65 miles
"We live in Holy Saturday -- one foot in Good Friday and the other in Easter Sunday. We are given newness out of the ashes of brokenness." [David Tryggstad]
I've walked over 65 miles in the past two weeks. It wasn't until tonight that I realized I had missed a simple question -- have I gotten anywhere?
You see, I've been walking and walking, hours upon hours, believing I was walking away from the past and walking into the future. Ironically though, I was on a treadmill metaphorically and literally. To face your battles, you can't just turn around and half-ass walk away. You have to actually FACE them. Head on, head strong.
I've been plagued with dreams ever since my grandma passed away. It's still all so fresh, and yet seems like forever. It's like living in a weird parallel universe, thinking I'll wake up one day and she'll be there, only to realize that's never going to happen on this earth again. I've had dreams where I've talked with people who have passed away, I've had dreams where God has talked to me masked as someone else, and I've had dreams about why people I care about had to leave my life. In all these dreams, those people talk to me. With the dreams about my grandma, it's different. She's still gone--and I wander through the bright sun with a heavy darkness. I was told that in order to deal with these dreams, I have to face the reality.
I'm someone who will shut a door I don't want to enter. I still hold my breath driving by the cemetery, and still can't bring myself to go out there since it happened. It's this intense fear keeping me away. What is this fear?
On a parallel note, I was talking with a friend about someone I met that has unknowingly gotten me through these past couple months. Funny how a stranger can make you want to work hard, live fully, be whole. Strange that "funny" is used to describe a situation that will probably never evolve.
What is it about people that come into our lives, with no warning, only to leave again untouched? What is it that these strangers move us in ways we are afraid to face? My friend had said something along the lines of "Why won't you do anything about it? Diana, what are you afraid of?"
Isn't that the truth? We are so fearful of how people might react--the more we care about someone, the more we step so carefully, as if we're walking on glass, afraid that one wrong word, one wrong move could shatter everything...unless we get past that point and into something real. Something substantial.
Last story! I had a friend text me awhile back questioning what the opposite of faith was. It's a long story, but something we had talked about in bible study. We had been told that the opposite of faith was not doubt, but certainty. I don't agree with that (a whole different debate) but the more I contemplated, the more I found that fear was a huge opposition of faith.
Like I said before, I'm the kind of person that will shut off all emotion, shut all doors to the past that hurt me. Only after I feel ready (and trust me, it's awhile) will I start to turn my head again. Like just holding your lips over hot water to see if you can drink it, or if it will still burn. Like dipping your toes in water to see if it's warm enough to jump, I will test my heart. Maybe it'll be a song that reminds me of someone, or old photographs, videos, letters, memories. Whatever it is, I'll just give myself a glimpse and then analyze the state of my heart. Only then will I know if it's safe to look around freely again. Only then will I know if I have to remain guarded.
So this crazy thing called fear. This faith-opposition. This thing Diana struggles with daily. What do I do about it? How do I look past this fear of reaching out to someone, this fear of visiting the graveyard, this fear of battling my own self?
It all has to do with Holy Saturday. With one foot in the death and darkness of Good Friday, terrifyingly stranded in the brokenness of our own hearts. With the other foot in the promise of Easter Sunday, wonderfully pulled free and given new life in the reality of the resurrection. You don't have to be Christian to see this beauty. You don't have to be atheist to doubt this reality. You simply have to be alive to embrace this enigma.
To answer my own question, I'm afraid of being too far down in Friday to be able to be reached and pulled out when Sunday comes. I fear the reality of the Lord. I am afraid that my faith will be overcast by the fear. Yet another great quote--literally, I'm afraid of fear itself.
Does this mean I don't think God is big enough to save me? Does my EXTREME hesitancy to talk about the Lord for fear that those who aren't Christians will classify me as "just another conservative shoving her beliefs down my throat" (trust me, I'm far from that political view, another conversation for another time)--does that hesitancy translate into weakness of my belief? Do I really think the Lord can't reach people without me, or can't save me from myself? Am I really that egotistical?
We tend to rattle off our prayers, caught up in the habit of speaking but never listening. Sometimes I forget that God is someone who just wants my time. Simply wants me. Simply wants you. For no other reason than love. It's a crazy struggle, this whole thing of realizing we are loved without reserve. Without having to DO anything or BE anything but OURSELVES.
