Can't go back to the beginning Can't control what tomorrow will bring But I know here in the middle Is the place where You promise to be
It’s been an age and a half since I’ve written, not because I didn’t want to or even because I didn’t have anything to say. I think I felt I was in a place where I was not to say anything, I had too much to say and no idea how to actually articulate it. I feared what I was going through, the inevitable low season, the rude awaking that Life after salvation (or in general) isn’t a constant up. There are bumps, hard climbs, harder and quicker falls, and there’s flat seasons. But when I fall, or the same struggle comes up, there’s a thousand voices screaming at me. Each time I think I’m over something, I’m not. Each time I think I’m in a good spot, I fall. And every time I think I can take care of it on my own, I can’t.
whether it’s true or not I too often believe that there’s a certain amount of time you can cry over something. A certain number of times you can wrestle with the same thing. And each time I think or talk about it I feel like a broken record. Like I’ve already talked with people about this enough and they don’t deserve to have to hear it again. However, you know what does change every time I struggle with something, how I grow and what I learn from it.
Ever since coming off the summer I’ve felt like I’ve been in a funk and having a time getting out of it. A lot of it could be contributed to the total exhaustion that comes from the summer, but I also think Satan likes to kick us when we’re down, (or we kick ourselves and all he has to do is give the slightest nudge for us to go rolling down the proverbial hill of identity). Someone also spoke some wisdom to me the other day and said, in so many words,
“It could just be life Jen, don’t over spiritualize or Christianize (that’s a word because I just made it up), it’s just life."
Some seasons are not glamorous, or seemingly purposeful, or don’t feel as rich as the last one. And this new season has left me feeling somewhat, well… insecure. Insecurity, the thing we all have, but a topic none of us really like to talk about. It’s too real. It’s too close to home. It’s not exciting. It’s real life. It’s not enchanting. It’s boring and repetitive. It’s too vulnerable, too imperfect. Even when we do talk about it, we speak about it as a thing of the past, distancing ourselves from that ugly word as if to hope it will never come up again.
There’s so much shame and guilt that goes into our thought process every day that it’s no wonder we struggle to be honest about the real us. It’s scary and uncomfortable so it must be a turn off for other people too. I know that confident people are more attractive, more engaging, and, in general, more fun to be around, at least that’s what people tell me. So, I can easily put unrequired pressure on myself to wear a fake confidence, pretend I don’t care, I’m not scared, or I’m completely accepting of myself.
But the reality is, you can’t be 100% confident all the time, it’s just not attainable. And I don’t think God calls us or even expects us to be.
Confidence is a weird concept, especially for Christians. There’s something oddly reassuring and captivating of a person who lives honestly. But not just honestly, also confidently, and it’s not a confidence in or of themselves. The only way I know how to describe it is “humble confidence”, which sounds pretty much contradictory to each other. There’s a handful of people I’m blessed to know who live this out in their everyday life. Yet, I also know they aren’t perfect, and they don’t always respond or carry themselves in this way. In other words, they aren’t perfect (gasp!), and that’s ok, because I know their character, I’ve seen a steady “humble confidence” displayed consistently in their life in the midst of the downs and struggles.
If I know this about the people I most admire and want to imitate, why do I hold myself to a completely different and unreachable standard. why do you hold yourself to the same unrealistic standard? One of certain perfection, of always giving my all at work, always serving with the right heart, always being the joyful, fun one in the room, of always being kind, of always being intentional with relationships, of always wanting to be with God, of always succeeding. All these things and more I expect of myself, 100% of the time, even with the for knowledge that it’s never worked before.
But what if there is purpose in the repetition. Healing in the same, mundane, ugly struggle.
There’re so many moments, like today, when I’m overwhelmed with how selfish, insecure, and prideful I am, appalled at the thoughts that run through my head. And in those moments, I can here myself saying, “I can’t believe you’re here again.” “You’ll never be enough, you’ll never amount to anything, you’re pathetic.” I listen, much more often than I would like to admit, to the Bold-faced lies about my worth, my life, my body, my relationships, my work. And something in me feels like a disappointed mother looking at her child.
