Time to Grow

It's been a little while since I posted last. The reasons for that are that, number one, I've been busy, what with the school semester wrapping up. There hasn't been much time for nonessentials. However, second, and more importantly, I've noticed a definite negative trend in my last two or three posts. Such things don't help anything, and so my position was one of debate over whether or not to keep this blog going. For the time being, it get to stay. But I want it to reflect a more positive outlook.

Now, on point, this actually ties in a little bit.

With my last post I addressed an issue that is actually still of great concern for me—the ability of human beings to change. But our faith hinges on the belief in a redeemed life. Without that, there would be no hope. For anyone.

With my last post, I was clearly downtrodden, as I've been a lot lately. It's demoralizing to repeatedly make the same mistakes and slip back into the same sinful habits, all the while longing all the more for a godly life. Such things indicate double-mindedness, which I may or may not address in a different post.

I'm the sort of person to get demoralized easily. I criticize myself far more than anyone else does, and so my mistakes are blown out of proportion in my mind. This sets me on a downward spiral, from which circumstances of escape seem mostly arbitrary. That is to say, I can't get myself out of that plunge.

However, when I offer myself a little grace and cut myself some slack, I've noticed, just tonight actually, that things aren't as hopeless as they appear at first blush. (Surprise, surprise, right?) In fact, I'm much closer to my goal than I'd ever dare give myself credit for. The reason I know that ties in with things several people have said over the past few months about their observations of me.

The truth is, I recognize my shortcomings. I'd pretty much have to, with the unsafe amount of introspection in which I allow myself to indulge. Such behavior depresses me like nobody's business, yet it also gives me some clarity as far as what things about myself I need to fix. This, I think, is a revelation many people don't reach.

Now of course, seeing all of my shortcomings, either at face value or through my far-worse perception of them, is what puts me into a depressive state. The reason for that is because it seems hopeless with all the changes I need to make. I feel like I can never do it. And my frequent backslides only exacerbate things further, by making it look like I haven't even made any progress at all. But when I'm in my right mind, I'm able to look behind me and see the changes apparent in my life between now and even just a few months prior.

The plus side of having that deeply introspective tendency is that it does reveal my critical flaws. That's necessary if they're ever going to change. My analysis of those flaws, in turn, gives me a sort of blueprint—a checklist, almost: things I can/must still work on.

A conclusion I reached earlier this evening is that knowing these things, even though they bring me down, is better than knowing something is wrong, but not knowing what. Because with this blueprint, so to speak, I at least have something to work on. In a manner of speaking, I may not have the answers yet, but I do know the right questions to ask. And to me that seems like half the battle.

The Root of All Evil

I've been feeling a lot of anxiety for the past couple of days. A strong, disheartened feeling of futility. Like everything I've done counts for nothing. It makes me question the legitimacy of the changes I thought were being made in my life and within me.

Can we really change? I like to think we can. But somehow it seems like something is preventing me from changing and turning away from my evil, selfish nature. I see the joy in other people's lives, and the genuine love and care they have for others, and I long for it. I've said before that love must be completely selfless, and in light of that, I wonder if I even have the capacity to truly love anyone.

If you're reading this blog, it probably means you know me well enough for me to trust you with my innermost thoughts, because I'm pretty selective about to whom I give the link. Either that or you just happened to stumble across it, which happens sometimes too. But in the case of the former, I know you'll say something like, "That's not true. Your perspective of yourself is just off." But what if you're wrong? What if mine is the only verbalized perspective that's accurate?

Let me explain this: I am an extremely selfish person. To the point where I can justify my every "selfless" action with something that's in it for me, or is a calculated risk for the sake of possibly gaining something later. Basically, each action is either a purchase or an investment for personal gain. I'm cheerful about doing things when I can see those things that will or could benefit me. But once I can no longer see that potential, while I might still do things, inwardly I'm irritated, or even angry about it.

I hate this about myself. To me it's the absolute lowest form of evil there is.

I've always believed that all sin stems from selfishness. More important than an action in and of itself is the intention behind it. God knows the ways we each think, and He understands our motives infinitely better than even we do. And our actions alone are worthless to Him, because it's our faith that He values. Therefore, doing the right things for the wrong reasons is not only wrong, it's actually blasphemy.

