Where do I begin? I am so smart. I didn’t realize I have been such a fool. If you asked me last year, where my relationship was with God, I would have said that life isn’t perfect, but I’m increasingly growing. It’s the end of 2020, and I wonder if I ever was as close to God as I portrayed myself to being. There is so much hidden. Many thoughts, feelings, fears, insecurities. I will cry when crisis occurs, but I’ll make sure to not let anyone see. Except for God. I know He sees everything, anyway. But somewhere, going about this Jesus thing, I forgot that it’s about Jesus. Publicly, I have shown a spiritual strength, but I dare not admit the things that plague my subconscious. I made my faith and ministry about me, and would any of you know? I played it well, too. Always active in church; arriving early, even. First one to volunteer. Avid reader of the Word...never miss a day. I can talk in depth about spiritual matters and have the ability to teach others what it means to be a Christian. I wonder how many of you think I have it all together. Far from the truth. I know what’s right, yet, there is a part of me that still does wrong. When my strength is waning, I am prone to vegetate, because I just want to escape my pain. I can tell teenagers as much as I want, “Don’t do drugs! Alcohol is not the answer!” Yet, here I am at home, finding my own fix. Draining my brain watching mindless things, rather than giving my burdens to God. What makes me different from them? The eager volunteer. Maybe the first or second to sign up. In part, I do care about the people I have served. However, if a person’s response is to not take hold of the wisdom I share, or my name is not mentioned when thanks is being given, I am crushed. I’ll pour in as long as I see that I have use in another’s life. When I don’t receive the accolades, I am tempted to sign the individual off (or whine about what I am doing wrong). This year, my heart has been burned. The fires that have touched the closest have burned the masks I have worn . God only knows for how long. Perpetuating a sense of godliness, but in the shadows I wallow the same as any other. This isn’t to say that Christians aren’t supposed to struggle or suffer. The Bible promises we will have trials. Nevertheless, my pride...my stupid pride prevents me from becoming truly vulnerable, asking for help, and admitting my faults. Or...as my extroverted self plainly reminds me - I will ask a few people for help, but fail to trust God through it all. I want support in my life, but I fail to surrender. I want the hand of my friends, and buffer my own might to get myself through. Done it my whole life. But I’m coming to a point, I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to do it anymore. I am tired of portraying a sense of strength. Easily pointing out what can be wrong in my neighbor’s life, but failing to fully address the planks in my own eyes. I have realized that I am no different from those I walk with every day. I tried to be good. Perfect, in fact. Never reached that point, however. I convinced myself that my actions prove my loyalty to Jesus, but my motives are only “just”, as long as I am recognized. I am not recognized. I am not good. An air of holiness, covered with a stench of my own sin. I am selfish. Feeding my ego, fighting a life-long battle against fears of worthlessness. The irony of self-esteem is that I esteem myself. I don’t think it’s wrong to remind people that God indeed loves and cares for us. However, I am finding that if my substance is based on how I feel about myself, I am still worshipping myself. I have worshipped myself. Sure, I have sung songs in church and raised my hand. However, throughout the week, my needs and desires must be met. And I have found ways to do that. I can hide it, too. Because in the normative culture, we wouldn’t consider it destructive. Nevertheless, somewhere in my walk with God, I have forgotten Him. Kissing His feet, but still holding hands with other lovers. All in an effort to make myself feel good. But I’m not always given what I want. So, I don’t always feel good. I can’t tell you where this shift began. I remember being excited about God, Himself. I wanted my community to know about Jesus, and I took advantage of the hidden hours and rooms to chase after Him and His heart. Yet, 2020 has plainly revealed the beast I have kept hidden. The more I have walked with God, the more He reveals the ugly things that have always been in my heart. A child doesn’t have to be taught to be selfish. A child doesn’t have to be taught how to shift blame upon another person, to dissuade from acknowledging their own wrong. A child doesn’t have to be taught to seek their own. I have sought for my own. It’s out in the open. I no longer can hide it. I made my faith about me. My faith was in me. Sure, Jesus is my Savior. What the heck does that even mean? When storms come, I wrestle to hold onto my nets, and cry in anger when they are taken away. I suddenly believe that I am alone, and I am broken because I don’t have anything to cling onto. All the while, God is wanting me to cling solely to Him. I cannot lie to myself, anymore. I’m done playing a façade of spiritual strength, when in truth, there are parts of me that crumble at the seams. My intellect is not a match for the reality of my heart, and even in this moment, I wonder where my soul may lay. I am broken over the fact that I believed I walked in the authority of a King without allowing Him to be Lord of every part of my life.
I’m so sorry, God. I’m so sorry. I never thought I was prone to wander, but now I clearly see it! And it hurts me so! How did I make You about me, when I was created to glorify You? How did I excuse my wrong, thinking that the means justified the ends? What do I really believe? I fear the answer may not be what I have professed. And yet, God, do not let this state be my end. I recognize belief systems that do not align according to Your words, and I need help figuring it all out. I need to know what I do that is done by habit, and I need it broken. I admit that I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough.
Boy, there is so much freedom in saying that. All my life, I wanted to make sure I was strong enough. I never wanted to be weak. But that’s what I am. I can’t do it, God. Not anymore. I’m through with hiding the secret things, trying to handle them myself. I’m done trying to patch up my own wounds. I’m done running away from my fears and trying to manage my life. I’ve done one heck of a job, haven’t I? If I could make myself whole, I would have already done it. But I can’t. So here I am.
I’m done making my life be about me. I’m done turning Your words into a mere moral compass. Be my North Star. I admit...I wish for a purpose. Doesn’t anyone? But I am finding that when I glorify myself, I become separated from Your presence. Frankly, I act with immediate instinct, but when I pause long enough, I know I don’t want to be separated from You. Not now, and certainly not ever. Bring me back to You. In the words of Maroon 5 (and I laugh to myself, as I write this), “Maybe it’s 6:45. Maybe, I’m barely alive...Maybe, I know that You are the one. Maybe, I think it’s time for You to drive.”
Yeah. That’s it.
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