shooting to the sky: life without chains (and other metaphors on anxiety)

I've been thinking about you...

You waking with anxiety, curling up at night with anxiety, and carrying her wrapped around your middle like a boa constrictor.

Squeezing out life with not enough time, not enough talent, not enough money, not enough friends, not enough...

I know it personally.  The pet who continually tears up your furniture and attacks your friends but you can't quite figure out how to get rid of it.

Or a quiet disease...

sap-the-life-out-of-you while you’re standing there smiling and running to the next thing and saying yes to one more activity and making a million disclaimers for your dirty floors and wondering why no one is responding to your witty Facebook post and thinking we really just need more ________________ and when I get the job and what if this doesn't work and trying to do better look younger sound smarter sort of plague.

When did we start thinking it is no big deal to spend days with our breath held?   When did we start saying, it's part of me...? When begin thinking it proof of a purposeful life?

Who taught us to live in knots?

There is a different way... people waking up in simpler spaces, not self-reliant but inter-dependent, not saving the world but loving a neighbor.  Working for food, but not gasping for breath.  Fewer options, greater peace.

You think I’m idealizing, maybe.  Maybe this is a different place and we just have to be this way?

I know that's what I believed, but I just don't anymore.  Not because I have any illusions about small Central American countries having it all figured out. They do not.  But because I'm becoming disillusioned with the functional belief that  GOD is to be admired more than worshiped, talked about more than known, acknowledged but not relied on...that we can be about His work without being WITH Him.  That really, on the plane of daily work and decision-making and accomplishing, it all depends on us being as close to perfect as we can muster.

But...What if He is GREATER than we have believed Him to be?

What if the God who was alive and holy enough to make Moses' face glow in the dark is still alive and holy?

What if I actually NEED a desperate way in this ordinary untragic moment?

What if I admitted I'm like a HELPLESS baby and can't walk 5 feet without running into an idol, apart from Him?

I remember Samuel, coloring at the table in San Isidro del General, singing:

I’ve got the whoooooole world in my hands,

He’s got the whooooole world in His hands,

I’ve got the whole wide world in my hands…

Hmm…like mother, like son...but all we really have in our hands is what we've been given to hold today...daily bread.

How do I begin to release my imagined grip on things?

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!  Save me from the poison of ego-rooted insecurity, prideful independence, control-grasping exhaustion, people-pleasing idolatry…misplaced affection..!

I am prone to bending my knee at the wrong altars.

You too?

He compassionately shines light:  He…the only god that will ever love me back.  And how little I need that which I thought I might die without!

The more that creeps into my really-believing consciousness, the more I feel I might just shoot straight up into the sky, leave the gravity of these chains behind.

And yes, I've used more than my share of metaphors in one post, but that too, for today, is part of the process. :)