Nothing

Long, long ago, long before I was born, He was writing my story.  Writing each page with precision, wisdom and passion.  It was a beautiful biography, a grand adventure, one that would include a damsel in distress, a valiant hero, a daring rescue.  And eventually, although it has not yet happened, it will include a “happily ever after.” It is ironic, therefore, that my testimony, the theme of my story, can be summarized in one unlikely word: “Nothing.”

Defeated

Today’s path has been long, steep, and treacherous.   Discouragement, my archenemy, has crouched behind every bend, attacking without warning, releasing a barrage of deadly arrows that have severely wounded. I lay my head down, bruised and bleeding, out of breath from running.  Weariness from the unrelenting battle drives away all thought except rest.  Please, please, let there be a reprieve this night.

But no.  The crushing Despair, that hostile foe who is determined to destroy, continues to pursue, refusing to back down.  In the loud stillness of the night, it senses that this warrior is weakened, and seizes the opportunity to advance.  Accusing, mocking, belittling. 

I know my opponent is close.  I can feel the cold breath on my neck and smell its stench.  Always near, always ready to ambush.  I am terrified that I will lose the battle this time.  That Distress is too powerful of an adversary for me to overcome.  It is so tempting to surrender.  To just give up.  To be defeated.

Enough

Every day, almost without exception, the thoughts murmur through my mind.  Scoffing.  Criticizing.  Accusing.  “You aren’t good enough.  You aren’t wise enough.  You aren’t holy enough.  Why don’t you just give up?  After all these years of trying and struggling to become a better person, what do you have to show for yourself?  How much progress have you made?  Are you any more mature or godly today than you were yesterday?  Just admit it:  you will never be enough.”

It’s like I have this cup.  A cup that I made with my own hands.  It is cracked and stained and ugly.  It once brimmed with idealistic hopes and ambitious aspirations.  Now, there is nothing in it.  It has been drained by the harsh realities of just trying to survive this life.  A life that sometimes includes disease, difficulties, disappointments, discouragement.  My cup is empty.  I have nothing to offer.¹  The striving.  The efforts and energy that never seems to amount to anything.  Is it true?  Will it ever be enough?  Will I ever be enough?

Once again, as I have done so many times before, I come before the Lord, offering Him my empty cup.  And El Shaddai², the All-Sufficient One, fills it with Himself.

Broken Promises

She used to be fun.  Every time I would see her, she would have recently had an adventure with her kids, or was eagerly planning the next one.  The local zoo, the children’s museum, the nearby farm, the water park.  Her scrapbooks were full of her kids’ sporting events, dance recitals, school plays, and birthday parties.  She was the mother everyone wishes they could be.

Not anymore.  The joy is gone.  Now she is in a dark, oppressive, terrifying place.  It’s as if she has been tossed into the bottom of a deep hole, with no way of ever emerging.  No hope of ever seeing daylight again.  Now it takes every ounce of effort just to get out of bed each morning.  She struggles through the days, counting the hours until her husband gets home from work and can take over the simple routines and responsibilities that, for her, have become insurmountable and nearly impossible.

She sits next to me in the kitchen, a mere shadow of the woman she used to be.  “I can’t,” she cries, the tears streaming down her pale face.  “I can’t accept that this is God’s plan for me.  Why is He allowing this to happen?  Why does He hate me?”

A Healthy Heart

The slate of a new year stands fresh and clean before me.  What new promises to myself will I write on it?

I should write, “Eat healthier.”  I meant to do that, and for the first few days I even succeeded.  Selecting nutritious foods.  Exercising self-control.  But then, as I stood in the checkout line at my favorite little market, I noticed them.  The papery-thin dark chocolate almond cookies.  Well, there went my resolve.  Mmmmm!  They were worth every delicious calorie!

I should write, “Exercise more” on that little list.  I do enjoy being outside, and generally I try to exercise a few times a week.  But alas, the temperature has dropped well below freezing, the wind has become bitter, and the sidewalks are now slippery with a slick icy coat.  Much too treacherous for exercise.  Somehow the cozy chair next to my fireplace seems much more inviting.  And besides, I need to stay indoors where I can finish off that box of papery-thin dark chocolate almond cookies.  So much for a healthy start to my new year.  Sigh.

And that’s just the physical goals.  The aspirations that relate to the temporary things, like the body’s health, are really not that essential when compared to all of eternity.  So what about my spiritual health?  Are my heart and soul becoming fit?  Sometimes I feel stuck.  You know, like I am still struggling with the same “issues” today that needed work 25 years ago.  How can I grow?  How can I continue to become more like Christ?  Maybe if I just try harder, or have more will-power and self-discipline.  Then maybe I could get past the first few days of sticking to my resolutions.

A Quest for Peace

Before the eyes even open, it’s there.  Lingering, menacing, its approaching darkness threateningly close.  It’s a storm cloud that descends without warning, casting a dark gloominess across the day ahead.  Hope’s radiance may be struggling to shine through, but it is completely hidden in the shadows.

This ominous cloud may be Regret.  It is heavy with the tremendous weight of guilt, taunting its reminders of past decisions.  Roads that seemed innocuous and safe in the beginning, but with every step, every twist and turn, have long since led to a place of unintended consequences.  There is no going back.  That time can never be redeemed, and Regret is ever present, mocking and ridiculing the foolishness of yesterday.

Perhaps the foreboding cloud is Fear.  Facing an unknown future, feeling thoroughly unprepared and ill equipped.  This frightening cloud warns of impending storms, a deluge that threatens to consume, causing horrendous damage and destruction. What if the imagination’s worst nightmare indeed happens?  What about that possible scenario?  How will the heart be able to bear it?  The anxiety of such thoughts can be paralyzing.

Sometimes the cloud is simply Weariness.  The difficult circumstances of yesterday remain here today.  The battles that were fought so valiantly at the beginning have now become overwhelming and futile.  What’s the use of continuing the fight when nothing ever seems to change?  Not the slightest sign of victory is in sight.

The thoughts, the thoughts, the thoughts.  Like frightened rabbits, they bound across the meadow of the mind, first darting one way before turning suddenly and dashing in a completely different direction. They continue to scurry, frantically racing and whirling.  Never resting.  Will peace, that elusive tranquility and contentment so earnestly sought, ever be found?