It is easy, on days like these, for monkey-mind to begin stirring. The day is wide open with nothingness, and my irritable-restless-discontent kicks in. Negativity and anxiety can cascade like a waterfall if I don’t put a stop to them. My mood will match the weather if I let it have its way.
Fighting. Why must I always be fighting? Fighting for my peace, fighting for my rest, fighting to have joy. Fighting to crawl out from under anxiety and depression, fighting to take thoughts captive, fighting to get through the day. Always fighting.
A song I love says, “I see the light but never find the surface; I don’t know if I can swim no more.” I feel like that all the time. Like I’m in arm’s reach of health but just can’t quite reach it. Like I’m climbing a muddy hill, almost to the top but still slipping down.
Scripture is full of contradictions and opposing, alternate counsel. Sorry if that offends you, but if you read it you’ll find it to be true. It says we are in a battle, but the work is finished. It says we are to fight, but we are also to rest. It says we are promised victory, but we are also guaranteed to suffer. I try to find the balance point in all the tensions. I should rest. No, I should fight. I should fight from a point of rest while I suffer and wait for victory. That sounds right. It feels like a weird balancing beam, and I’m not very skilled at it.
What do you do when your brain is sick? When it just doesn’t work right? When you can’t think your way out of a paper bag? So much of my faith-life has been about the sharpening of my mind. What do I do when I don’t have that? When everything feels like fuzz and fog and contradictions that I cannot reconcile?
Days like these strip faith down to something more raw and real and naked.
The thief on the cross next to Jesus, he somehow believed, and while he was bleeding out with literally nothing to offer, Jesus welcomed him.
It’s like that.
Or like the Roman Centurion, who was standing in front of Jesus, and seeing how he died, said “There is no doubt this man was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:39). Just a gaze at Jesus, and faith sprang forward, and entrance into the Kingdom of God. It’s like that, coming back to gaze at Jesus again and again, so that faith will continue to spring forward. That’s how I fight through these days.
I’m thankful for the revelation that Jesus is a real person, not just a theological discussion. I used to love theological discussions, and sometimes I still do, but mostly now I see them as a luxury for people whose brains are fully functioning. Faith is not coming to a land of ideas, but to a real person who takes me by the hand and welcomes me just as I am, regardless of if my brain is working that day or not.
Thanks Jesus, that when my brain is not working right, I can come back to what is simple and true.
Jesus loves me this I know…
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