1. I’ve never thought myself capable of anger. Okay, that’s not quite accurate. What I meant to say was that I rarely got angry. I saw myself as a pretty easy-going person. Sure, I didn’t agree with everything that everyone did, but I didn’t get angry with them.
2. Time travel. Praying about colleges. Carleton. These words: You will learn to be vulnerable.
3. I get angry very often now. I don’t like that.
People ask me whether I think I’ve changed since coming to college, since going overseas. Last year, I said no, not really. Now, the answer is overwhelmingly yes.
I don’t know if I like these changes. Mostly, no. There has been more than one occasion where I have stared in horror at the person I seem to have become and exclaimed, “I hate who I’ve become”, with more force and feeling than ever before.
I have a lot of theories – I suppose I really mean hypotheses – about why I have become the way that I am. I’m good at coming up with those. I always have been. They’re useful, no doubt, in helping me to understand the before and after, cause and effect. But recently, I’ve used them to justify my growing feelings of anger and injustice, and that’s never good.
See, I want to be angry. I want to blame others, to blame things, events, whatever I can get my hands on, for the way I am today. And I could. Easily. I know that. But what good would that do? I would still be the way I am, only angrier, more agitated.
Perhaps I should instead think like this: Given the onslaught of things from day to day, it is testament to God’s grace that I am not any more horrible than I am right now.
Furthermore, if I believe in God, then I must believe that He can redeem me from those injuries. I must live like I believe. Live by faith, as though it has come true already. Walk in newness of life.
I often lament the state of my mind and soul and heart. I feel like I have become unfeeling, so unimpressed by things that should blow my mind. I lament the lack of poetic lines and phrases popping up in my head. The lack of fodder for songs or poetry or prose. I feel as though I have entered the wasteland of artists (and I mean this in the most layman sense of the term) who tried and failed and then just didn’t try enough.
So I must begin again. Lord, lead the way.
It’s easy – and tempting – to think of temptation and evil as needing to be destroyed. I guess I should say ‘the object of temptation’ and ‘that which tempts us to evil’. But there is a better way:
“No, Deb, you don’t have to kill (insert object of temptation/evil). You just have to really live.”
Live enough, live abundantly, live well… Really live.
Lord, please keep me safe in You. I have all these urges to rant, to whine, to complain, to cast blame for the undesirable changes I see in me. But I need to fight back – not with angry words and punches, but a confidence in who You are calling me to be. And to do that, I must know who it is You are calling me to be. So let it be known to me. I know that I must search. I must actively seek the answers. Yet the most earnest seeker will miss the point and never find the treasure unless You release it to him/her. So I ask You, Lord, to release it that I may find it. I will search for You, and I will find You, when I seek You with all my heart…
Why are you searching as if I’m not enough?
I AM ALL YOU NEED.
…please don’t fight these hands that are holding