Fighting

Today, I'm fighting back. 

I've been trying to fight back now, but today, I'm aware and have my fists up.

Holidays are awesome. They're a time to spend with family, friends, old and new, and a time for reflection over the past year and all other years. They really are great.

Unfortunately, I think many of us end up reflecting not only on the grace of the past, but also on our failures and disappointments. It's natural. And not necessarily bad. I've learned a lot from my failures.

It's the disappointments that will get you.

I talk a lot about this, probably because it feels so fresh and real. It's where I am, and that's ok.

It's hard for me to not look back and ask why is this where I am? Why is this my life? What did I do wrong?

Let's be blunt: why am I still single?

I've done pretty well this holiday season (ok, we're only a couple days in. This is good for me.) But today is just a little harder. But, by God's grace, He's showing me my idol faster.

So, today I fight back. The lies have never had power over me, not really. Only power I've given them. Today, I am actively choosing not to believe them. It's noon, and the day is long. But I'll keep fighting. Because it's worth it. I'll fix my eyes on Him today. And the next day, and the next day, and the next....

Even if I get what I want, there will always be something else yelling "Look over here! Aren't I awesome?!" And maybe it will be. But it's not Him, so it's not worth focusing on.

Ramblings from a fighting, thankful soul.

So, happy Thanksgiving. I'll be here, fighting against lies, fighting for joy. He is faithful.

But as for you, O man of God, flee these things. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. I charge you in the presence of God, who gives life to all things, and of Christ Jesus, who in his testimony before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, to keep the commandment unstained and free from reproach until the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ, which he will display at the proper time—he who is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see. To him be honor and eternal dominion. Amen. 

1 Timothy 6:11-16

Willing

Well, I looked it in the face. I've been avoiding that, afraid that I might see my own face reflected back at me. I looked at the what-if, and I survived it. 

I think everybody has the what-if. That thing that if it happens, you're not sure you can keep going. You're not sure that you can continue to stand, if it happens. The dreaded what-if.

My what-if is a life of loneliness stretched before me. My what-if is "What if I never get married, or have children? What if this is it? What if this is my life?" What if?

It's a hard what-if to look at. I had only managed side glances, and that had been more than enough for me, to send me spiraling into the depths of the what-if. But it was time. Because what if the what-if....is real?

So, I looked at it. And I cried. A lot. So much crying, it's embarassing. And I felt hopeless. And I didn't want to accept it. And I was mad and frustrated and confused and MAD!

And then, in the midst of my agony, a conversation completely not about the what-if strikes me.

I don't necessarily need to want to. But am I willing?

What? 

My brain wants to tell me those are the same thing. That wanting to be single and being willing to be single are just another way to say each other. But it's not.

Am. I. Willing?

So, I looked at the what-if again. And what I hadn't been able to see clearly before was made clear now. He stands just behind the what-if. He looks at me and asks "Are you willing?" 

And if being willing means walking toward him, even if the what-if is in my path, then I will. I am willing. Because if he's there in the what-if, then it can't be that bad. It would be better than walking a different direction, without him. 

And what-ifs aren't concrete until they are. But if I can let go of all my pain surrounding the what-if and look at the man behind all what-ifs and in all what-ifs, then no what-if will consume me. 

And I'm willing.

For you are my rock and my fortress; and for your name’s sake you lead me and guide me; you take me out of the net they have hidden for me, for you are my refuge. Into your hand I commit my spirit; you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God. 

Psalm 31:3-5

Pride

I am so full of pride.

Everything about me just screams pride, and yet I haven't even noticed it until today. Not really. 

I knew that my criticism of others definitely came from pride. But I didn't know that it ran so deep.

My pride says that I deserve. Despite everything I say about grace and God in his mercifulness, deep down...I think I deserve it. Somehow I, a no one, deserves God to give the ultimate sacrifice. I'm a fool full of pride. 

I feel entitled to things. I feel like I am owed. I am owed a husband. I am owed children. I am owed to live comfortably. I am owed respect. And if I don't get those things, then I deserve to be able to be mad. To scream and cry and be upset. And I am justified in it. 

What a wretched fool I am.

These lies seep in so deep, I don't even feel them. They have grown into my flesh, become one with my soul. And, to top off my treachery, I can say all the right things to make you think I am a humble person, a trusting person, one who wants God's glory above all else.

Pathetic. 

But!

He already knew that about me. He knew I would be this way, and he withheld not his grace from me. Undeserved grace. 

I deserve death for even these seemingly harmless thoughts. I am entitled to hell. 

But he does not give me what I deserve. And that is grace poured out again. And again. And again. 

Holy Spirit, remove my pride. May I serve you humbly, grateful for what I am given. It is all more than I deserve. 

“Is it by your understanding that the hawk soars and spreads his wings toward the south? Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up and makes his nest on high? On the rock he dwells and makes his home, on the rocky crag and stronghold. From there he spies out the prey; his eyes behold it from far away. His young ones suck up blood, and where the slain are, there is he. And the Lord said to Job: “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God, let him answer it.” 

Job 39:26-40:2