In The Zone

Let’s talk color. Those of you who are detail oriented most likely noticed that my blog dawned new colors, around the start of the new. I hope that the changes make it easier to read. Bright background colors aren’t very reader-friendly. :) When I finally found the right menu and began to repaint my environment, I chuckled at the irony as the background turned its current (extremely friendly) shade of gray.

"What irony?" you ask.

Well, just as I wielded my paintbrush, the thought occurred, Here goes... living in the gray zone.

Spiritually speaking, the ground that we cover, as we walk through this life, comes in three colors: black, white, and gray.

Before coming to know Christ, our only choice of dwelling space is the black zone, the one that’s devoid of light. After all, Jesus is The Light (John 8:12); and in the absence of light, what else can there be but darkness? Dwelling in that space means moving by feel. Becoming too well acquainted with Pain. Groping instead of growing. More crawling than walking. More falling than finding. Fear saturates every inch of ground, and Hope and Freedom are nowhere to be found.

When we come to know Christ and accept Jesus as Savior, we are no longer trapped in the darkness. We get to move. The white zone opens to us, and we can dwell with Jesus. It is white because it’s filled with Light. When we accept Christ, The Holy Spirit indwells us (John 14:17), and we are drawn toward The Light. We are called to cling to Christ (John 15:5). Do you have a mental image of what "clinging" means? I will give you three.

*Branch to Vine. Separate from the vine branches have no life.

*Cloak to Back. This is the image I get from Jacob’s wrestling match (Genesis 32:23–28). When he refused to let go until The Angel of The Lord blessed him, Jacob (soon to be Israel) was clinging.

*Child to Leg. Ever walked across a room with a child sitting on your foot, while hugging your leg, and finding new pitches to giggle at? Whether he was waiting to be picked up or just wanted to be where you were, that child was clinging. Can you see yourself clinging to Jesus that way? What a picture!

We can cling to Jesus and dwell in the white zone, but often we don’t choose to. Nope. We no longer like or want utter darkness, but because we are constantly struggling against our old nature, gray is more comfortable than the brilliance of white. In the gray zone, there is enough light that we don’t have to grope, but not so much light that we need to squint. We don’t need a lantern, and we don’t need sunglasses. We like that gray zone. We like it a lot! We pitch our tents; build a raging fire; and set up the beach chair, with the drink-holder and the umbrella attached. We break out the marshmallows, roast hot dogs, and smile as we get sticky-fingered from the s’mores. All the while, we sit with our backs to the blackness; and sometimes, we start to mistakenly count ourselves superior, because we are no longer groping back there.

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When we first come indoors on a sunny day, it takes time for our eyes to adjust, but once they adjust what was relative darkness seems normal and acceptable. That is the risk of living in the gray zone. From our vantage point, we can see Jesus. We can hear Jesus. If we choose to walk the border between white and gray, we can even touch him. We convince ourselves that touching Him is enough. Who needs to cling? Sometimes, we even forget that we are allowed and called to cling. We get used to less, accept it as normal, and rob ourselves of blessings.

We like to walk those borders: white to gray, and gray to black. It’s like walking a tightrope.

I did again, on the first day of the new year. I know the frustration that Paul was feeling when he wrote Romans 7:18–24a:

For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am!

I was teetering on the boundary between gray and black. It wasn’t enough for me to stand with the toes of my sneakers right on the boundary line, where the ground starts to become dangerously slippery and downright unstable. Nope. I had to play tightrope walker (by exposing my heart to a known temptation). Then, stupidly, (thinking I had more control than I can ever possess, in my own strength) I had to push it even further. I tossed aside the pole that was helping me keep my balance, and I tried to walk that line by hopping on one foot (by letting said temptation linger far too long).

I don’t have to tell you what happened. You already know... I slipped and fell. Face-first. Pretty white sneakers and all. Into the familiar mud of repetitive sin. As I pushed myself to my feet and clumsily made my way back to the white zone, I found that I longed for a touch from Jesus.

As I reached Jesus, shock that I had no right to feel touched my voice; and I said, "I fell down."

Can’t you hear Him saying, "No?! Really?" I can see that eyebrow going up, as He shook His head and took my hand. And once again, He was faithful to do as only He can do, when we fall. He healed the hurt and cleaned off the mud (Psalm 103:12, Isaiah 1:18, 1John 1:9, Hebrews 8:12).

I find that my prayers need to change. "Lord, make me a better tightrope walker," just ain’t cuttin' it. "Lord, make all the ground as firm as the ground where you stand; so I can play wherever I want to, without getting hurt." That don’t work either. That’s like sayin’, "I wanna play in the ocean. Make it so I don’t get wet." Don’t get me wrong. He could do that, but that is not something I ought to ask of Him. I think that falls under the heading of putting God to foolish tests (Matthew 4:7).

Instead, these days, I’m praying along these lines: "Lord, help me not to rank my sin (James 2:10); and help me to hunger for light, more than I long to risk playing on crumbling, slippery ground."

May we all be eager to cling to Christ, like toddlers who cannot get enough. May we find no need for lanterns, but have a constant need for our sunglasses...