I worry about having a satisfying and stable career. (Yet I do quite nothing to get myself to where I want to be. I quickly become overwhelmed by every possible hindrance.)
I think about what I can do to better myself, be more content. (Yet I seem to have little consistency in maintaining my good changes.)
I think about marriage and having children. (But it is so hard to find a decent man who puts God first and has a job.)
I pray for strength and healing in specific areas of my life. (I try and try and sometimes when I get it I feel proud, which points to my leaning on my own strength, which is meager.)
I think about my discomforts, and the possibility of having more discomforts (lack of money, getting older, losing loved ones, getting sick, failing).
I think about my past.
I think about my future.
I think about my present circumstances. All the good and the bad, but mostly the bad.
I feel sorry for myself.
I criticize myself.
I have moments of being truly thankful for my life.
I think about what my pursuit is...what am I living for?
And peeling all those thoughts aside, layer by layer...
I find at the core of myself, is a small child crouching in the corner, terrified and lacking faith and clarity, utterly naked with a heart of distrust and skepticism.
--
Who is that feral looking child? How did she get there? Where did she come from? What is it that makes her so frightened as to cry and shiver in a small corner? What happened to her to make her this way?
I see photos in the room where she is. I see she had loving parents and a sweet brother. I see she traveled extensively and got to see things most people only ever get to see on the television. I read some of her writings and they are incredibly convicting and beautifully conclusive. She has many photographs that show she was happy, beautiful, loved. There are stacks of notes, books she's read, her college degree, certificates, gifts from others, and so many precious trinkets that imply a lovely life, yet she is there crouching in the corner. Afraid. Scowling. She's looking at me with black eyes, swimming with repulsion.
I am Perspective.
I am seeing everything, including her, and she does not seem to like that. However, her attention to me quickly fades, and she goes back to crying. I see her, and I see all that made up her life. It doesn't make much sense at first, looking at all the things that she had, but the reality is what I see: a terrified and confused little girl crouching in the corner. This is what happened, and it can be strongly evidenced that all those "good" things in the room did nothing to make this child better. Or that there possibly something else, some factor not visible at the scene. But that child is me, and only I know if there is something hidden, and there is not. There is no background of abuse, no mental disorder, no handicap, there is just me.
And Perspective shows the darkness deep within myself. That despite having been loved, beautiful, well traveled, educated, and admired, I am but a shivering feral child. What can be done to help myself, my true self that is there behind so many veils?
First, I can ask the logical question:
1. Why am I scared, or what am I afraid of?
I am afraid of so much. Fear upon fear upon fear, until it is a mountain on top of me. I vaguely remember of One who gives the power to move mountains.
So much so that it feels like an innate part of my psyche: fear.
If indeed it is innate to myself then the only way to squash it would be to kill the girl altogether. Now if I do not believe in the power of God to resurrect, then that would be an incredulous, heinous suggestion. A murderous, evil idea. How else can one change that which is natural to them? Practice? Mental training? Perhaps, but ultimately death and resurrection will bring about the purest swipe and new life.
So then I see that sin in me fights to stay alive. Sin is the little girl crouching in the corner, fearful of what I will do to her, and rightly so. But my own hands quake tremendously. How can I kill her? How can I kill myself? Will I really resurrect? What if that is the end? Is it then better to live like so, frightened beyond mobility and filled with a black darkness? No, indeed not. I do not want to live in fear. I want to set all my worth on the hope and belief that if I die to myself, God will resurrect me in Spirit.
Life in the Spirit is very different than life in captivity to fear. It's vibrant yet peaceful. Busy yet rewarding. A war fought with greater confidence.
First thing is to die, again. And that's where I'm stuck.
How do you kill that part of yourself that just gets so annoyed and bothered to the point where you almost lose it? The other day I walked to Starbucks and ordered an iced soy latte. Halfway back to my house I took a sip, and to my annoyance it was a regular latte. I couldn't even drink it (unless I wouldn't mind being gassy all day!) I was too tired to turn around and walk all the way back, and so I just went home. The entire way back I kept telling myself that it was ok, it was just a simple mistake that cost me money and time...and I just really wanted a soy latte at that moment! I didn't get what I wanted, and the war began in my head. The part of me that is all about my rights and my way, was thwarted, ridiculed, looked down on, and this infuriated me. I was shocked at myself, at how much something so small could bother me so much! I remember thinking that I so desperately want to be someone who isn't like that, but rather be one who can give up oneself and not be bothered by anything save lost souls. Is that possible?
For others their annoyance may arise when someone cuts them off on the road, a prime example being my brother. I never understood how he could become that infuriated with something so very possibly accidental, but I am seeing now that at the core of both incidents it is a matter of what we see as something not going the way we wanted it to go. Our rights as a person were tossed into nonchalance by another, and that is infuriating because we are all about being right. Others cannot tolerate those that chew with their mouth open because the sound is annoying and their rights to. Hearing what they want to hear are tossed aside. It could be anything! For me it was being given a regular lactose latte when I so craved a refreshing and drinkable soy one! However, such is life. Things happen, people make mistakes, I make mistakes, but living in the Spirit is a daily dying in order to set our rights aside for the greater right which is in Christ being the judge and avenger. It sets anger aside and propels us to do the will of God regardless of circumstances. It gives us a more peaceful life to not be one who can be bothered by injustices done to us, since many such "injustices" will occur and we may begin to question God's judgment. However, trusting in God so much, in His love for us to give us not just good, but best rather than bad or decent brings us into real relationship with God not our idea of god. But laying down my rights is scary. It is being Job who lost family members, home, health, possessions, and even reputation among his friends yet he never changed his view on who God is. It is being Abraham (or Isaac) who did what looked terrible, yet stood firm in their view of God. God as God, undeniable, unquestionable, immovable, JUST, and just God, our Master.
Everyone in scripture who stood firm in their perspective of who God is, even and especially when it made more sense to doubt God, those that remained steadfast were always blessed in the end. They were angry, they were sad, they had all the emotions one would expect to have given their poor circumstances, but their core remained firm in that they knew God was God and they could not refute that. When you cannot refute someone it is a genuine understanding that you believe them to be right.
So how does one begin to know that God is right with an irrefutable understanding? Only by faith.
Why then does God ask us to have faith if it is such a difficult thing? Why can't we just see and believe?
Because we don't know ourselves as God does.
The Israelites saw a freaking ocean split, they saw a giant pillar of fire guide them, they saw bread fall from the sky, they saw 10 plagues fall on the Egyptians, yet did they have faith in the desert? Out of millions only 2 were able to enter into the promise land because only 2 had faith.
So seeing would do very little in helping us to have faith.
Then why doesn't God just give us faith, let us be robots who just have faith. Then we would not have relationship with Him. The whole of our existence is that we get to know and love and be loved by God. Anyone having ever been in any relationship knows that love is not love unless it is a choice.
Where am I going with all this now? Haha I'm shooting in all sorts of tangential directions.
Back to the little scared girl.
I find that in a moment of trouble, when I stand at that fork in the road that leads to doing it God's way or having it my way, I am utterly quaking with fear. However I detect that it is not impossible to choose Gods way, even if it means the death of me, since God can resurrect. So then, I am weak. I am afraid. I am looking at what I see rather than having faith (believing what I do not see, seeing irrefutable God).
Hmmm...
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