Because today I'm an abject failure, and I'm trying to be proud of it
I didn't actually (dare) publish this when I wrote it and annoyingly couldn't track the date I wrote it - defs sometime between June 22nd and June 29th 2016, but I don't know which of those days. I've guessed the 26th since Sundays are a good time to write blog posts...?
I can't answer a simple yes-no question.
On the first of January last year, a nice guy I knew asked me out.
Ever since, I have been stuck on this simple yes-no question: Should I go out with him?
I've made it incredibly complicated. I've made it about my career, and about my faith, and about my identity, about time and money and values and priorities and responsibility and resources. I've wrapped it in knots of every insecurity I've ever had, and created new insecurities - dozens of them - to wrap it around and around and around with. I've given myself an anxiety disorder. I've spent countless days crying on the couch. I've made up my mind and stuck with it several times, and not always the same way. I've made him feel bad for making my life harder. I've made him feel bad by pushing him away again and again. I've made him feel bad by testing him, hurt him deliberately to see if he would go away. I've wandered round my mind in circles and circles. Countless times I've given it all back to God. Countless times I've gone to sleep peaceful and woken up torn. Countless times I've made a decision I was sure of only to find myself doubting it a week later. Countless times I've wanted to scream and run away when he's kind to me, wanted to hit out at him and make him run from me so I don't have to deal with it anymore. Countless times I've told God I'm ready to give him up. Countless times I've known I want to spend my life with him. Countless times I've pushed him away from me for fear of hurting him, and countless times I've pulled him close to comfort me in a whirlpool of fears and emotions. Countless times I've pictured him close when the fears wouldn't go away, and countless times I've looked back longingly at the peace of the days before this all began when there were no fears to be dealt with.
And still it remains: I cannot answer a simple yes-no question.
God doesn't have much to say about this. Here's the main things I've heard from Him during that time:
I've known little hints from God that this is where He wants me, and ignored them because I know how deceitful the heart is. I've known big hints in the form of panic attacks that it's doing me no good, and ignored them because I know that something beautiful is worth the pain. I've waited and listened for an answer from God, I've searched my heart for an answer from myself. Neither is forthcoming. I can't answer a yes-no question, and God is not giving me the answer.
I've seen myself fall. Fall from confidence as I saw how suddenly I fell apart. Fall from self-respect as I see how resentful and vindictive I can be. Fall from grace as times spent with God become times of screaming, maddening silence, a constant reminder that He is offering no help for the situation I'm in now. Fall from joy as I feel the weight of pain that either decision would bring: the one, following the boy, to plunge me back into panic and fear, the other, putting him behind me, to plunge me instead into despair. Fall from faith as my prayers for simple peace, nothing more, they go unanswered again. Fall from hope as I see myself fall to pieces, feel the ripping through my brain when I cry that costs me my memory and my powers of reason and can dredge every last shred of energy and independence from me in an instant.
This week, finally, I thought I was close to the answer. Peace that I hadn't felt for many months. Confidence that finally I could make a decision, stick with it, that my brain would not let me down. Confidence that God was in my decision. Confidence that I knew what needed to be asked, what needed to be cleared up, and finally an incling that God had something to tell me, had a wee bit of direction for me, just enough light to guide me through this decision. Faith that on the other side lay yet more peace: either in the safe arms of a man who cares more for me than I deserve, who is prepared to walk with me through the days of searing destruction; or in the renewed independence of days gone by, strength to stand on my own two feet and to walk forwards towards something good. Either one sounds beautiful, either is where I long to be; out of this quagmire of doubt and living again, surviving no longer, drawing the very best out of every opportunity that comes my way.
And it fell apart, again.
I can't answer a simple yes-no question.
I feel ridiculous.
But for the first time, I can see my weakness. I can come before God asking for forgiveness and knowing that I truly need it. I can experience grace in His welcome of me. I can come broken to be fixed, not whole to feel slightly out of place.
