I have a confession to make: this self-sufficiency is killing me. No, really. I can’t lead the life God wants me to lead on my own. I don’t have the necessary strength for the long haul. I feel like someone who’s been training on my own for a sprint only to show up to the race and discover I’m really running a marathon. I’m just not ready for it. This life of following Jesus is, at times, too overwhelming, too demanding and just too hard.
At least it’s too hard sometimes. At other times, though, life can actually feel pretty good.
You know what I mean: there’s a lull in the battlefield that is your life and you notice, perhaps for the first time in a long time – or ever! – that life is actually pretty good. The horizon is clear of storm clouds and you feel positive, secure, safe. Life is still far from perfect, of course, but at that moment you realize something revolutionary: you’re happy. You feel like you’re finally “in control.” You’re like Leonardo Di Caprio’s character in Titanic: you’re on the bow of the ship yelling to whoever can hear, “I’m the King of the world!” That’s a good feeling.
And that’s when it happens.
At first, nothing significant changes outwardly, but inwardly massive emotional and mental shifts take place. For me, this begins by spending less and less time on inward, personal reflection and meditation. I neglect prayer and Bible study. I think less and less about God and tend to ignore what he is doing (or trying to do!) in my life.
Subconsciously you’ve begun to move from an honest reliance on God’s grace to sustain you in every way to a more “culturally correct” You can do it! attitude. (Using the voice of Rob Schneider’s character from The Waterboy, of course.) It’s very subtle and quiet, nearly imperceptible but to the most astute observer.
There are outward signs of what’s happening, though. My biggest hang-up is to watch too much television, subconsciously hoping that “veg” time will allow me to rest and refresh. I neglect my relationships with my family and friends. I ignore phone calls and emails, saying I just don’t have the time or energy right now to invest in someone else’s life. I procrastinate on my writing and reading. I stop exercising. The drive-thru window becomes my lunch break.
But it’s all good, right? Because I feel good. I’m happy because I’ve convinced myself I can live this life on my terms, according to my rules, make my own boundaries. I am “captain of my fate and master of my soul.” I am self-sufficient.
And my self-sufficiency is killing me.
I don’t know it’s killing me, of course, the crisis happens. You know what I mean: A job is lost. A diagnosis is received. A marriage begins to crumble. A child is rushed to the hospital. A loved one dies. Whatever it may be, we are suddenly reminded that the little kingdoms we’ve created for ourselves are far too small and too brittle to handle the surprising upheaval. Our self-guided ship runs aground and sinks or is attacked by zombie pirates or we’re demoted from Captain to swabbing the deck with a diseased toothbrush (feel free to pick your own nautical metaphor here).
Life happens. The question is not “Will I feel overwhelmed by forces far beyond my control while trying to live the life God has for me?” but is “When will I feel overwhelmed…?” Life will become overwhelming; that much is assured. The vital question for us is: What do you do when life happens?
Panic is, of course, always an option, but it rarely helps. Crying is often appropriate, but it must end sometimes and then what? I’ve employed cursing but it only heightens my anger and frustration. Ignoring the crisis only makes it worse. Running and hiding is out because, well… let’s face it: we’re adults here and we’ve got to deal with it. (One of my co-workers has a saying taped to her desk that says: “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it!” I’m the only male in my office and, believe me, that sort of comment is only the tip of the iceberg. J)
There are, of course, other responses other than a knee-jerk reaction of expletives and despair.
In the ongoing process of being formed into the image of Jesus, I’m learning to respond in a way that actually deepens my faith and reliance on God. A passage from Paul’s second letter to the Church at Corinth will help to illumine this process…
We don’t want you in the dark, friends, about how hard it was when all this came down on us in Asia province. It was so bad we didn’t think we were going to make it. We felt like we’d been sent to death row, that it was all over for us. As it turned out, it was the best thing that could have happened. Instead of trusting in our own strength or wits to get out of it, we were forced to trust God totally – not a bad idea since he’s the God who raises the dead! And he did it, rescued us from certain doom. And he’ll do it again, rescuing us as many times as we need rescuing. (2 Corinthians 1:8-10, The Message)
At least it’s too hard sometimes. At other times, though, life can actually feel pretty good.
You know what I mean: there’s a lull in the battlefield that is your life and you notice, perhaps for the first time in a long time – or ever! – that life is actually pretty good. The horizon is clear of storm clouds and you feel positive, secure, safe. Life is still far from perfect, of course, but at that moment you realize something revolutionary: you’re happy. You feel like you’re finally “in control.” You’re like Leonardo Di Caprio’s character in Titanic: you’re on the bow of the ship yelling to whoever can hear, “I’m the King of the world!” That’s a good feeling.
And that’s when it happens.
At first, nothing significant changes outwardly, but inwardly massive emotional and mental shifts take place. For me, this begins by spending less and less time on inward, personal reflection and meditation. I neglect prayer and Bible study. I think less and less about God and tend to ignore what he is doing (or trying to do!) in my life.
Subconsciously you’ve begun to move from an honest reliance on God’s grace to sustain you in every way to a more “culturally correct” You can do it! attitude. (Using the voice of Rob Schneider’s character from The Waterboy, of course.) It’s very subtle and quiet, nearly imperceptible but to the most astute observer.
