It can look really messy.
The stripping of self.
Somedays it can look and feel like I'm completely falling apart.
But when my heart is right and my mind is steadfast, I know that really it's only the outer layers of me peeling off like old chipped paint. It's chunks of perfectionism, and people pleasing, and the desire to be in (perceived) control. As they fall they make a big dusty mess on the floor all around me. My face is flushed, my hair is fuzzy and my clothes are dirty from the construction going on. And in my weaker moments I'm tempted to believe that the mess means that the whole building is about to come crashing down.
Amidst the chaotic swirl that is my life there's an ever present heckler. He's a liar and he taunts me constantly.
"You are a wreck." "Look how hard this is for you; you are crumbling, you can't do this." "You are completely in over your head, you aren't anywhere near who you want to be, you are failing."
His whispers melt into my own as I start to dance with insecurity.
IS it chipping paint? Or is it structural walls? Am I becoming new, or being destroyed?
Panic sets in. Is this transforming process too hard to survive? It doesn't look like I'm really handling it all that well, why don't I seem to be getting better at this?
His voice comes strong and sure. Like muscles engaging in the core of my being.
"He will keep in perfect peace, Her who's mind is steadfast." (Isaiah 26:3)
I would only be failing if what I'd wanted to do was remain intact and polished all my life.
Instead, when I remember that really, what I want out of this life, is to be changed. To be stripped of my old paint; to be refashioned and refurnished into a newness that shines strength and dignity at it's core, that points glory to a God who transforms people. Well, then I realize that a little demo and construction is exactly what I should be expecting. And that caution tape and a few band-aids are maybe just part of the deal; that they actually may mean there is work going on.
Then I know confidently that my walls are not falling, that my foundation is not shaking. Selfishness is being stripped away, a love of this world and the things in it, is being pried loose from my heart like a crowbar to old stubborn boards. Paint is falling yes. So I may not look as pretty and polished, on the outside. Floor plans are being rearranged, yes. So changes feel foreign and sometimes threatening to the outlook and perspective I've become so comfortable with. But inside me is rising strength. Growing deep and wide are the roots of trust, of hope, of confidence in One who is GREAT.
GREAT: [ attrib. ] denoting the element of something that is the most important or the most worthy of consideration
And as the demo goes on and I shed exterior parts of me, though it can feel like it is ripping out the very things that make me, though it can look like it's making me all the more unsteady at times; truth tells me that all the solid foundations remain. And they are being reinforced and solidified and made even stronger to build up new structures and stories for this house of mine. One's much more fit to raise a family; fit to house and love the lost and much better prepared to embrace with gratitude the deep enjoyment there is to be had out of this life.
It's just amazing how messy the cleaning of a self can feel.
The stripping of self.
Somedays it can look and feel like I'm completely falling apart.
But when my heart is right and my mind is steadfast, I know that really it's only the outer layers of me peeling off like old chipped paint. It's chunks of perfectionism, and people pleasing, and the desire to be in (perceived) control. As they fall they make a big dusty mess on the floor all around me. My face is flushed, my hair is fuzzy and my clothes are dirty from the construction going on. And in my weaker moments I'm tempted to believe that the mess means that the whole building is about to come crashing down.
Amidst the chaotic swirl that is my life there's an ever present heckler. He's a liar and he taunts me constantly.
"You are a wreck." "Look how hard this is for you; you are crumbling, you can't do this." "You are completely in over your head, you aren't anywhere near who you want to be, you are failing."
His whispers melt into my own as I start to dance with insecurity.
IS it chipping paint? Or is it structural walls? Am I becoming new, or being destroyed?
Panic sets in. Is this transforming process too hard to survive? It doesn't look like I'm really handling it all that well, why don't I seem to be getting better at this?
His voice comes strong and sure. Like muscles engaging in the core of my being.
"He will keep in perfect peace, Her who's mind is steadfast." (Isaiah 26:3)
I would only be failing if what I'd wanted to do was remain intact and polished all my life.
Instead, when I remember that really, what I want out of this life, is to be changed. To be stripped of my old paint; to be refashioned and refurnished into a newness that shines strength and dignity at it's core, that points glory to a God who transforms people. Well, then I realize that a little demo and construction is exactly what I should be expecting. And that caution tape and a few band-aids are maybe just part of the deal; that they actually may mean there is work going on.
Then I know confidently that my walls are not falling, that my foundation is not shaking. Selfishness is being stripped away, a love of this world and the things in it, is being pried loose from my heart like a crowbar to old stubborn boards. Paint is falling yes. So I may not look as pretty and polished, on the outside. Floor plans are being rearranged, yes. So changes feel foreign and sometimes threatening to the outlook and perspective I've become so comfortable with. But inside me is rising strength. Growing deep and wide are the roots of trust, of hope, of confidence in One who is GREAT.
GREAT: [ attrib. ] denoting the element of something that is the most important or the most worthy of consideration
And as the demo goes on and I shed exterior parts of me, though it can feel like it is ripping out the very things that make me, though it can look like it's making me all the more unsteady at times; truth tells me that all the solid foundations remain. And they are being reinforced and solidified and made even stronger to build up new structures and stories for this house of mine. One's much more fit to raise a family; fit to house and love the lost and much better prepared to embrace with gratitude the deep enjoyment there is to be had out of this life.
It's just amazing how messy the cleaning of a self can feel.
8 comments:
Spoke to my soul. Thanks for being vulnerable enough to share (even with those you do not know may be reading).
it is amazing to me that over 10 years since you wrote the letters to me (from God) before my high school years, you are still writing things that happen to pinpoint an inner turmoil or struggle. I have been and continue to be so blessed by just the fact of knowing you exist in the world (since I don't get to see you very much). thanks for that.
I love you dear friend.
i'm realizing the more i accept the mess, which is me, the more content i am. thanks for sharing so honestly.
I read this today and couldn't believe that here were your words echoed.
http://archive.aweber.com/howwelove/EEIYo/h/How_We_Love_Newsletter_Vol_247.htm
Love it- thanks for sharing and blessing the rest of us!
I have been a long time follower, and found you from Anjuli. You are such an eloquent writer, and I very much enjoy reading about your cute family. It's hard to remember that the pruning of dead branches is what we want, and what God intends. When we lose sight of that, the "crumbling" seems to shake me to to the core. But when I realized that all of this is happening to make me more like Jesus, all that crumbling of who I see my self to be doesn't shake me hardly at all.
Thanks for sharing, its a great reminder!!
Wow....amazing.
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