hard to relate

One of the girls I took to the jungle wrote to me about how she could relate to the piece I wrote called "I am a butterfly", she told me about when one afternoon as they walked across the jungle she had had the privelege of seeing these butteerflies. She describes the whole scene in beautiful manneer. I shared with my mom and my son. They weren´t half as enthusiastic as I ...mom said: "it is one of those things that unless you have actually been there, well it is just hard to relate"
I was in a conference on cancer a week ago. The woman had had breast cancer and was trying to awaken us into the need of checking ourselves in order to catch cancer on time. She was very honest, she struggled to make us feel her own pain so we would do whatever needed to avoid such pain. But I knew none of us could really relate.
I look back, at the time when I would talk about the jungle and the people needing the Word and God being in pain for them and...and...people couldn´t really relate.
Blank looks met my pleading eyes.
Now my eyes have been opened to what sin is really like, and my eyes have been opened to a just God.
I am deeply grieved as I see that people don´t relate to this either.
The woman in the cancer seminar spoke on how painful some of the treatments are. On how you somethimes are given chemicals that make your whole body burn...it feels so bad that you would do anything to leave your body.
I read my Bible. It becomes fire in my veins and in my own soul. The word burns so bad...fire. It is far from just understanding concepts, or making connections between the books in order to write preatty Bible studies.
The Word burns. It is more than just a phrase. You know how we adopt some phrases, which we don´t even fully understand. Phrases such as: "Lord, let it rain!" or "Bring your presence" The word burns, it is more than just a phrase.
I wail in deep agony as I read the word. I cannot say this out loud. I wish I could wail out loud, but my family is already worried for my mental state. They can´t relate.
They would love for me to go to the psycologist, they are not mean, they just don´t understand. They want "their Bea" back.
My little sister said: " I don´t like to see you like this (fragile), you are too great a woman to be in such a state. If you go to the psycologist you will be just fine in a couple of sessions."
I smile in the inside.
Can a psycologist undo that which God himself has done?
and I dare to add: something I myself prayed for?
They want "their Bea" back.
I don´t.
I asked for the change.
I want a heart that matches my words.
I want a heart that matches my actions.
I want a heart that honors God.
My brokeness comes from finding no such heart each time I sit and search.
If I had the right words, could you relate to the agony of standing before the God I dearly love...with an unworthy of HIM heart?
If I had the right words, could you relate to the fear that I now have to face His wrath again?
If I had the right words, could you relate to my agony at not being able to awaken my loved ones to the fact that God is HOLY and JUST?
If I had the right words, could you relate to the fear I have when I see people walking and moving without any fear of God´s wrath?
Could the psycologist take away the fire that burns within me when I see christians going to a bar on Thursday and then praise God at church on Sunday?
Could he relate to the fear of watching a missionary talk about his work on the field and later, in darkness abuse little children sexually?
Could he relate to my despair as I see pastors preaching on Sunday morning and then indulging in lust and pornography on Sunday afternoon?
Could he calm the pain, the agony, the fear, the despair, the FIRE, of seeing my own heart far, far from being the heart God expects to see in me?

I know I can stop all these without going to the psycologist. I can stop reading the Bible and let my heart grow hard again. I know it is possible. I know that option will always be opened.
But I faced God´s wrath once. I came out alive, I do not want to go through the same thing twice...I never want to face His wrath again. Not ever again.
So I will keep reading my Bible, keep feeling the pain, the fear, the agony, the FIRE. By going down this road one of two things will happen: I will either die or I will get the new heart I long for.
I speak of death as of phisical death. For this fire, is life taking. It is killing me. It doesn´t allow me to think right, so even routine stuff like paying a bill requieres a tremendous amount of strenght. A strength that I lack. For as each day goes by, I am weaker. It is crushing me, I can´t relate to people right. It is destroying me, It doesn´t let me sleep right.
I need a new heart.
I find no comfort. I have lost my strenght. My prayers are so different...no longer bold.
"Mercy, mercy, mercy Lord, I need a new heart" this is my constant prayer.

"Lord, I couldn´t make people aware of the need of reaching outside the church's walls? How am I supposed to make them aware of the fact that all those words we preach: a Holy God, the cross, sin, Justice...all of them are really real? Oh, Father what a heavy load you have asked me to carry...have mercy, mercy, mercy Lord! Give me a new heart!"