There are so many different ways to rebel. My life seethes and simmers with rebellion. The whole of my being is bent towards resisting. Fighting. Combating. Rioting. I despise systems ruled by and resulting in injustice. Lack of justice is fuel for the battles I often find myself in.
A new obstacle has presented itself in the midst of my life and I find myself unwilling to engage in the fight. Sometimes I wish for the end of my life. Often it seems like a viable alternative to participating in a war the I cannot see the point in fighting.
I am afraid. I have been afraid before, but never have I feared losing myself….my ambition. My drive. My energy. My spirit. My stubbornness. My determination. My pride.
I am losing my grasp on those things. They are the foundation upon which I stand. They are the things I was raised to value and display in the way an expert gambler with a full house clutched in his hand. Where others have failed, I have not. I will not.
Yet I am. Daily, my grip on myself is growing weaker while my view of the things that make me who I’ve always been is mottled. Distorted. Foggy. Sinking sand.
I am losing so many things that encapsulate who the world has shaped me to be.
I know enough about my God to recognize that where self-pride exists, He cannot.
I am plagued to the point of deep despair as I find myself living with an illness that I cannot battle in the manner I am used to and comfortable with. It is crushing the essence of who I am and I wonder what will be left of me?
I see no purpose in fighting. I am experiencing a loneliness that cripples any desire I have for living.
I’ve never been a perfect human being. More often than not, I am an abrasive, controlling, moody, irrational, feisty woman who can be difficult to engage with. For most of my life, that’s all I’ve known. I don’t know how to survive in the world without those characteristics. The world planted seeds of self-protective armor in my childhood and that armor has grown into a slew of weapons that have insured my survival. Until now. Such weapons are useless when battling in the spiritual realm.
Still, there has always been a crack in my shield~small enough that I was able to maintain the darkness of my self-preservation but big enough for a shred of light to enter my being.
The ray of light, so beautiful and soft, interrupts the momentum of the steel parts inside of me. The Spirit of God has softened some of the sharpness in me, but there is more work needing to be done. More of my self must die if I am to live.
It is a complex idea, this whole thing about dying so I can live. The concept, in it’s spiritual entirety, is in complete opposition to all I know. It’s only when I realize I am fighting on the wrong side of the war in my life that I begin to understand my current predicament with a spiritual mind, rather than a worldly one. Gaining spiritual insight is a gift of the Holy Spirit, received through faith. For me personally, God nurtures my understanding of Him and His purposes through His Word. Through Scripture. It is there that I turn, often times later than I should, for answers, understanding, comfort and new weapons.
I am again at a point in my life where I have no choice but to turn and seek more of God and His Wisdom. The illness I am plagued with leaves me no energy to fight on my own. More of me is dying. I cannot live without God shining light into dark, dead places in me.
So, I turn. Again, in humbleness, despair, fear, and grief I turn toward Jesus, grasping for more life. More of Him.
I believe all Scripture is profitable for man. I cling to the Word with everything I have when I am stranded in this world. I find myself disgraced that my grasp is loosened when the pain in my life is bearable and I pray that as more of my worldly self dies, I will somehow absorb more of Jesus