I've noticed an insidious trend in my habits lately. One that, if left unchecked, could spiral out of control, giving it the potential to wreak havoc on a life that's on the mend. I obviously can't afford that. In this process of maturing, I have to nip this sort of thing at the bud.
The reason I describe my new tendency as insidious is that it's "sneakier" than your average backslide. For all this time, I've had to fight with my proclivities to complain, rebel, and sulk. That hasn't been easy, because they've been normal for me for as long as I can remember. But now that I'm starting to learn how to deal with those behaviors, a new challenge has arisen.
The sneaky part is that the nature of these struggles has been different. In a manner of speaking, they've been less core-related, more surface-level. That is, they have more to do with my direct actions than the reasons behind them. That's why it's been so easy to shrug them off as innocuous, because the actions themselves don't stem from my personal inner brokenness. At least, not the typical aspects of it (rebellion, depression, complacency, etc.). In truth they're just worldly things that can be used for good or bad, depending on the situation. Such things can have an appropriate time, place, and amount. And for the most part, they have.
But that's where things get fuzzy. Moderation is a fine line that I think is tailored to the individual and the situation. There's no sweeping legislation on it. It's also an easy thing from which to stray if proper, firm boundaries aren't established. Once astray, it becomes increasingly easier to let things slip, which, over time, degenerates into more severe problems.
I should stress again, I don't think the activities in question are inherently sinful. They don't disobey God's commands at a rudimentary level. Take, for practical instance, drinking. If done in moderation, it's not bad. Jesus drank wine. Not only that, but He worked a miracle that permitted and encouraged other people to drink it with Him. But as we've learned from other places in the Bible, not to mention modern society, an excess of such behavior can be damaging. I believe the same thing applies for everything.
My conclusion is that all worldly things that are not inherently sinful should be done only appropriately and in moderation. Otherwise they will invariably become sinful.
It's my responsibility as a Christian and an acknowledged creation in the image of God to make sure that my actions point to Him. And that's done not through either legalist or libertine "Christianity" with regard to worldly things, but by being careful in everything to live as Christ lived. That allows and sometimes requires us to use the worldly things as tools accordingly, but always prayerfully, and with a clear perspective of how our behaviors and their consequences reflect our faith.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Friday, February 20, 2015
Constant Motion
Another revelation hit today, as I was dwelling on why it is that I've been so stressed out and depressed lately, and why I've felt like I've been fighting a losing battle. It seems like a lot of things have been shouting at me again, in that silent way they do, about from where this problem stems. And once again, there was one point where it all just kind of came together and made sense.
God talks.
The key lies in the constant balancing act in which I've had to keep myself engaged. Between work, school, church activities, personal health, social life, hobbies, and miscellaneous commitments, I have a surprisingly full plate. That in itself is not necessarily unhealthy, but I think the general message here is that I've taken on more than I can handle.
Now, anyone probably could have told me this. In fact, my pastor/counselor basically did, in saying that I need to take some time and figure out something that is personally enriching for me, and make sure that I do it, because my not doing it is like an appliance being unplugged from the wall. He even went as far as to say that, if necessary, I might give myself a break from school to focus on something smaller, in order to allow myself the satisfaction of having accomplished something, to sort of boost my morale. The notion, then, is bigger goals get fulfilled later. This principle is similar to one I've outlined before, but often forget.
It seems like a theme for me, going through long seasons of complacency, intermittently punctuated by short bursts of energy, during which I try to take on everything all at once, in order to catch up on the time I've wasted. Except it really doesn't work like that. Production and improvement take time, dedication, and commitment; not just hard work. They require a sort of buildup of momentum, which brief, random periods of activity don't allow. They have to be cultivated, just like anything worth having.
I don't plan on dropping out of school or anything too drastic, even though I've been particularly disheartened by that lately. But this does make me think that it's time to reevaluate my priorities, weed out some of the non-essentials, and fill my time with more enriching things, in an effort to pace myself and not spread myself too thin.
God talks.
The key lies in the constant balancing act in which I've had to keep myself engaged. Between work, school, church activities, personal health, social life, hobbies, and miscellaneous commitments, I have a surprisingly full plate. That in itself is not necessarily unhealthy, but I think the general message here is that I've taken on more than I can handle.
