Wednesday, May 09, 2007

The Breaking Point

I have a confession to make. It may not seem like a big deal once you really find out what it is, but to me, it's absolutely monumental. You see, I don't know about you, but I spend a lot of time adjusting how people think about me. Perhaps one person is too close, so I pull away just a little bit, or maybe I want them to pull away, so I'll adjust my behaviour. Or maybe I notice that I said something really awkward the last time I was with a group of people, so this time I'll keep my mouth shut, and laugh at all the right times, so they think better of me.

You see, I live a lie. I really wish it wasn't this way, and I have a feeling I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to correct it. I can put all the Jesus mumbo jumbo on it I want to try to justify it or cover it up, but the reality of the situation is that I'm not good enough. I'm deprived, I'm sick, and whether God sees me as perfect or not, I still struggle with the fact that I'm not.

The past month or so has been spent praying. Praying about what is going on, praying for answers, praying for relief, praying for this, or that. Honestly, if you listened to my prayers, you'd think that God was a supermarket, and everything was on sale. "Moaning Young Adult on Isle 3, Cleanup on Isle 3 please!" Supermarkets are great. You go in, you take your cart, you browse a little, take a guilty pleasure stroll down the candy isle, and you leave your money and take everything home.

God is not a supermarket.

No, God is more like going home for the holidays. You show up, you greet everyone, you are amazed at how they look, once you get past the small talk, you start telling them how you're really doing, and then you want their advice. You want to feel loved. This is the one place where the people know you so well, that it doesn't make sense to lie. They saw you naked, and they still love you. They heard your voice squeak, and they only made fun of you for a few years. They were at your soccer games. You don't take what you want from them... you give back too. To talk to God requires conversation.

I'm scared, there's no point in denying it. Everything in my life is in upheaval. Perhaps it's because I've been depending on my old friend, me. Me has all the skills he needs to survive. Me knows what is best. Me can get everything and anything done just when it needs to be done. Me needs to be taken out back and shot.

Enough of Me. I'm sick of me. More of You. Let it all be You.

I've tried to do it on my own. It never works. Let it be a stake in the ground. Here is where I pick up my rusty armour, don my unused sword and begin that journey back Home once more. God willing, I'll see you there.

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