Real

Real hurts and real pain require a real God. One big enough, strong enough to carry the load.

Too often we want to sit around petting and doctoring our lives, our emotions, so they will absolutely look good. Or right. Or enough.

You see, Real is too messy for us. It requires feeling. Being Out. Of. Control. It requires going places you'd rather avoid or even wish you didn't know about in the first place.

Real is like a live fire cracker. You are never quite sure when it will detonate and explode or inspire with beauty unimagined.

It's that second part that has captured me. The breathtaking beauty found only when I am Real. Translated, that means when I am honest, truthful about who I am, what my actions are or have been and how I feel about it all: The good. The bad. The ugly. Only then, am I able to recognize that stained glass windows have dark colors too, that cause the lighter ones to radiate.

What I've discovered is, that it is only as I am honest, Real, with myself and others, that I see my God more clearly. To do otherwise, is like trying to drive while the windshield is covered in frost. To deny our true selves is to deny our need for Someone bigger. Someone able to see beyond all this anger and ache, failure and fright. Someone who loves, even our mess. For Real, is messy.

And glorious. For it always brings God near.