Life isn’t what it used to be.
In the last year I started a publishing company, moved to a different house, started a new community group, and allowed some significant relationships to just be, even though the cost was the virtual loss of those relationships. In the past, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to make things happen. This year I’ve been allowing life to take residence in my heart in a much deeper way. I’ve allowed life to just be. It has been good in so many ways.
As my life encounters significantly change, I’m feeling the effects of that change. The stress over this last year has been significant. It’s not easy to change a large portion of one’s life, and I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone. But it happened.
In the midst of this experience, I’ve been having a conversation with God about striving vs. diligence. I’m a fairly ambitious person, so I’m not one to sit on my laurels and do nothing. My desire to make things happen continually creeps in. When I’m striving, I want to fashion the world in my own reflection. I want things to work like I tell them to. I want outcomes to happen as I desire them, in the way I desire them, with all the trimmings. And it just ain’t happening. And the cost is a deep sense of disappointment with my internal desires. It’s easy for guilt and shame to wander in beside me and just whisper in my ear, “You’re just not doing enough. You’re just not good enough. They just won’t love you if you don’t get it all worked out.”
I’m learning to sit with that fear and confront it. The conversations have been hard but good.
But when I sit with my Father, I’m consciously aware of who I am as a child of God. When I really listen, I’m reminded that I’ve been here before, in the midst of trying to make it happen. And my Father just laughs. “Why are you trying so hard?” I have no answer.
Diligence is a very different internal story than striving. In the space of diligence, I can’t make things happen. All I can do is be diligent with the things I have been given. What I’ve noticed is that even in the midst of my Father, fear is still present. My Father allows fear to speak to me, which seems counter intuitive to me. But it happens. Fear immediately runs to what could happen, and it’s usually the worst case scenario. Everything is magnified ten-fold.
But when I step into the trust space of diligence, keeping my eyes on the One who takes care of me, I have to let go of my belief about what could happen. And when I do, I feel a strange peace to continue. The worst case is even an option because I’m beginning to remember that even in the midst of that scenario, I am still my Father’s son. Nothing can separate me from love.
Because underneath it all I’m really just afraid I’m being a sucker for believing in God’s love. And the only way I can prove myself wrong is to believe.
