On What I Can't Do

Balance is a concept that has permeated our culture.

Balance is defined like this: a condition in which different elements are equal or in the correct proportions. I think often we focus on the first part of that definition: getting everything equal. We want to balance out our work/home life. We balance spending vs saving, being productive vs relaxing, exercising vs eating ice cream.

And, in general, we find that keeping things equal is good enough. It's status quo living.

But I'm learning about the second part of that definition. About putting things into the correct proportions. And here's what I'm finding that I simply cannot balance:

These things can't co-exist. If I allow even a tiny space for worry, doubt, or anxiety it quickly grows from the small space I intended to overtaking my mental and emotional state--there is no more room for hope.

I can't simultaneous trust God and worry at the same time. They are opposite. Worry says that I don't think God is big enough or strong enough or capable enough and doubts that he loves me enough. Trust means that, no matter what, I believe that God is moving and that he is acting in ways that are for me and not against me. That in his perfect love he knows what he is doing. And his plan is better than mine.

When I allow anxious thoughts to roam my mind and when I carry all the weight around that anxiety brings, I am no longer strong enough to lift up my eyes in hope. My eyes are turned from God and are trained on the problem, despite the fact that God is the ultimate solution. He asks us to cast our anxieties on to him. Not to drag them around with us in a half-hearted effort to seek hope while still pridefully carrying the weight of burden by ourselves.

God didn't design hope to be balanced. Hope is ultimately our trust in God. Our smallest worries are offensive to hope; they stand in opposition. Hope anchors our soul, and where we have hope we cannot have worry.

I've found two ways out: we must surround ourselves with God's promises and with prayer. Choose to fill our minds with the promises of God that say that he is working for us, that he will make all things beautiful in their time, that he can take our old ways and work in new ways. He can make streams in the desert. A way for us through the wilderness.

God also promises us a future that he knows and controls and it is a good future. A future full of hope and prospering. That's the kind of promise I want to try to trust in.

And while surrounding ourselves with God's promises, we must pray and pray hard. Prayer takes the focus off of our worries and onto the God of the universe who cares about us enough to hear our prayer and give us peace. 

On Entering & Exiting the Tunnel

During hard seasons of my life I tend to find myself wandering towards the book of Ecclesiastes. I'm not sure if it's the repeated "meaningless!" declare or the idea that there is a season for everything. Maybe it's that I can so closely relate to the writer and his longing to understand the purpose for what happens to us under the sun.

It brings comfort to my soul to read the words of Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. I'm not sure whether it should or not, because the passage points out all of the terrible things that are bound to happen to us here on this earth. What brings hope is that despite the bad, there is also good. Maybe that's why in the relatively easier seasons in my life I don't wander to this passage--I don't want the reminder that bad is coming. But through a hard time, I desperately need the reminder that the good is coming. 

I've been trying to come up with an image or comparison to these seasons that life finds us in sometimes. The times when the world crashes down all around us. Whether we caused it, or it's a circumstance beyond our control. This is how I'm able to describe my particular seasons. It's not perfect by any means, but this is what I've come up with:

A girl is going about her life, loving what God has given her, doing her best to take care of the people and things she's part of. She's good at this--the easy part. It's fun and games and food and drinks. There are moments that are hard, but she's got quality people running around with her taking care of her. There's happiness and joy and celebration. But somewhere up ahead, there's a wall. And as the girl and her people are frolicking around enjoying their lives, the wall somehow sneaks up. This wall is familiar. Somehow they all know that they are being asked to get from this side of the wall to the other. None of them really want to, after all, all was well just days ago on this side of the wall. But it appears that on the other side is the destination that the girl needs to get to. She's determined. But it's hard. 

At one end of the wall, there's a ladder. Some of her people climb the ladder and simply jump to the other side. But this girl, this girl is terrified of heights. She tries, because she wants to keep up with everyone else, she truly wants to make it to the other side and tries to gather up enough courage to simply climb the ladder and hop over. But each time she climbs a few rungs up, she's so scared that she jumps back down. Often, she falls and skins her knees because she's shaking from fear. All this while watching people, her people, climb right over.

Some of the other people run far, far down to the other end of the wall and walk around. These people have far more endurance than the girl, and even though she tries to follow them, they run too fast and they get so far ahead that she's discouraged. Why is it so easy for them? How can they go so fast and far while she is still limping from trying to climb the ladder and exhausted from trying to keep up? Still, many of them run far ahead and get to the other side.

There are still some of her people on this side of the wall with her. Some of the very closest people that are trying with all their might to not leave her alone on this side of the wall. Literally they are trying to will her to the other side. 

Then, she notices the tunnel. It's a dark path. She can't see to the end. It doesn't seem wise. But how will she catch up? How will she get to the other side? Her friends and people beg her not to go in, but she doesn't see any other way. She's scared, but steps one foot in. The people behind her reach for her, trying to pull her back, but she's started now. She's in the tunnel. And she has to see it through to the end.

She walks feebly forward. It's so dark and sometimes she trips over rocks. Soon, she is all alone, the voices of her friends behind her a distant echo. Going through the dark. Stumbling around. Acquiring scratches and scrapes and bruises all over her body. The tunnel starts to close in on her and rocks from the ceiling and walls start to collapse on her and around her. She finds a small cave of sorts, and decides to wait there awhile. 

She can hear people behind her and in front of her, seemingly happy. But the rocks are tumbling around her and she waits. It feels like forever, but finally the stones stop falling and she crawls out from her shelter. The tunnel is still dark, and the going is slow.  

But she sees it: the light. The tunnel has an end and she must keep going. She steps around boulders and squeezes through the gaps and crawls and slides on her belly as the tunnel gets smaller and smaller. She is cut, bruised, bleeding. But finally, finally the light is right in front of her. One final push and she is free. Her body shows the battle wounds, but she's done it. She went through the tunnel and crossed to the other side. And despite her bleeding skin, she's stronger on the inside. Because she survived.

After wiping her tears and taking a few deep breaths, she looks around. Some of the people who went ahead of her are there to congratulate her. They pat her on the back then keep moving forward. But the people who had been the last ones to leave her, the ones who stayed and tried to help her cross without the tunnel, they were nowhere to be seen. 

She sits down, exhausted and overcome by emotion, and it hits her. Some of them had crossed while she was hiding in the tunnel and they'd kept going, without waiting for her, without a backwards glance. Others hadn't crossed the wall at all. They'd been content dancing and laughing and playing back on the other side, with no need to cross the wall. They didn't have the same destination. And others, she realized, were still stuck in the tunnel. They had come after her, and they had also been bludgeoned by boulders and were wounded in that tunnel. Maybe they had found her shelter. Maybe they were still coming, following her trail of blood to the end of the tunnel. Maybe they had turned around. Maybe they'd never see the victory of the other side. 

Upon realizing that she was entirely alone, the girl didn't know what to do. She thought back to the happy times on the other side...the laughter, the adventures. She hoped those things lied ahead on this side of the wall as well. And while she came out of that tunnel stronger on the inside, she still came out alone. There was no one to celebrate with. No one to dance with or have a party. So she waited. She thought maybe someone would catch up, or come back, or finally pop out through the tunnel. She waited until she couldn't wait anymore. No one came.

So, at last, she got up. Her wounds had healed. Her body and mind were strengthened. And she moved on. Alone. Ready to fight the next battle.  

Praise God that the tunnel always ends, and that there is hope for our future. That we can't mess up too big or wander too far. That we get to the other side. Here's to being strong enough and brave enough to climb the ladder next time, and to finding new people to cheer us on, lift us up, and never give up.