Safe in the Storm

This week I forgot the gospel. Instead, I listened to old lies:

I’m brilliant. I’m terrible.  Everything is too much. I can do it all myself.

I went back to old idols:

I went  to bed instead of facing all my feelings. Then I leapt up and tried to prove I was worthwhile. Then my head exploded under the weight of expectation and I retreated back to bed. And then up I popped till it started again… zero to hero, with nothing in between.

I fixated on certain foods and brands of shampoo.  If only I could get the right balance of nutrients I’d feel much better.  If only I had the right conditioner I’d look great. 

I stockpiled groceries. I went clothes shopping. Something’s missing: I haven’t got enough. Quick, find the solution! Do something, anything to feel better:

I comfort-ate and went to bed.

I got my hair cut and looked into expensive skin treatments.

I cleaned.

I shouted at the cats.

I cleaned again.

I disappeared up my own belly-button and then I tried to go deeper. It was dark and airless and I choked on my own fluff.

I told myself I was doing fine.

I despaired because I was such a mess.

 

and then,

I gave up.

 

Instead of stuffing and spending and cleaning and sleeping and hiding and doing – I talked to God.

 

Slowly

really slowly

I remembered the gospel.

 

I remembered I couldn’t make myself happy. Or good.  Or worthwhile.

I remembered I’m a sinner, broken and wicked.

I looked at myself and I looked at Jesus.  I felt ashamed.  And very tired.

Then I climbed into the Father’s lap and said sorry.  I’m sorry.

 

I let him take all the worry and all the guilt and all the mess.

 

I remembered that I’m loved.

I remembered I’m forgiven.

And I rested in Him.