For the first time, I have the opportunity to trust. To trust with a situation that I have no answer to, to trust in a place that is destroying me and that I have no way out of, to prove to myself that my faith is not merely a convenient social practice.
God has given over my strongholds. I've never been afraid of poverty, of physical pain, of deprivation, of personal cost. But these were strongholds: my confidence in my own ability to breeze through anything, to strategise and persist and bring down all the obstacles; my belief that my own independence was actually dependence on God; my identity as the one who helps, not the one who is helped; my determination to never give up my principles, no matter what the cost to myself, including the principle of never causing pain. These were strongholds that are falling; God has let me see my weakness and today my confidence is small.
And still God says, trust me. And I know that this time it is costly; that I have to give up control, knowing that it could all go horribly wrong, that I could end up living with forever-regret. That is no small risk, whether the regret is tying my life to someone who would leave me wanting or leaving behind someone who would complete me. It may be a choice that other people make easily every day, with certainty that outweighs all the obstacles to come, but it is a choice that for me is impossible today.
So I say God, help me to trust. In the middle of it all, help me to trust.
When I don't know where You're pointing me, help me to trust.
When the moment is Now and the decision must be made, help me to trust.
When the decision has been made and the doubts rise, help me to trust.
To trust that You are all-in-all. To trust that no day with You is a day wasted. To trust that no mistake is one that You cannot redeem. To trust that You want the very best for me. To trust that You will give me the ability to choose well. To trust that the best place to be is right where You are. To trust that You will make good of it.
And if everything goes as wrong as it possibly could, to join with Habbakkuk in praising You in the Even Ifs.
'
'Though the fig tree should not blossom
And there be no fruit on the vines,
Though the yield of the olive should fail
And the fields produce no food,
Though the flock should be cut off from the fold
And there be no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will exult in the LORD,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The Lord GOD is my strength,
And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet,
And makes me walk on my high places.'
I'm not there yet. But at least now I have the chance to get there; the opportunity to actually, really trust when there's nothing left in me to sort this one out.
I can't answer a simple yes-no question.
On the first of January last year, a nice guy I knew asked me out.
Ever since, I have been stuck on this simple yes-no question: Should I go out with him?
I've made it incredibly complicated. I've made it about my career, and about my faith, and about my identity, about time and money and values and priorities and responsibility and resources. I've wrapped it in knots of every insecurity I've ever had, and created new insecurities - dozens of them - to wrap it around and around and around with. I've given myself an anxiety disorder. I've spent countless days crying on the couch. I've made up my mind and stuck with it several times, and not always the same way. I've made him feel bad for making my life harder. I've made him feel bad by pushing him away again and again. I've made him feel bad by testing him, hurt him deliberately to see if he would go away. I've wandered round my mind in circles and circles. Countless times I've given it all back to God. Countless times I've gone to sleep peaceful and woken up torn. Countless times I've made a decision I was sure of only to find myself doubting it a week later. Countless times I've wanted to scream and run away when he's kind to me, wanted to hit out at him and make him run from me so I don't have to deal with it anymore. Countless times I've told God I'm ready to give him up. Countless times I've known I want to spend my life with him. Countless times I've pushed him away from me for fear of hurting him, and countless times I've pulled him close to comfort me in a whirlpool of fears and emotions. Countless times I've pictured him close when the fears wouldn't go away, and countless times I've looked back longingly at the peace of the days before this all began when there were no fears to be dealt with.
And still it remains: I cannot answer a simple yes-no question.
God doesn't have much to say about this. Here's the main things I've heard from Him during that time:
- He trusts my decisions. (So would I, if I could make one.)
- He wants me to trust Him. (So I would, if I could make myself.)
I've known little hints from God that this is where He wants me, and ignored them because I know how deceitful the heart is. I've known big hints in the form of panic attacks that it's doing me no good, and ignored them because I know that something beautiful is worth the pain. I've waited and listened for an answer from God, I've searched my heart for an answer from myself. Neither is forthcoming. I can't answer a yes-no question, and God is not giving me the answer.