I think people often don't think they're blaspheming if they're not using God's name as a bad word. But rest assured, doing something for personal gain and saying it's for God is every bit as wrong. It's the same as doing evil things and pasting God's name all over it.

To accept these ideas as fact, as I do, I necessarily convict myself of repeatedly and unabashedly committing sin. I pray wholeheartedly for God to change me into something that not only glorifies Him, as all things will in the end, but something that actually wants to.

Mrs. Modern Mother Mary

[Foreword: As a word of caution, this one is controversial, even as I read it back to myself. In fact, I feel inclined to pray Psalm 139:23-24 as I reflect on it. Please, view at your discretion.]

I've felt weird for the past few days. Detached. Not in most areas of my life, but specifically at church, and among that social group. I don't like this condition, because it feels like I'm in a state of unrest with my faith. But it's not really that, I don't think. I've still been pretty good about my time spent intentionally with God, and the positive changes are still pretty apparent in the way I've been acting and living life. I still feel like He's moving in me. But my issues seem to be specifically with some of the church.

I first really noticed it on Sunday, when I went to the morning service. I didn't much feel like socializing with my friends, even though ministry commitments keep me from sitting with them half of the time. But as I've thought about it since then, I've realized that even college group hasn't been very appealing to me lately. So although I have had other responsibilities keeping me from going, I haven't been very upset about that, I guess because I haven't really felt much like going anyway. That's a bummer, because up until now these things have been the highlights of my week.

The cause is something that I've noticed about myself: that I find certain tendencies of some of the people within the church to be particularly annoying. For instance, the apparent disinclination to talk about anything secular, just casually. Like God would smite us wicked heathens for mentioning anything that isn't in the Bible. Or the stereotypical conservative bent of the church, manifesting as snarky comments about the left side of the political spectrum, as though you can't be a Christian if you don't vote Republican. Or the always-chipper appearance, real or not, that so often seems to ignore the brokenness of each individual even within the church body. These things might seem petty, and I feel like I'm rebellious and sinful for even being irritated about them, but just being honest, they've been irksome to me for a while.

I guess it bothers me because it feels misguidedly pious, and honestly a bit fake. If all the words that ever come out of our mouths are spoken in Christianese, then how the hell is the rest of the human race supposed to relate to us? How can we extend hands toward the unbelieving world if we're so busy building up sterile walls of holy chatter that estrange the people we're supposed to be guiding?

Things like this make me think of my life before I was following Christ, and how I would have reacted to some of the things that are said in this circle. If all anyone had ever said to me beforehand was spoken in this alienating, holy speech, I would have inwardly thought about how brainwashed they are. It would have acted as a deterrent to me more than anything else.

I think the way to win people's hearts to Christ is through being lovingly relatable. If you just go and attack an unsaved stranger with Bible verses, it's no better than standing on a street corner, shouting about how everyone else is going to Hell. We can't just start off by making people feel uncomfortable. Christianity is relational. The joy and discomfort of following Christ has to be each person's choice, and the only way they'll want to make that choice is if a relationship is built first. That means that we have to be able to meet them, to some extent, in their own territory.

Since the journey truly begins at that point, ignorance of the inevitable pitfalls that follow indicates neglect of the necessary continuation of the relationship between people within the church. People still struggle with their sins, even after being saved, and yet too often I get the impression that members of the church body see salvation as a trophy rather than a lifestyle. That only serves to push struggling Christians into a faith crisis as they begin to doubt their own sincerity in their beliefs and convictions.

Solitary Ground

I spent most of today in a particularly dark place. I was almost completely immobilized, unable to motivate myself to do anything. I couldn't break out, even though I knew I needed to, and I was beyond the reach of anyone who tried to help me.

It scares me when this happens. It doesn't happen as often now as it used to, which is comforting, but the powerlessness of that feeling is still overwhelming. What is there to do when I'm plunged into darkness, and prayer, Bible study, and company bring me no comfort?

I read through some psalms, and then started on Ecclesiates, which are the books to which I usually turn when I'm in a depressed mindset. I suppose they helped marginally. I guess sometimes the only thing to do is endure patiently, and try to remember and internalize the fact that God won't abandon me.