Now, anyone probably could have told me this. In fact, my pastor/counselor basically did, in saying that I need to take some time and figure out something that is personally enriching for me, and make sure that I do it, because my not doing it is like an appliance being unplugged from the wall. He even went as far as to say that, if necessary, I might give myself a break from school to focus on something smaller, in order to allow myself the satisfaction of having accomplished something, to sort of boost my morale. The notion, then, is bigger goals get fulfilled later. This principle is similar to one I've outlined before, but often forget.
It seems like a theme for me, going through long seasons of complacency, intermittently punctuated by short bursts of energy, during which I try to take on everything all at once, in order to catch up on the time I've wasted. Except it really doesn't work like that. Production and improvement take time, dedication, and commitment; not just hard work. They require a sort of buildup of momentum, which brief, random periods of activity don't allow. They have to be cultivated, just like anything worth having.
I don't plan on dropping out of school or anything too drastic, even though I've been particularly disheartened by that lately. But this does make me think that it's time to reevaluate my priorities, weed out some of the non-essentials, and fill my time with more enriching things, in an effort to pace myself and not spread myself too thin.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
The Meaning of I
There's nothing quite as destructive as a revelation. Whether it's a joyous or disastrous one, it's dynamite. In the case of the former, it shatters the walls that keep you imprisoned by misunderstanding, opening up paths to new, relief-filled enlightenment. For the latter, it attacks the very core of your understanding, damaging, even obliterating the foundations upon which you've based all of your beliefs.
Many times I've speculated that if a true, faithful follower of Christ had presented to him completely irrefutable evidence in the nonexistence of God, thereby disproving all doctrine upon which his faith was based, when the reality of that sank in, he could become the most dangerous man in the world. The reason being, everything he had been shown as the work of God's hands, everything he had been told and taught, everything he believed, everything upon which he based all of his morals, ethics, and truly life itself, would be a lie. He would have no reason to continue in any of that. Combined with the emotional trauma that would be inevitable in such a situation, he would either snap and live a life of sheer recklessness likely ending in a quick death, or he would accept and complacently waste away.
Mind you, and I reiterate, this would have to be completely irrefutable evidence. Therefore, since no such evidence could possibly exist, this scenario is completely hypothetical. It is, however, tied in with identity crisis, which is a different revelation of the same general sort. Incidentally, it's what I'm experiencing right now.
All my life, I've built up this view of myself. Who I am, what I like, my natural tendencies, that sort of thing. I've liked to think of myself as somewhat of an expert on myself. Who better to know you than yourself, right? There is no one that will ever understand you the way that you do, except God (which, sidenote, is one reason why relationship with Him is so important).
But what happens when you're wrong about that?
This morning, as I sat in class reflecting on my apparent lack of understanding of the subjects that will be covered on the exam next class period, then naturally allowing that to spiral downward and accumulate negative thoughts about the other aspects of my life that appear to be falling apart, I came to the stark realization that I have no idea what I'm doing in life. I am studying a field in which I have invested an interest, but is evidently conceptually beyond me; my brain simply refuses to process it.
The damaging part of all this is, I never envisioned myself doing anything else. As I try to do that now, I have to ask myself what it is that I enjoy. This was already something I was doing, with some frustration. Part of it must come from depression, but I'm having trouble discerning what things I actually enjoy, versus what I've just picked up from my various associations. It makes me question how much of "me" is just adapted as I'm trying to fit in somewhere. In essence, am I really "me"?
That brings up another concern, which is on a different field entirely: social. I'm sure I've mentioned before that I feel like I don't fit in anywhere, even though I associate with a lot of people. Being peripheral in a lot of groups seems so empty and shallow when compared to being an important part of one or two. In the social circles I'm in some way involved in, I add little and have trouble relating. I try too hard, and it's obvious.
I'm afraid of the conclusions I might draw from all of this. But more than that, I'm afraid that I won't ever draw conclusions. In the past I've been completely convinced of who I am, at least in certain respects, only to realize later that that wasn't me at all. When that sort of thing happens (as it has more than once), it makes me feel wishy-washy; like my character has no integrity, and I'll just shapeshift again to match my environment when it changes. But I'm never truly happy with that, because I'm still not true to myself.