I've seen myself fall. Fall from confidence as I saw how suddenly I fell apart. Fall from self-respect as I see how resentful and vindictive I can be. Fall from grace as times spent with God become times of screaming, maddening silence, a constant reminder that He is offering no help for the situation I'm in now. Fall from joy as I feel the weight of pain that either decision would bring: the one, following the boy, to plunge me back into panic and fear, the other, putting him behind me, to plunge me instead into despair. Fall from faith as my prayers for simple peace, nothing more, they go unanswered again. Fall from hope as I see myself fall to pieces, feel the ripping through my brain when I cry that costs me my memory and my powers of reason and can dredge every last shred of energy and independence from me in an instant.
This week, finally, I thought I was close to the answer. Peace that I hadn't felt for many months. Confidence that finally I could make a decision, stick with it, that my brain would not let me down. Confidence that God was in my decision. Confidence that I knew what needed to be asked, what needed to be cleared up, and finally an incling that God had something to tell me, had a wee bit of direction for me, just enough light to guide me through this decision. Faith that on the other side lay yet more peace: either in the safe arms of a man who cares more for me than I deserve, who is prepared to walk with me through the days of searing destruction; or in the renewed independence of days gone by, strength to stand on my own two feet and to walk forwards towards something good. Either one sounds beautiful, either is where I long to be; out of this quagmire of doubt and living again, surviving no longer, drawing the very best out of every opportunity that comes my way.
And it fell apart, again.
I can't answer a simple yes-no question.
I feel ridiculous.
But for the first time, I can see my weakness. I can come before God asking for forgiveness and knowing that I truly need it. I can experience grace in His welcome of me. I can come broken to be fixed, not whole to feel slightly out of place.
For the first time, I have the opportunity to trust. To trust with a situation that I have no answer to, to trust in a place that is destroying me and that I have no way out of, to prove to myself that my faith is not merely a convenient social practice.
God has given over my strongholds. I've never been afraid of poverty, of physical pain, of deprivation, of personal cost. But these were strongholds: my confidence in my own ability to breeze through anything, to strategise and persist and bring down all the obstacles; my belief that my own independence was actually dependence on God; my identity as the one who helps, not the one who is helped; my determination to never give up my principles, no matter what the cost to myself, including the principle of never causing pain. These were strongholds that are falling; God has let me see my weakness and today my confidence is small.
And still God says, trust me. And I know that this time it is costly; that I have to give up control, knowing that it could all go horribly wrong, that I could end up living with forever-regret. That is no small risk, whether the regret is tying my life to someone who would leave me wanting or leaving behind someone who would complete me. It may be a choice that other people make easily every day, with certainty that outweighs all the obstacles to come, but it is a choice that for me is impossible today.
So I say God, help me to trust. In the middle of it all, help me to trust.
When I don't know where You're pointing me, help me to trust.
When the moment is Now and the decision must be made, help me to trust.
When the decision has been made and the doubts rise, help me to trust.
To trust that You are all-in-all. To trust that no day with You is a day wasted. To trust that no mistake is one that You cannot redeem. To trust that You want the very best for me. To trust that You will give me the ability to choose well. To trust that the best place to be is right where You are. To trust that You will make good of it.
And if everything goes as wrong as it possibly could, to join with Habbakkuk in praising You in the Even Ifs.
'
'Though the fig tree should not blossom
And there be no fruit on the vines,
Though the yield of the olive should fail
And the fields produce no food,
Though the flock should be cut off from the fold
And there be no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will exult in the LORD,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The Lord GOD is my strength,
And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet,
And makes me walk on my high places.'
I'm not there yet. But at least now I have the chance to get there; the opportunity to actually, really trust when there's nothing left in me to sort this one out.
Comments
Post a Comment