I’ve been contemplative lately. This usually makes for plenty of good opportunities to write. However, I seem to be all thought and no action. I can’t write anything. The contradiction of that last sentence made me chuckle. Writing is a paradox for me: I both love it and hate it simultaneously. I’ve thought a lot of thoughts since my last post – all of them different. The part I find interesting is that they can all be connected. All of my thoughts, concerns, worries, joys, and experiences will tie back to a truth that is present in my life and in the world. Most thoughts that come to mind aren’t new, but are old thoughts resurrected, and often reincarnated. They disguise themselves as something new where really…we’re just learning the same lesson a million different ways. One of those masquerading characters is risk.
I am reluctant to risk. By its very nature, it carries the possibility that something may be lost, and people do not readily choose discomfort. This summer I’ve been reading one of the best books I think I’ve ever read and I don’t say that lightly. In Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, I see myself. I think anyone who reads this book will see themselves…because this isn’t a book about a girl growing up in Brooklyn at the turn of the century, it’s about human character. I have a hunch that when Ms. Smith penned these lines about two, middle-aged spinsters listening to a woman in labor, she was really discouraging people to avoid risk.
Introspective to a fault, I often find myself analyzing different aspects of my character. I came to the conclusion that I should take more risks. I like feeling safe and I like routine. My justification for avoiding risk is always the same: I don’t want it to end badly. But see, there are two sides to this coin called risk. On one side, yes, is great loss…but on the other is great gain. By avoiding flipping the coin altogether I get nothing (which actually is a loss, I think). Risk comes in both small and large packages. Maybe I should take it in easy doses, maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t know. I do know however that I want so badly to stop stagnating. By doing little to nothing I am safe, but I have not moved. I want to move.
Another thought that repeatedly flickers through my mind is this intense battle between knowing and believing. I sincerely question whether or not this is an issue of doubt. I don’t doubt the truth of the gospel or the fact that sinners really are saved from hell to live righteous lives for the glory of a God who does exist. I seem to struggle often with personal belief. I find myself teetering on a very thin ledge between belief and giving up. Knowing the truth of what I believe yet still struggling with all my energy to believe it is true…really true for my life. I know that it is Christ who works in me…I know that He who began a good work in me…I know that it all will be redeemed…I know…I know…but do I believe? Even belief is a gift of God, and to conquer my despair I must ask God. When I find myself thinking “I’ve heard it all before,” ready to just say screw it, these are the times where my thoughts are the most convoluted. The things I’m saying are incessant ramblings…like someone searching for the right word, trying to describe something they might know, and coming up short. It was extremely interesting for me to realize that the times I doubt the gospel (as it applies in my own life) are the times when I am the most confused. I use the most wishy-washy vocabulary like “I feel…It’s like…I’m not sure…I don’t know…” and I literally stopped mid-sentence during one of these convoluted doubt-ramblings because of a single thought. Truth is simple. Our lives are messy with lots of exceptions, yes, but Scripture is clear. This was a good indicator for me that what is false leaves me lost and confused and what is true is clear and simple. I must lose myself to be truly found in Christ.
And finally - cynicism. Cynicism is so hot right now [just kidding, but not really]. Cynicism at its root is unthankfulness and I’ve found that it has manifested itself in my life in a few different ways. Its most recent manifestation has been The Master’s College. Now, this post is about my sin and sanctification – not about school-bashing, so when I mention TMC, it is in reference to my struggles with cynicism, not the actual nature of the school. I’m often so wrapped up in imagining all the different scenarios [that haven’t even happened yet] that I’m harboring bitterness with very few grounds for it. It’s a form of selfishness that is reluctant to look at others and their needs and instead I play the victim of my circumstances. It’s so ugly and its one of my biggest struggles. Because my return to Master’s is imminent, my cynicism has made an appearance at the forefront of my thoughts. So who really cares if I get hit with a Frisbee during an inconveniently placed game of ultimate…or I see one too many roller backpacks…or I see people in authority who don’t live what they claim? What does that have to do with me? It cannot be what dictates my attitudes and actions, because that sin affects other people and I in turn am becoming the very thing I am bitter against.
There’s so much more. To try and recount each of my thoughts of the preceding weeks is a futile endeavor, but these are the main ones. I sin, I learn, I grow [thank you, Holy Spirit]. So these lessons I’ve been learning lately all have resulted from my sin. To sum up the entirety of my thought process the past few weeks in a question: “Why does God allow me to sin?” It’s as essential as risk, as clear and simple as the truth, and difficult for a cynic to believe. So good can come out of it. It is so that I can see how He redeems even the most sin-saturated things for His glory.