This is more long winded than I wanted it to be, so I just want to sum this up a little bit. The things mentioned here, while they do bother me, are not the reason for my despair, so much as symptoms of the fundamental problem of truly not knowing myself. My fear is that my hopeless feeling is correct; that I will never truly know myself. My prayer, of course, is that I will gain clarity, which will fly in the face of that hopelessness.
Many times I've speculated that if a true, faithful follower of Christ had presented to him completely irrefutable evidence in the nonexistence of God, thereby disproving all doctrine upon which his faith was based, when the reality of that sank in, he could become the most dangerous man in the world. The reason being, everything he had been shown as the work of God's hands, everything he had been told and taught, everything he believed, everything upon which he based all of his morals, ethics, and truly life itself, would be a lie. He would have no reason to continue in any of that. Combined with the emotional trauma that would be inevitable in such a situation, he would either snap and live a life of sheer recklessness likely ending in a quick death, or he would accept and complacently waste away.
Mind you, and I reiterate, this would have to be completely irrefutable evidence. Therefore, since no such evidence could possibly exist, this scenario is completely hypothetical. It is, however, tied in with identity crisis, which is a different revelation of the same general sort. Incidentally, it's what I'm experiencing right now.
All my life, I've built up this view of myself. Who I am, what I like, my natural tendencies, that sort of thing. I've liked to think of myself as somewhat of an expert on myself. Who better to know you than yourself, right? There is no one that will ever understand you the way that you do, except God (which, sidenote, is one reason why relationship with Him is so important).
But what happens when you're wrong about that?
This morning, as I sat in class reflecting on my apparent lack of understanding of the subjects that will be covered on the exam next class period, then naturally allowing that to spiral downward and accumulate negative thoughts about the other aspects of my life that appear to be falling apart, I came to the stark realization that I have no idea what I'm doing in life. I am studying a field in which I have invested an interest, but is evidently conceptually beyond me; my brain simply refuses to process it.
The damaging part of all this is, I never envisioned myself doing anything else. As I try to do that now, I have to ask myself what it is that I enjoy. This was already something I was doing, with some frustration. Part of it must come from depression, but I'm having trouble discerning what things I actually enjoy, versus what I've just picked up from my various associations. It makes me question how much of "me" is just adapted as I'm trying to fit in somewhere. In essence, am I really "me"?
That brings up another concern, which is on a different field entirely: social. I'm sure I've mentioned before that I feel like I don't fit in anywhere, even though I associate with a lot of people. Being peripheral in a lot of groups seems so empty and shallow when compared to being an important part of one or two. In the social circles I'm in some way involved in, I add little and have trouble relating. I try too hard, and it's obvious.
I'm afraid of the conclusions I might draw from all of this. But more than that, I'm afraid that I won't ever draw conclusions. In the past I've been completely convinced of who I am, at least in certain respects, only to realize later that that wasn't me at all. When that sort of thing happens (as it has more than once), it makes me feel wishy-washy; like my character has no integrity, and I'll just shapeshift again to match my environment when it changes. But I'm never truly happy with that, because I'm still not true to myself.
This is more long winded than I wanted it to be, so I just want to sum this up a little bit. The things mentioned here, while they do bother me, are not the reason for my despair, so much as symptoms of the fundamental problem of truly not knowing myself. My fear is that my hopeless feeling is correct; that I will never truly know myself. My prayer, of course, is that I will gain clarity, which will fly in the face of that hopelessness.
Monday, February 9, 2015
Imago
What an emotionally torrential week it's been.
The cause? Who can really say? There's been a lot going on internally. Battles fought within the solitary confines of my own head. It's no wonder so few people understand depression and anxiety; they're only seeing the effects. And only some of them, at that.
So what goes on in my head? Nothing fun, let me assure you. Not like how it used to be, when the world was fresh. I'd use my God-given, vast imagination as my own private playground. I was the hero then, smiting the bad guys, saving the world, getting the girl in the end. You know, classic fantasy tale, where everything ends up as the reader thinks it ought to. But that was a long time ago. Now my mind is cluttered with debris from shattered dreams and aspirations. A veritable minefield: tread on the wrong topic and we have an explosion of negative emotion, which often triggers half a dozen others. I couldn't even begin to describe what the topography must look like after all these years. It's not so pretty anymore, and I feel it.
