Notice: If you object to religion or the discussion thereof, you may wish to try back another day. This blog post might not be for you.
The past few weeks have have been difficult for most Americans. It would be difficult not to feel something about what has been going on in Minneapolis and across the country. As it is, emotions have been running high, to say the least.
I’m not a person who deals with emotion well. You could say I’m not emotionally independent. I tend to absorb the energy around me, whether positive or negative, and allow it to replace my own. I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve yet to figure out how not to. I actually did pretty well initially. I was able to stay objective, sample some of the dialogue, learn a few things, adjust my thinking, and join with those in search of positive change.
But as the week wore on and the energy changed to more contentious and divisive I lost my objectivity and began to feel attacked. People were trying to force me into polarized camps, and I don’t do “reactionary” well. I usually just end up resenting both sides.
It all came to a head over the weekend. All that negative energy overwhelmed me and moved inward. Now it wasn’t just that the world was a terrible place, I was a terrible. My life was terrible. There was no real hope for things ever getting better, either.
Needless to say, when I started getting those feelings they quickly become a self-fulfilling prophecy, which just makes it that much harder to break out. I don’t know, and I’ve never sought professional advice, but I suspect it may be some form of mental illness.
It’s also a spiritual illness. I am a believing, practicing (or at least trying) Christian who finds a great deal of comfort, support and solace in Jesus Christ. And yet at times like this weekend I can feel like He has left me and doesn’t care for me anymore. I don’t want to believe that’s true, but it’s hard to ignore that doubt. I mean, nothing has changed. I still pray, study scriptures, and do the other things I’m supposed to do, and yet I feel…nothing.
As always, the light did shine again. Though Sunday began with me still feeling rather dark–in no small part because of the gloomy, stormy day outside–the light came on, slowly. Here and there little hints, little signs, little clues kept appearing, reminding me that the Lord knows me and was still there for me. By afternoon I was feeling okay again, and by the end of the day I was feeling pretty good. Yesterday was pretty good, too, with more of those little signs–what I have come to call “tender mercies”–scattered throughout the day.
This morning during my scripture study a section from the New Testament came unbidden to my mind (I was studying somewhere else entirely) where Christ is walking on the water to reach the boat where the apostles were, and Peter asks the Lord to command him to walk to Him on the water:
28 And Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.
Matthew 14:28-32, KJV
29 And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus.
30 But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me.
31 And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?
32 And when they were come into the ship, the wind ceased.
The connection was clear. I was Peter, and while I had still been praying and reading my scriptures through the past several weeks, my focus hadn’t been on Christ. I had turned away and was focused on the turmoil in the world. Having lost my concentration, I began to doubt. I began to sink.
I did call for Him to save me. He caught me. He’s got my hand again, and we’re headed for the boat. The wind is still boisterous, but that’s no longer where my focus is. At least for now. It must be really frustrating for the Lord sometimes when we’re walking along together and we’re like the dogs in “Up!” Squirrel! Or like little children.
I remember many years ago my father took me to work with him one day. I went everywhere he went, including in the big, scary freight elevator. You could see the walls going by, and there were big gaps in the corners by the door where something might fall through and be lost forever in the abyss. I was wearing cowboy boots that day, and I was petrified with the thought that my boots might suddenly fly off and fall down those gaps. I think part of me knew I was being irrational, but I couldn’t help it.
I think this past weekend was just like that:
“Lord, I’m frightened by what I’m seeing out there.”
Then look at me.
“No, I mean it’s really scary right now.”
Then look at me.
“Why aren’t you helping me, Lord?”
Look at me, please.
“Oh, there you are!”
(Smiling, but shaking His head)
(Walking along together for a few minutes)
“But….the world is still a scary place–“
Focus…
Whether we’re religious or not, spiritual or not, there is something central in our lives that gives us focus and strength. During times like these it’s easy to lose that focus, that centered-ness as we struggle to deal with what we see and experience. It’s not that we need to turn our backs or ignore what’s going on around us. On the contrary, if we’re going to be part of any positive change we have to be aware of our surroundings.
But at the same time we need to stay connected to our source of strength, our core, that inner divinity that tells us we can be so much more than what we are. Clearly, it can be very hard. Sometimes we have to admit that we’re not as strong as we want to think and we really need help, really need to step back for a bit and refocus ourselves. We need to rediscover who we are.
The “wind boisterous” will always be there. It’s not that we shouldn’t care. It just shouldn’t be where we focus.