Grasping

As I stand under the hot water, almost scalding, watching my skin turn bright red, I don’t think, I don’t feel, I just stand there. I don’t want to think or feel because it hurts too much.

Once again, I’m staring at the title of my blog and if I could laugh I would. There’s a small smirk somewhere inside of me, reacting to the irony of the blog title.

Once again, I’m in a place where I need to extend grace and suddenly Grace doesn’t have any grace to give.

But the root of that withheld-grace is a hardened heart, maybe because I’ve been hurt one too many times.

At least I thought it had been one too many times a few times ago but it keeps happening, over and over again, and I can’t get away from it. And because I can’t get away from it, a wall is built and a fear develops and threatens to creep in through the cracks of the poorly built wall, and because the wall is poorly built the fear does come in and it threatens to consume. And now my last hope to ever get away from this fear and break the cycle was demolished and so now what?

Ann Voskamp says that if we count some things as a gift from God then we must count all things as a gift from God.

How? How is this a gift?

It feels like a curse, like a heavy burden fastened to my back, like a scarlet letter embroidered on my front, revealing what must be rooted deep inside me, an identity I didn't ask for or want.

The other day in class someone wisely said, “Fear and belief cannot exist together.”

The words stung. How can I say I believe in God and receive all He has for me and thank Him for the life He has given me and count it all as joy and count it all as grace, as a gift, yet my heart is brimming with fear?

Paul says, “For freedom Christ set us free, stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” The author of Hebrews says that we are to “throw off everything that hinders (fear) and run with perseverance, the face marked out for us."

Is this really the race marked out for me?

I try. I try to run with perseverance and break away from the yoke of slavery (fear) and I do, but then another instance occurs and the fear is aroused and I’m back to square one. And now the instances are getting closer and closer together and it happens so often that I don’t know any other way. And now my whole outlook on life is skewed and contorted.

And if fear and belief cannot exist together, I guess that means I’m in a state of disbelief.

It’s painful to admit. I’m raising my white flag of surrender and accepting this as my identity. I don’t want to be controlled by this fear but I also don’t want to fight it anymore.

[Note: As you can plainly read, this is one of my heavier posts, not ending on that usual hopeful note. Maybe you can view it as a modern day psalm. All of my posts are an act of worship. For the most part my words are God-inspired and for the purpose of encouraging those around me. In his psalms, David poured out his heart to God and so certain verses are dark and raw but he usually turns it around by the last verse or two and reminds himself of who God is and praises Him for His goodness. However, there are a few psalms of David that do not end positively. So, read this as my psalm of lament, my vulnerable plea. And don’t get too concerned, brighter posts are ahead.]