That was a slight digression, but I liked the analogy, so I figured I'd run with it.
But it's true: it only takes a single misstep sometimes to launch me into full-scale psychological civil war. And the thing about such warfare is that the only casualty is myself, piece by piece.
I don't know that I can really describe the relationship between that and the emotional disorders, except to say that it is, at least in part, causal. My many mistakes and failures of the past have contributed to a corrupt self-image, in which I consistently tell myself that I am worthless, and then back that notion with conjectures about people's opinions of me.
There is everything wrong with this picture.
In fact, I'm looking at it all wrong. As a friend of mine recently told me, we're made in the image of God, and because of that, it's not even my right to hate myself the way that I so often do. To do that is akin to looking at Christ on the cross and saying that His perfect sacrifice wasn't enough to redeem me. Talk about a slap to the face of the Creator of all things.
The problem is, I've entrenched myself in this mentality. I know my validation has to come from Christ. But for some stupid reason, that's "just not good enough" for my subconscious mind. The unbelievable nerve of such pride, that the specific and unconditional love of the Almighty God of everything is just not good enough for me! So I still seek the empty approval of other human beings that are, each in their own way, just as screwed up as I am.
I want to end this on a happy note, but this is the present condition of things. So I'll finish with the reassurance to myself and to any readers that I'm seeking long-overdue wise counsel for this problem. Let's pray that I have the wisdom to comprehend the truth.
The cause? Who can really say? There's been a lot going on internally. Battles fought within the solitary confines of my own head. It's no wonder so few people understand depression and anxiety; they're only seeing the effects. And only some of them, at that.
So what goes on in my head? Nothing fun, let me assure you. Not like how it used to be, when the world was fresh. I'd use my God-given, vast imagination as my own private playground. I was the hero then, smiting the bad guys, saving the world, getting the girl in the end. You know, classic fantasy tale, where everything ends up as the reader thinks it ought to. But that was a long time ago. Now my mind is cluttered with debris from shattered dreams and aspirations. A veritable minefield: tread on the wrong topic and we have an explosion of negative emotion, which often triggers half a dozen others. I couldn't even begin to describe what the topography must look like after all these years. It's not so pretty anymore, and I feel it.
That was a slight digression, but I liked the analogy, so I figured I'd run with it.
But it's true: it only takes a single misstep sometimes to launch me into full-scale psychological civil war. And the thing about such warfare is that the only casualty is myself, piece by piece.
I don't know that I can really describe the relationship between that and the emotional disorders, except to say that it is, at least in part, causal. My many mistakes and failures of the past have contributed to a corrupt self-image, in which I consistently tell myself that I am worthless, and then back that notion with conjectures about people's opinions of me.
There is everything wrong with this picture.
In fact, I'm looking at it all wrong. As a friend of mine recently told me, we're made in the image of God, and because of that, it's not even my right to hate myself the way that I so often do. To do that is akin to looking at Christ on the cross and saying that His perfect sacrifice wasn't enough to redeem me. Talk about a slap to the face of the Creator of all things.
The problem is, I've entrenched myself in this mentality. I know my validation has to come from Christ. But for some stupid reason, that's "just not good enough" for my subconscious mind. The unbelievable nerve of such pride, that the specific and unconditional love of the Almighty God of everything is just not good enough for me! So I still seek the empty approval of other human beings that are, each in their own way, just as screwed up as I am.
I want to end this on a happy note, but this is the present condition of things. So I'll finish with the reassurance to myself and to any readers that I'm seeking long-overdue wise counsel for this problem. Let's pray that I have the wisdom to comprehend the truth.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Turn the Page
I had an eventful weekend. That is to say not much actually happened to directly change anything, but a lot was spoken to me. I guess that's what sermons and seminars are for.
This weekend, I got to hear two great speakers talk about some of the issues and struggles Christians have to deal with in everyday life. Aimed at men specifically, in this case, but nothing says the rules don't apply to everyone. We talked about subjects like obeying God, allowing the hardships in life to shape and temper us, and ultimately getting up and moving on through our brokenness.
