Saturday, August 27, 2011

sometimes it hurts instead

I would have never guessed that stepping out on that ledge would end up being so disappointing. Not because the Lord failed to show up – quite the contrary, actually. But because I had to learn the hard way that my hope was not in Him. I had put my hope in the very thing that had scared the crap out of me and because it wasn’t Jesus, it disappointed me.
I found those words written in my journal from over a year and a half ago. They later found their way to a blog post I had written on what I was studying at the time.

Funny - I found myself right back on a very familiar ledge this week.

There are certain lies that exist that convince me that I am at a disadvantage. That, for whatever reason, who I am, what I am, where I am - it's all fighting against what I want and hope for myself. Those enemies are keeping me on the ledge and preventing me from finding blissful abode, deep in the valleys and far from ledges. I become fixated on feeling like nothing is good and everything is bad. And unless A,B, and C get their act together, it will just always be that way and I just don't get to be someone that hopes those things for myself.

That gets pretty miserable.

If I believe that I am at a disadvantage - because I'm single, because I'm female, because I'm young(ish) - then I have to believe that I have already fulfilled my potential. This is the best that my life will ever be. [I have a great life, but come on.] And I'm just not buying that.

So how do I get from fixated on all of the awful, believing that I am at a disadvantage - to just not buying it? [I have no idea.]
My focus is in the wrong place. My affections are for the wrong things. My hopes are in the wrong things. My potential is tied up in things that have yet to come. And all of that will always, always, always disappoint me. And you know what happens when I am disappointed like that?

I flip out.

Things will get shaky [literally]. I won't have answers. I will feel loss. Things will be scary. They will get uncomfortable. But the whole reason that those words I remembered earlier hold such weight is because they helped me to learn this lesson once already. [I really annoy myself sometimes.]
Every thing's not lost. Every thing's not broken. There is beauty and life and hope and peace abundant. And joy that is just mine. It's a matter of where I'm looking for it. I have to turn off the TV, stop reading, stop listening to people who shouldn't be speaking.

I have been putting stock in failing markets. And in weeks like this one, where it seems as though the bottom falls out, I go through a painful and somewhat humiliating [humiliate: to cause a person a painful loss of pride] fall into a stressy pit of panic and fear [reference aforementioned "flip out"]. With maturity [and an insane amount of grace], it is less than it once was. However, sometimes the lies just get so loud and my "stock" has become so important to me that the fallout is bad. [it's not good when I don't have much to say.] For goodness sakes - more than once in the past five days I had to send out desperate flares for help.

Maybe if I keep talking about it [or rather, writing about it] it will get easier and I won't have to learn this lesson anymore. The fall out is seriously exhausting. I'm not asking for trial-free living. I'm not asking for a free ticket. I'm trying for confidence and faith and wisdom. I don't want to forget anymore where my hope should be and what my focus should be on. And then, when things get shaky, plans change, and the house is still dark and empty - my stock will be solid securities and there will not be a fall out at all.

Someone Like You, The Very Amazing Adele

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