Gifts behind the thin veil of grace

Friend,

I'm not sure if you really want me to use all my gifts. In fact. I think I'd rather not. Because some times, honesty implores silence when truth cries out for noise. Discernment may well reveal details that are not Grace when when brought to the light, at least not now, and not for a long long time.

You want me to practice my gifts? Can we agree, perhaps, we don't want that?

Recognize, for a moment, that discernment can be destructive. I don't have to look at our friends. I can look at others, if you'd like. That might take away the fear factor. That if practicing my gift involves asking another that I love, the conversation might find its depth with "at what age did the abuse start, and was it always physical and emotional? Did the abuse turn sexual, or did that come from somewhere else, entirely?" That's an arrow neither of us thinks is wise to unsheathe. Or to another I could simply state "Have you ever considered why you are so hung up on generational sin? I know why my father was so hung up on the idea of generational sin and and 'unto the third and fourth generation' It was because he'd never gotten over his own generational shame and it was easier to focus on someone else's sin than his shame.'" Because I see these things. Or I think I do. Rightly or wrongly. A gift from God? Or a curse of the investigative mind?

Recognize, also, that Mercy can be equally exhausting. That other person. What of them? How will what I do or say or don't do or don't say affect them, and what will the lasting effects be? (yes, that was grammar flex, but at my age, you've got to flex where you can, as the youth say) Mine to consider? Mine to take on? A large part of the gift of mercy is to see life from the perspective of the other. And sometimes that feels like no gift, either. Because mercy can encourage others to stay in the midst of their pain and their prisons. It can help to cement their habits, instead of breaking them free from bonds that hold them. If I simply practiced mercy and never looked back at it's after effects, it would be easy. But it would also be naive. At the end of the day, sometimes I wonder if mercy may be the most dangerous gift?

The prophetic gift, as we've spoken it to one another is today misunderstood. But the high calling of speaking on behalf of the God of the Galaxies into the lives of those he loves cannot be taken lightly. Sometimes I simplify it as pointing which way to go Do you think it's a surprise, friend, why I know you for a prophet? Ah, yes. It takes one to know one. But for so long, I thought the role of a prophet was to stand on top of the mountain and to lob holy truths down at the people below. It's easy to see the direction from above. If you can look at a car while it's moving on Google maps, routing is easy. But these days, I find myself down in the mud in the midst of the people I love and those I don't yet know enough to love. And direction is much more difficult. And so, for me, it's rarely an answer I give.

And even the gift of encouragement can be deadly. Because encouragement is intended to lift up and set free. To nurture and to bring along. To bring Grace and Life and Peace into the midst of struggle and strain. And sometimes, it is anything but that. Sometimes, encouragement can be heard as another check list. It can be seen as another failure. It can be perceived as weakness. It can be refused as untrue. And then, instead of encouragement, it is, instead, quite the opposite. It is discouragement, at its best, and destruction, at its worst. So instead of reaching out to encourage immediately, I often stop and consider. Right or wrong.

I know you want me to use my gifts. Be aware. I am. But I'm trying to practice them all together. And that takes time. And it's exhausting. And you might not see much movement. And you might not even believe me. But these days, love holds me back much more than it sends me forward. Because most of the time, what I'm finding is that it is, in fact, the thin veil of Grace that holds my gifts back, so that I use them, not because of my need, but because of yours. The thin veil of Grace constrains me not to build up my self, but to build up both you and the kingdom of which you are a part. And it is, then, because of the thin veil of Grace, that I find myself somehow standing apart. That's where I'm at in God's story. Even if we're at different places, I'm OK with that. Are you?

thus spake

me.