These were hard things for me to hear, being as broken as I am. I always inwardly hope that God will just fix my broken parts and give me what I want when that's done. Of course, it's never happened that way, which often leaves me wondering just what the hell God is actually doing with my life. But I guess that's not for me to know yet.
Faith is hard.
Sunday night I had a lot to think about. Between the incidents that have happened over the past year or two and the messages that I heard over the course of the weekend, I was basically a nervous wreck. Still kind of am, to be honest. So I spoke to a friend of mine who can relate and understand, to some extent, the monsters with which I torment myself every day, on account of having similar monsters of their own. That is to say, this person kinda gets me, and I thank God that I've been blessed with such a friend.
Well, during a short, but extremely impactful conversation about one of the main sources of pain and confusion in my life, my friend essentially reiterated everything that was said over the weekend in a short summary: do the work and make the movements that God is commanding me to make, and He will set me free from the things that have a hold on me.
I didn't tell this friend anything about the messages I had been hearing all weekend, nor about the recurring theme, giving me a nagging feeling about one stronghold I've had for a long time. All weekend, I kept thinking about an environment that has been a comfort zone for me for a long time. Unfortunately, it's also become increasingly cancerous in recent times. The feeling I kept getting was telling me that it was time to break free from that fortress, which had kept me emotionally safe in the past, but now acts as a prison.
I'll say again: I didn't tell my friend any of this. Didn't even bring it up. So when it was said that I had to get up and make these movements, I felt like my friend was given God's authority to speak directly to my core, to issue a command for me to immediately break through this stronghold. These words felt like they were spelled out for me plainly, as though written down, in English, on paper.
So today, I did the bravest thing I've ever had to do: I obeyed that command. I believe that God has spoken to me. I don't understand it, and I have no idea what to expect. To say that I'm nervous doesn't even scratch the surface of how petrified I am with fear of this unknown. But I want my God to be sovereign in my life, and I have to believe that He will catch me, even if I fail, when striving after Him.
This weekend, I got to hear two great speakers talk about some of the issues and struggles Christians have to deal with in everyday life. Aimed at men specifically, in this case, but nothing says the rules don't apply to everyone. We talked about subjects like obeying God, allowing the hardships in life to shape and temper us, and ultimately getting up and moving on through our brokenness.
These were hard things for me to hear, being as broken as I am. I always inwardly hope that God will just fix my broken parts and give me what I want when that's done. Of course, it's never happened that way, which often leaves me wondering just what the hell God is actually doing with my life. But I guess that's not for me to know yet.
Faith is hard.
Sunday night I had a lot to think about. Between the incidents that have happened over the past year or two and the messages that I heard over the course of the weekend, I was basically a nervous wreck. Still kind of am, to be honest. So I spoke to a friend of mine who can relate and understand, to some extent, the monsters with which I torment myself every day, on account of having similar monsters of their own. That is to say, this person kinda gets me, and I thank God that I've been blessed with such a friend.
Well, during a short, but extremely impactful conversation about one of the main sources of pain and confusion in my life, my friend essentially reiterated everything that was said over the weekend in a short summary: do the work and make the movements that God is commanding me to make, and He will set me free from the things that have a hold on me.
I didn't tell this friend anything about the messages I had been hearing all weekend, nor about the recurring theme, giving me a nagging feeling about one stronghold I've had for a long time. All weekend, I kept thinking about an environment that has been a comfort zone for me for a long time. Unfortunately, it's also become increasingly cancerous in recent times. The feeling I kept getting was telling me that it was time to break free from that fortress, which had kept me emotionally safe in the past, but now acts as a prison.
I'll say again: I didn't tell my friend any of this. Didn't even bring it up. So when it was said that I had to get up and make these movements, I felt like my friend was given God's authority to speak directly to my core, to issue a command for me to immediately break through this stronghold. These words felt like they were spelled out for me plainly, as though written down, in English, on paper.
So today, I did the bravest thing I've ever had to do: I obeyed that command. I believe that God has spoken to me. I don't understand it, and I have no idea what to expect. To say that I'm nervous doesn't even scratch the surface of how petrified I am with fear of this unknown. But I want my God to be sovereign in my life, and I have to believe that He will catch me, even if I fail, when striving after Him.
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