to depend on God more than I ever have before, and it's really hard. And as I listen to this song and hear the words "fix you" the only thing I can think is God, please do. The thing is, God can only fix us when we are broken. I think I've had a hard time with that because I know I'm in His will right now, and I don't always understand why I still feel pain. The fact is, just because you're in God's will doesn't mean it won't be painful.

Psalm 139:15-18 says, "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand--when I awake, I am still with you."

When I need a reminder of who I am, this verse is where I find my solace. God knows me. He knows what I've been, who I'm becoming, and what I will do. And when I feel completely and utterly turned upside down, I know that I can find myself in Him. He is fixing me. And I don't know what will become of these tears that have been shed or the pieces of me that have been lost and seem irreplaceable, but I know that God had my steps ordained before I took one. And, like the verse says, His thoughts are precious. I'm not being transparent so that you'll feel sorry for me or to evoke emotion. I'm being transparent because I can't wait to look back at this and praise God for His uncanny ability to fix us when we are broken.