As for this girl, she's simply grateful for the promise in Isaiah 41:10
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you....
I've walked over 65 miles in the past two weeks. It wasn't until tonight that I realized I had missed a simple question -- have I gotten anywhere?
You see, I've been walking and walking, hours upon hours, believing I was walking away from the past and walking into the future. Ironically though, I was on a treadmill metaphorically and literally. To face your battles, you can't just turn around and half-ass walk away. You have to actually FACE them. Head on, head strong.
I've been plagued with dreams ever since my grandma passed away. It's still all so fresh, and yet seems like forever. It's like living in a weird parallel universe, thinking I'll wake up one day and she'll be there, only to realize that's never going to happen on this earth again. I've had dreams where I've talked with people who have passed away, I've had dreams where God has talked to me masked as someone else, and I've had dreams about why people I care about had to leave my life. In all these dreams, those people talk to me. With the dreams about my grandma, it's different. She's still gone--and I wander through the bright sun with a heavy darkness. I was told that in order to deal with these dreams, I have to face the reality.
I'm someone who will shut a door I don't want to enter. I still hold my breath driving by the cemetery, and still can't bring myself to go out there since it happened. It's this intense fear keeping me away. What is this fear?
On a parallel note, I was talking with a friend about someone I met that has unknowingly gotten me through these past couple months. Funny how a stranger can make you want to work hard, live fully, be whole. Strange that "funny" is used to describe a situation that will probably never evolve.
What is it about people that come into our lives, with no warning, only to leave again untouched? What is it that these strangers move us in ways we are afraid to face? My friend had said something along the lines of "Why won't you do anything about it? Diana, what are you afraid of?"
Isn't that the truth? We are so fearful of how people might react--the more we care about someone, the more we step so carefully, as if we're walking on glass, afraid that one wrong word, one wrong move could shatter everything...unless we get past that point and into something real. Something substantial.
Last story! I had a friend text me awhile back questioning what the opposite of faith was. It's a long story, but something we had talked about in bible study. We had been told that the opposite of faith was not doubt, but certainty. I don't agree with that (a whole different debate) but the more I contemplated, the more I found that fear was a huge opposition of faith.
Like I said before, I'm the kind of person that will shut off all emotion, shut all doors to the past that hurt me. Only after I feel ready (and trust me, it's awhile) will I start to turn my head again. Like just holding your lips over hot water to see if you can drink it, or if it will still burn. Like dipping your toes in water to see if it's warm enough to jump, I will test my heart. Maybe it'll be a song that reminds me of someone, or old photographs, videos, letters, memories. Whatever it is, I'll just give myself a glimpse and then analyze the state of my heart. Only then will I know if it's safe to look around freely again. Only then will I know if I have to remain guarded.
So this crazy thing called fear. This faith-opposition. This thing Diana struggles with daily. What do I do about it? How do I look past this fear of reaching out to someone, this fear of visiting the graveyard, this fear of battling my own self?
It all has to do with Holy Saturday. With one foot in the death and darkness of Good Friday, terrifyingly stranded in the brokenness of our own hearts. With the other foot in the promise of Easter Sunday, wonderfully pulled free and given new life in the reality of the resurrection. You don't have to be Christian to see this beauty. You don't have to be atheist to doubt this reality. You simply have to be alive to embrace this enigma.
To answer my own question, I'm afraid of being too far down in Friday to be able to be reached and pulled out when Sunday comes. I fear the reality of the Lord. I am afraid that my faith will be overcast by the fear. Yet another great quote--literally, I'm afraid of fear itself.
Does this mean I don't think God is big enough to save me? Does my EXTREME hesitancy to talk about the Lord for fear that those who aren't Christians will classify me as "just another conservative shoving her beliefs down my throat" (trust me, I'm far from that political view, another conversation for another time)--does that hesitancy translate into weakness of my belief? Do I really think the Lord can't reach people without me, or can't save me from myself? Am I really that egotistical?
We tend to rattle off our prayers, caught up in the habit of speaking but never listening. Sometimes I forget that God is someone who just wants my time. Simply wants me. Simply wants you. For no other reason than love. It's a crazy struggle, this whole thing of realizing we are loved without reserve. Without having to DO anything or BE anything but OURSELVES.
As for this girl, she's simply grateful for the promise in Isaiah 41:10
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you....
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