Carnival Mirrors

Last night I realized that I struggle with inferiority. At least, last night my struggle with inferiority was named. It's something I've lived under for as long as I can remember. Even though I could feel it, it's name was something that I couldn't figure out on my own. And I didn't even figure it out on my own last night. The Lord made it clear to me.

We were sitting in our small, intimate Walking with God group last night talking about spiritual attack. We realized just how little we all knew about it, how little we'd been taught, how skewed our vision of it has been. It doesn't even occur to us that something spiritual is involved. We rationalize, hypothesize, fantasize, ostracize. But we don't exorcise--until now. We're being challenged to see our lives with new eyes, view what happens to us through the lens of the Lord, not our own.

After sitting and discussing for awhile, we went around the room to share one particular struggle we've been having lately, one particular "weak spot," a place where we've come to realize we're being picked off by the one who has the most to lose. I didn't want to share. I couldn't think of anything. Even though I knew there's been a cloud over me, one that covers pretty much every area of my life, I couldn't name it. I had such a hard time coming up with what exactly it was. So I asked the Lord to help me. I asked him to tell me what it was I was dealing with. It wasn't immediate, but soon I knew exactly what it was. Inferiority.

I feel inferior in who and what I am. I feel inferior to the people around me, who always seem to have it more together than I do. The ones who seem to be preferred, chosen over and above me. I feel like I'm not good enough, smart enough, savvy enough or creative enough to follow through with the things that my heart is bursting to do, the things that I know the Lord has called me to. I feel like he's made a mistake, that if he only knew, he'd realize that I was not up to the task, that I'm inferior to his high calling.

But the truth is that's just a lie. Who would have a vested interest in keeping me away from my calling? The one who fears me most. The one who knows he has something to lose if I rise to the challenge and fulfill my God-given destiny.

So back to last night. At the end of it all, we were going to contend for each other. We were going to pray about all the issues that were raised, deal with them right then and there. When it was my turn, I was so open to what the Lord had for me. Scared, maybe, but only because I knew that hearing truth requires action. And I was scared that I wasn't up to the task. But I persevered anyways because I was hungry enough for the truth. I'm tired of living like this, and I was ready for revelation and release.

There were many things spoken over me, but the things that I remember the most clearly are carnival mirrors. My perception of myself is so skewed, so misshapen, so wrong. It's not true to the way the Lord sees me. Not by a long shot. I've always seen myself differently than he sees me. I may have glimpses, but that's all they are. glimpses. I see a distorted version of myself.


The lord said to me, Oh, if only you saw yourself the way I see you. So pray to see yourself through my eyes so that you can see yourself the way I see you.

Inferiority was broken off of me that night. The truth is that I'm who I am because this is the way the Lord chose to make me. I'm not inferior. I'm beautiful to Him.

I've been looking at myself through Carnival Mirrors; I've been looking at a distorted version of myself, it's kept me from feeling like I can do what I know deep in my bones that I need to do. I don't know how to do it, but I do know that the Lord is not going to let me fall. I know that he'll provide for me. I won't pretend to know how. But what I do know is this: If I stop looking in the mirror and start looking through the Lord's eyes, I might get a clue.

Letting go of all things trivial

Perhaps my dreams are too lofty. But didn't I just read somewhere that God may see our dreams as not being lofty enough? Where did I read that . . . . I think it might have been in a june 18th entry of my A Year with C.S. Lewis book.

When I think about my life, my choices, where I've been and where I'm going, I realize there isn't much of a common theme stringing things together. At least, there hasn't been much of a theme up to this point, anyway. Unless you count complete and utter indecisiveness. I make one choice--laboriously, I might add--only to discover that I'm unsatisfied with it. Something goes wrong and it feels like a bad decision. Something goes right, but the feeling is fleeting, and soon I'm left wondering what the next step is.  I think I've been plagued by indecisiveness. 

In the past few years, though, I've started to make bigger decisions, more sweeping ones that change the course of my future. And I've found myself in some situations that I never dreamed I'd be in. But is this really it? Is this really all there is for me? Maybe my "big" decisions that helped make my dreams become a reality were really selfish. Maybe God knew that they were things I really wanted, so He allowed me to make my choices. And now that I've done things on my terms, where has it left me? Am I any happier than I was when I wondered what it might be like to actually live the life I thought I wanted? 

