I finally got to read chapter 3 on Saturday morning. I had set my alarm for 6am which was an hour of “sleeping in”. And I even let myself “lounge” for a ½ hour. But I wanted to read 3 in the worst way and was finally able to drag myself out of bed. I took my books into my daughter’s room – for she was in mine. Chapter 3 lifted a heavy burden and I wished I had given in and read it sooner. However, perhaps I needed to live with the anguish that chapter 2 brought me. It made the “lifting” all the more palpable.
Why do we try SO hard? Why do we set the goals SO high? Why do we punish ourselves SO much when we cannot meet such improbable goals?
I started running around last April, I believe. I knew I couldn’t run a long distance. I knew I couldn’t keep it up. I knew I would have to walk and that that would be okay. Walking was better than nothing. I also knew that I would have to set markers for myself for improvement. I wanted to be able to tell that I had gained something. I have run in the past, but not usually for myself. My goal was not to run in marathons or even races. I just wanted to be healthier.
In exchange for better lung capacity and stamina and the ability to eat more of what I want, I gave up sleep. And I’m not entirely certain that it was a good exchange …
In August, I started taking piano lessons. I’ve wanted piano lessons for most of my life, but the funds were not always available. Nor the time. Most especially NOT the actual piano. And I have devoured my first lesson book like I consume most of my other books. I cannot just dwell on one lesson/song. I find myself turning ahead and ahead and ahead. Again, I knew that I couldn’t just sit down and play anything I wanted. I knew that I’d have to be patient and work hard to get to where I wanted to be.
The most amazing thing is that I can see my gains. I’m starting to recognize the notes and the chords and where my fingers are supposed to go. The very thing I was most intimidated by is starting to come more naturally – sharps and flats. And I agonize over lack of perfection. Hahaha. Why should I even be worried about getting it all right? I’m just now learning. I’m doing good to get the notes right with some semblance to accurate count. Eventually, with practice, some of the other things like slurs and staccatos will be conquerable as well.
And you’re wondering where I’m going with this. “Spiritual transformation is not a matter of trying harder, but of training wisely.” I’ve been baptized. I’ve been confirmed. I attend church and Sunday School every Sunday. I used to go to every Community Group, Small Group, and Bible Study available for myself - picking one from among a few or many. And I wasn’t growing, advancing, being trained. I wasn’t learning how to be more anything. I was semi-fellowshipping. But you can do one or the other, but not both well. And there was certainly not anything authentic or life-changing - just standard answers. This is for me – my opinion.
I chose the least painful of a list of unexciting.
And when I got the gumption to do something better (for myself and anyone like me) OBSTACLE.
And then I fell into downward spiral. And I scattered. And it got worse and worse. And when things started to look/feel hopeful. Clobbered! No joy. No fun. No hope. No faith?
And this is NOW. I am in this chaos NOW.
And recently I began to feel that I was getting farther away from what I was meant to be. Even though I was doing more, (trying harder), I was feeling further than where I began.
And then chapter 3 reminds me that life, even spiritual life, follows a rhythm of consolation and desolation. And I am definitely in desolation and I feel that I have done something wrong and am being punished. But there is hope because it is only natural to live rhythmically. And there is the notion, according to C. S. Lewis, “It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be.”
Months ago, a friend reminded me that sometimes you can identify your passion by what makes you angry.
And my pastor suggested that where my joy is … there I’ll find my … well, my word – heart.
Very conflicting but true notions.
Then the book reinforced my thoughts … “Wise training respects our unique temperament and gifts.”
I can strain and strain to be something I’m not and be miserable. Or I can give it up to what is a natural fit.
Problem is – I’m not ready to claim anything. But I needed the hope.
I’m good at so many things, and I hate to watch others bungle something up that comes so easily to me. But there is a part of me that wants to give into the eccentric, ear-cutting off, mental, artistic side of me that turns people off. ‘Cause it would be so much easier to be distant and “crazy” than accessible and “crazy”. And then do I just not want anyone to be close? Do I not want to show my true colors? Case in point: writing a message that is my unconfident heart only to be replaced with something formal only to be replaced with my “closet clown” persona. I don’t know what is me anymore … Too busy being what everyone needs me to be and not what I need me to be. People Pleasers Anonymous anyone?
Even if I am unskilled in speaking, I am not so in knowledge …
2 Corinthians 11:6a (ESV)
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