like grape vines

I had this thought of grape vines the other day. I'd been in conversation with an old friend and I was amazed at how twisted our thinking had become. I thought of the design, and then of where we are in our thinking and how do you speak with someone who's framework is so off design that the words you speak have no frame of reference in their world?

There is a plan. There is a design. We were made to cleave, to grasp, to hold tight, but if we do that with the wrong things, we are hopeless and to be pitied.

I thought of my life, even from it's tender youth. What things did I hold to tightly? Independence, self-sufficiency, responsibility, "wisdom", and work ethic. Now I think all of these are good in their own right, but as a frame for growth? They turned me in on myself. I think there is a balance between assuming that you are someone else's responsibility to fix or satisfy, and assuming that you are self-sufficient. I have been slowly, tire-fully learning that balance.

Every once in a while I inherit a student from another studio or from another art form. These are (usually) a joy to work with but there is always oh-so-much unlearning to do. Gymnasts have to learn to move in fluid "verbs" not positional "nouns". Ice skaters have to learn to stand erect since there is no need to poise for movement on solid ground. The harder are ballet students trained at other studios. There are often habits or even underlying wrong assumptions about technique that have to be addressed and then untrained from the muscle memory. I feel like so much of our life as humans and specifically all of our life being sanctified is about this exact unlearning process. Sometimes it's gentle re-directing of the self, other times it feels more like a hatchet to the core of who you are. It's so easy to doubt the intention of the vine-dresser. "Is this for my good or am I being cut out?" It's easy to feel like the quick has been exposed and there is no way this part of you could ever heal...

Thank God that there is a design! Thank the Father that all the pain, and tearing, and plans and goals torn from grasping hands are all to a more beautiful end. To make us to grow up into Him who is our Head, even Christ Jesus our Lord. And I am fearful. I know that I have grown interwoven with so many wrong things. Things I take for granted as right. I like the plans I make. I know this is going to hurt. Still, I'd rather learn to grow into beauty than to grown further in on myself twisted into contorted forms. And, seeing as I have no other choice, here I am, exposed to the Vine-dresser's hands. Come shape me Aba.