But this isn't what I always wanted. It is a life borne out of "could-have's" and "hasn't happened yet." It's a life filled with, well, filler, things that keep me moving in the direction of my future, but things that I never really wanted to do in the first place. It's not that I'm lazy, but I've never really wanted to work. Not in the traditional Corporate American sense, at least. To be a high-powered career type was not something that sounded remotely like me, and to be honest, it never appealed to me much. When it became painfully apparent that I would be taking care of myself indefinitely, a career was unavoidable. And today as I write this, my heart hurts a little at the notion that I felt that it was career or nothing. There's all sorts of in-between stuff that's good stuff. Things that I wish I could spend my time on instead of going to the soul-killing office every day. 

And that's what its' doing. It really is. My soul, the deepest,  most real part of me is dying a slow death. Suffocation. Drowning. Exhaustion. Starvation. Atrophy. You name it, it's killing me. 

And yet.

There are so many beautiful moments in my life, like the sound Brennan trying desperately to talk to us. Like the look on my mom's face when I surprise her with something. The smell of a dark, rich coffee brewing in the dark of the morning. Birds chirping as they fly past my window. How can life be so bad when there's so much good going on around me every moment of every day?

The problem is that I want to be part of it, the beauty, I mean. To let myself in and poke around for awhile, admiring what I see and inhaling the sweetness while the scent still lingers. How quickly it dissipates. I don't want to miss it.

I don't want to miss it. I think that's what's plaguing me most. The fear that my time is limited, and if I don't get started, I might miss my chance. My chance at happiness, at love, at joy, at doing something meaningful with my life. This is the only shot I've got. I don't want to miss it because my own selfish ambitions are in the way. God, I don't want to miss it. I don't want to miss it. I want to be here, be present, be attuned to what He's saying to me in every moment of every day, in every interaction, reaction, frustration and celebration. I want to know more, to know more often, to be sure of the things that I don't see. Certain of what I don't know yet. I want to have Faith. Real, true, knock-down drag out faith. The kind that can move mountains, the ones that get in the way of living out my destiny. 

God, how do I do that? How do I get past the mountains in my life? What do I do? Where do I go? How do I change my circumstances? And if I can't change my circumstances, how can I change my attitude? How easy it sounds, how difficult it actually is.

Lord, break my heart for the things that break your heart. Lord let me let go of all things trivial. (Thanks to Andy Smith of World Vision for these simple prayers.)

On waiting (and expecting)

The hum of the space heater. The leaves rustling in the wind. The tap tap tap of the keyboard as i type. All of theses sounds keep time for me these days. And time goes by so slowly when I'm anticipating something, waiting for something to happen. I'm on the cusp of something new. I can feel it. I know it deep down inside, in the most hidden part of me that even I have never seen. What is it exactly? I don't know. I'm really unsure. What I do know is that I'm waiting, sometimes patiently, other times quite impatiently, to be honest. And sometimes I feel like I can take it, like I'm not so desperate for change after all. And then there are days like today. My work ethic is stunted, I feel absolutely uninspired to do much of anything except sit and write (and write and write and write some more).

Perhaps the Lord is calling me to give up the drudgery of this job. Perhaps I'm being challenged to do it (and do it well) despite my feelings. But this is more than a feeling. It's a deep longing, a sort of sorrow that with each tick of the clock reminds me that my time is limited. There's only so much time we're all given, and there's really not much we can do to prolong what little of it we have left. There are so many things my heart yearns for, so much so that the time I do spend rarely feels like time well-spent.

There are moments, though, in which things seem just as they should be. It is in those moments that I gain my strength because I know that there is more than this. So much more. The problem is that I don't want to deplete my balance of hours left by spending too many on things I don't care about. I want to stock them away for another day, another project, another time. And yet here I am, stuck providing a service so that I can afford to keep coming to the office to provide a service. What a truly flawed system we've gotten ourselves into. How can this be life to the full? How can this even be life?

Life is full of tears and frustrations, yes, but it's also full of the beauty of redemption, of forgiveness, of the joy that comes when song birds rouse me from my slumber and welcome me to a new day. The simple pleasure of a good cup of coffee sipped over an engaging book. The warm sunlight flickering through the window panes as the BART train passes overhead. In those moments, somehow I know it will all be ok. That it will all work out. That a life lived out of the depths of my heart is the only way to really live.

Today, I choose to live, despite the fact that it's a struggle to survive.