I played hooky today. Or is it hookie? ....Hookiey?
Anyway, I'm not at school. And it's nice. I need to slow down, and ironically I have the time to, I just choose not to. When I slow down, I recognize the things I'm trying to handle myself, my emotions shrink from the ugly green gremlins I allow them to become, I actually rest in the Lord instead of worrying like the mother of a sixteen year old, which has been the essence of myself this month. It's pretty annoying.
Worry implies that we don't quite trust that God is big enough, or powerful enough, or loving engouh to take care of what's happening in our lives. Stress says that the things we are involved in are important enough to merit our impatience, our lack of grace towards others, or our tight grip of control.
Ouch. You know they're probably right when you feel the sting on your cheek like you've been slapped.
That's me right there. I can say what I want and be as "Christian" as I can, but in the end the way I've been living has been screaming, "I DON'T TRUST YOU OR BELIEVE YOU CARE. LEAVE ME ALONE, I'LL TAKE CARE OF MYSELF!!" It reeks of self-sufficiency, or at least an attempt for. Yuck.
I've had umpteen conversations with people I love lately, spilling my guts again and again, and the catharsis or answers are never there. In fact, I tend to end up more irritated than before. When I sat there with a dear friend this weekend talking through my woes again, I came to the realization of why these friendships, which are supposed to be so rich and comforting, haven't been so. Because I'm not depending on the Lord to handle it, which in turn strips the people I care about of their freedom. I strangle them with expectations and dependency, and they end up just as drained as I am.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. Man, I need the Lord.
Oh, but the cycle continues. I don't know about you, but the more I see my ugliness of my flesh, the more insecure I become. I hear myself saying, "Man Em, you messed up again, are you ever gonna get it right? If you were more like _____ then this wouldn't happen. If you hadn't have done _______, this wouldn't be an issue." It debilitates me to the point of hopelessness.
But then I'm reminded of grace.
Oh yeah, I did screw up again, but He loves me the same regardless. Nothing's changed from His side. He brushes off my backside, pats me on the butt, and says, "let's try again".
I'm rereading So Long Insecurity by Beth Moore (or as I fondly call her, Bethie), and there is a lot of truth resurfacing, and I feel all too ready for it. In the coming weeks, I'm sure you'll get some tastes of what that is. But for now, I'm going to head back to school.
Here's to Grace, and knowing He's big enough, powerful enough, and loving enough, to handle a mess like me.