Resistor

A lot of things lately have been pointing to my low self-image as a problem that needs to be fixed. It seems like every day I'm reminded of one of my personal traits that I don't particularly like to see in myself.

I suppose this awareness started with my study of temperaments, specifically my own. Upon learning that I'm melancholy and phlegmatic (neither of which is the least bit surprising), I was partly amused at the utter accuracy, but more distraught that my tendencies are hard-wired, and certain things that I admire in others will never come naturally to me. Instead, I have traits that are somehow admired by others, but which I feel like I'll never see as being of any worth.

I acknowledge the necessity of these traits. Things like deep thoughts are necessary, and the peacemaker is an important role in conflict resolution. But I've asked God several times why He chose me to be this way. I see the admirable qualities of family and friends, and I wish I was more like them.

I know that isn't right. I know that God created me this way with a deliberate purpose, and that my dissatisfaction with it is sinful. Furthermore, I've been told by many people, especially recently, that they admire the qualities in me that are inherent in mel-phlegs. I've learned to thank them, but my gratitude is hardly genuine. In truth, I would rather see those qualities in someone else.

I don't like my excess of emotions, deeply introspective tendencies, and obsession with principles, because they combine and put me into a depressive state. I don't like being a perfectionist, because half of me is too neutral to self-motivate. I don't like not being opinionated, because it makes me feel like I don't even have a personality at all. I don't like being completely introverted, because I feel like I'm below most people's notice, and if I were to leave their lives, they'd barely even notice I was gone.

How much of this is just raw material that needs to be refined by pursuit of Christ? Will I be more satisfied with them once they're developed into something more Christ-like? I know the qualities are good and necessary. But I feel like I don't exhibit them well enough to be at the expense of the great things I see in others. I can only hope that when my life is properly focused, I will be able to see some of the reasons I was created the way that I was, and then acknowledge my own worth.

Out of the Ashes

Every now and then lately I've been thinking about my progress. A lot has happened since my journey began. But I have to say, the most remarkable things have been within the past couple of months. Mind you, the condition of my life is basically the same. But I feel like my outlook on a lot of things has changed for the better.

It's good to know that God is faithful. I admit, for a while I doubted, when I would do all I could to make positive changes in my life and the condition would remain. But time, activity, wise counsel, medication, and even some divine inspiration, while in fact not changing said conditions, have instead trued my outlook, which is far better.

While I look back, it becomes more and more apparent that none of this would have been possible without the pain and suffering that accompanied me along the way. And I would often ask God why He would allow me to suffer so much, now that I am following Him. Truth be told, I wouldn't have believed or understood if He had told me outright. Some things just have to be taught by trial.

A prime case in point: one of my greatest concerns about myself was what I perceived to be a lack of empathy. I wondered why I couldn't legitimately care about other people, as I always seemed to have some kind of selfish motive behind my feelings. I was aware of this, and that awareness contributed to my depression, because I couldn't change that, no matter how hard I tried. What I didn't realize was that God had been working with this all along. And He still is.

I think that God likes to show us His love in a variety of ways. Each way speaks to us in its own respect, and I think many are hard to perceive as what they are. When we think of God loving us, I think the most common conception of that is when He lavishes obvious blessings on us, like healing and success. Harder to see as loving treatment are things like trial and discipline; things that are uncomfortable at best, but that are often agonizing. It's our nature to experience these things and think that God is punishing us, or that He has turned away from us. The thing to realize, though, is that those are disguised blessings, helping to shape and temper us. To equip and prepare us for what God has planned for our lives.

Back to my example, my own pain and suffering, I think, somehow made me more aware of that of those around me. It was like God was telling me not only that everyone suffers in their own way, but also that He loves all of them too, even the ones that I don't like. I don't have a worldly explanation, because through my own best efforts, I couldn't truly feel for others, and while I didn't like the fact that I hated people, I did. But a reality of which I only just became aware is that somehow I do actually care for them now, whereas I didn't before. I can only assert that it is God that has softened my cold, callous heart through the trials He has allowed me to face. The truly wonderful thing is that I'm even beginning to feel that way toward people I've considered to be enemies.

Only God can soften us in such a way.

I think all this goes to show that it sometimes takes a broken heart to truly have a heart for the broken. It's a painful and uncomfortable process, but one that I believe is well worth the suffering.

The Difference is Human

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.