Disappointment, now that’s something I do no handle well, never have. As a kid, I could take the spankings, the time out, the talk when dad got home, the angry face. But as soon as my parents looked at me and said, “we’re disappointed in you.” I melted. Practically lost it. Repented of everything and said I was sorry a million times. I tell myself I’m disappointed too. But much too often and rarely is it for the right reason. I tell myself I’m disappointed for being human…basically.
I always end up struggling with the same thing, and because of that, I’m always back on my knees before the same God.
I was recently on a women’s retreat all about rest and well, I suck at it. But the speaker highlighted her struggle with being quiet before God, her fears of not hearing anything, not being able to block out the distractions, or being too dumb to understand what God is trying to say to her, or that all her sins and shortcomings would be exposed and God would want to have a “little chat” about that mess. And I thought
“ya that basically sums it up."
I came upon Psalm 55 a couple of days ago and in the whole day of rest I was given at the retreat, I finally allowed myself to quiet my mind (somewhat) and simply listen. I ended up reading the whole Psalm because David was expressing what I’ve been feeling for a couple of months now, feelings that appear to me as overly dramatic and unnecessary yet they’re there all the same.
"Give ear to my prayer, O God, and hide not yourself from my plea for mercy! Attend to me, and answer me; I am restless in my complaint and I moan, because of the noise of the enemy, because of the oppression of the wicked. For they drop trouble upon me, and in anger they bear a grudge against me.
My heart is in anguish within me; the terrors of death have fallen upon me. Fear and trembling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me. And I say, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest; yes, I would wander far away; I would lodge in the wilderness;
Selah
I don’t pay attention to Selah’s very often, in scripture and in life. I’m scared to.
(Psalm 55:1-7)
David was a king, he was attractive, wealthy, had power, he could pursue whatever he pleased, he was a man of God. Yet here he is…again, crying out to the Lord, the only one that wholly understands and carries him through this...again. Notice that, this isn’t David’s first Psalm guys! Also notice that the vast majority of these Psalms are cries to God, which means David didn’t have his act together more than once. Now this may not be news to you but realizing the king of Israel had his fair share of breakdowns is comforting in odd sort of way.
“I would hurry to find a shelter from the raging wind and tempest.”
(Psalm 55:8)
I’m hesitant to hurry and sit before God and just be, I’m afraid that my fear’s will be true. That I may not be good enough, humble enough, or holy enough for Him to speak to me. That I’ll be too distracted (again) by a million other thoughts competing for space in my mind. I’m anxious I’m not even smart enough to hear what He’s trying to tell me. Or, my favorite, my secret, precious sins and struggles will be laid prostrate before God, and He’ll look at me disappointed…again.
And I’ll look back, dejected because no matter how many times I try, how many new devotions I do, how many promises I make to myself, how many goals I set, I always end up back where we started… or so it would seem. And I look into His disappointed eyes, and mumble “sorry to have wasted your time, it’s no good, it will only happen again, I’ve tried everything.” That’s how my “quiet time” with God plays out in my head. No wonder I’m skittish.
"But I call to God, and the Lord will save me. Evening and morning and at noon I utter my complaint and moan, and he hears my voice. He redeems my soul in safety from the battle that I wage, for many are arrayed against me."
(Psalm 55:17-18)
But what if there is purpose in the repetition. Healing in the same, mundane, ugly struggle. There’s something else I’ve come to recently realize in this little cycle of mine. I always end up struggling with the same thing, and because of that, I’m always back on my knees before the same God.
And, unlike the fearful scene that plays out before me in my brain, not once has He bashed me over the head, or yelled at me in disappointment for being back, in fact, He seems to welcome it. The pride, the stubbornness, the insecurity, the anxiousness, the pain, the failure, He welcomes it all back into His arms and He whispers
"we’ll work on this together. I know you’ve tried, and here you are…again, welcome back.”
“Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you.”
(Psalm 55:22)
I guess what I’m relearning is that when God calls us to rest in Him, it’s not a trap so He can yell at us about our most recent sins, or scold us for our track record, or even show us our tally marks of how many times we’ve struggled with the same baggage. It’s an invitation to know in the deepest part of us that there’s no shame in being here…again, because being here…again (as maddening as it is) only reminds me I need Him…again, and that’s the beautiful, messy, cycle of Grace.
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