There are outward signs of what’s happening, though. My biggest hang-up is to watch too much television, subconsciously hoping that “veg” time will allow me to rest and refresh. I neglect my relationships with my family and friends. I ignore phone calls and emails, saying I just don’t have the time or energy right now to invest in someone else’s life. I procrastinate on my writing and reading. I stop exercising. The drive-thru window becomes my lunch break.
But it’s all good, right? Because I feel good. I’m happy because I’ve convinced myself I can live this life on my terms, according to my rules, make my own boundaries. I am “captain of my fate and master of my soul.” I am self-sufficient.
And my self-sufficiency is killing me.
I don’t know it’s killing me, of course, the crisis happens. You know what I mean: A job is lost. A diagnosis is received. A marriage begins to crumble. A child is rushed to the hospital. A loved one dies. Whatever it may be, we are suddenly reminded that the little kingdoms we’ve created for ourselves are far too small and too brittle to handle the surprising upheaval. Our self-guided ship runs aground and sinks or is attacked by zombie pirates or we’re demoted from Captain to swabbing the deck with a diseased toothbrush (feel free to pick your own nautical metaphor here).
Life happens. The question is not “Will I feel overwhelmed by forces far beyond my control while trying to live the life God has for me?” but is “When will I feel overwhelmed…?” Life will become overwhelming; that much is assured. The vital question for us is: What do you do when life happens?
Panic is, of course, always an option, but it rarely helps. Crying is often appropriate, but it must end sometimes and then what? I’ve employed cursing but it only heightens my anger and frustration. Ignoring the crisis only makes it worse. Running and hiding is out because, well… let’s face it: we’re adults here and we’ve got to deal with it. (One of my co-workers has a saying taped to her desk that says: “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it!” I’m the only male in my office and, believe me, that sort of comment is only the tip of the iceberg. J)
There are, of course, other responses other than a knee-jerk reaction of expletives and despair.
In the ongoing process of being formed into the image of Jesus, I’m learning to respond in a way that actually deepens my faith and reliance on God. A passage from Paul’s second letter to the Church at Corinth will help to illumine this process…
We don’t want you in the dark, friends, about how hard it was when all this came down on us in Asia province. It was so bad we didn’t think we were going to make it. We felt like we’d been sent to death row, that it was all over for us. As it turned out, it was the best thing that could have happened. Instead of trusting in our own strength or wits to get out of it, we were forced to trust God totally – not a bad idea since he’s the God who raises the dead! And he did it, rescued us from certain doom. And he’ll do it again, rescuing us as many times as we need rescuing. (2 Corinthians 1:8-10, The Message)
This often-overlooked passage is not popular with many Christians, especially our pastors, teachers and other leaders because it is so subversively honest. Here is Paul, the towering figure of the New Testament, the hero of the Church, the “super apostle,” the tireless evangelist to the Gentile world saying he felt like he was going to die! Paul may be a lot of things, but he’s certainly no drama queen. I don’t believe Paul is over exaggerating just to get his point across. I believe Paul is speaking directly from personal experience.
What happened to Paul? Life happened. It was so overwhelming that his only response was to “trust God totally.” Indeed, that’s the only way he could respond. Paul didn’t have the necessary strength to continue. He didn’t possess the will to endure; he couldn’t come up with the answer to solve his dilemma.
Paul was “forced to trust God totally." There were simply no other options.
This choice to rely on “the God who raises the dead” is a courageous choice. Some people will withdraw from the battle or compromise with the enemy or renounce their faith altogether. To face these difficulties head-on, trusting in nothing and no one else other than the God of the Resurrection is marked by subversive courage.
There will be, of course, more to come on this subject, but I will close for now with a few words from renowned psychiatrist and author Gerald May who said
There’s a sort of freedom when you’ve done what you can do and you just have to give up and let be. It’s not a matter of trust; it’s simply that there’s nothing else left to do. Someone said courage is fear that has said its prayers. I guess my prayers have been said, said without thinking... I realize I no longer know the difference between fear and courage. They are made of the same stuff. Maybe courage just has a little extra choice in it. (The Wisdom of the Wilderness, 29-30)
There is always the choice to trust God during times of crisis, even in times when you feel “in control” and relaxed.
What happened to Paul? Life happened. It was so overwhelming that his only response was to “trust God totally.” Indeed, that’s the only way he could respond. Paul didn’t have the necessary strength to continue. He didn’t possess the will to endure; he couldn’t come up with the answer to solve his dilemma.
Paul was “forced to trust God totally." There were simply no other options.
This choice to rely on “the God who raises the dead” is a courageous choice. Some people will withdraw from the battle or compromise with the enemy or renounce their faith altogether. To face these difficulties head-on, trusting in nothing and no one else other than the God of the Resurrection is marked by subversive courage.
There will be, of course, more to come on this subject, but I will close for now with a few words from renowned psychiatrist and author Gerald May who said
There’s a sort of freedom when you’ve done what you can do and you just have to give up and let be. It’s not a matter of trust; it’s simply that there’s nothing else left to do. Someone said courage is fear that has said its prayers. I guess my prayers have been said, said without thinking... I realize I no longer know the difference between fear and courage. They are made of the same stuff. Maybe courage just has a little extra choice in it. (The Wisdom of the Wilderness, 29-30)
There is always the choice to trust God during times of crisis, even in times when you feel “in control” and relaxed.
What choice will you make?
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your blog is the next best thing to being in a small group. Keep up the good work. We can learn alot from Paul.
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