Jenga

We bow our hearts, we bend our knees
Oh, Spirit, come make us humble.
We turn our eyes from evil things,
Oh, Lord, we cast down our idols.

Give us clean hands, give us pure hearts
Let us not lift our souls to another.
Give us clean hands, give us pure hearts
Let us not lift our souls to another.

Oh, God let us be a generation that seeks,
That seeks your face, Oh God of Jacob.

We sang this song during a worship service I went to last night and it's been on my mind ever since. I've always loved this song, but today it bears a new significance in my mind. Really the one line "we cast down our idols" is what my focus has been on.
I have been so convicted lately of the things that I put before the Lord on a daily basis. For a while I let my list of idols stack up and stack up until I had this massive pile of things that were starting to block my view of the Lord completely. He let this go on for a while, allowing me to pick things up and move them around, only to move them again a short while later; it was an ongoing balancing act between me and my stuff.
When the time was right, God came in and simply nudged my pile, sending the whole thing crashing to the ground, my concerns and secrets flying about every which way. What are you doing?! Do you know how hard it is for me to keep everything just where it's supposed to be?! I lashed out, furious at him for what he'd done, and began trying to scrounge everything back up thinking that it would take me forever to get everything put back in its place.
He lifted my chin so that I was facing him. Claire. Of course I know how hard you've worked to keep all this together. But don't you see you're wasting your time? You've missed the mark entirely on this one.
God was trying to explain to me that rather than continue this balancing act I had going on, all I needed to do was forget about all of it and let it fall where it may. I was so focused on my pile of idols that I was starting to lose sight of what was really important in my life.
So here we are, Jesus and I, sorting through this jumbled pile of things. He tells me which things stay and which things have to go. Sometimes I argue with him and clamp onto something, refusing to let him have it. He is patient, and reminds me of who I am and what I really need. Slowly, my grip loosens and I hand it over.
The pile has begun to dwindle, and sometimes this makes me extremely nervous. But it has also brought a sense of peace, for which I am grateful. My pile and I must become smaller, so that Jesus can become larger. That is my goal.