The Week of Struggle

I would really like to believe that, in this holy pursuit, I would be holier. I'd like to feel kinder. I'd like to say that my flesh is dying away without a fight.

But that would all be a big, fat, nasty lie.

Because my flesh is thrashing around in an angry fight for survival.

I am testier. I am meaner. I am less patient. I am angry.

I feel rejected by everyone. I feel almost hopeless.

And I KNOW that my only option is fight it out; get to the end of this battle. Maybe there I will find some peace.

This is the hardest part - my only hope for freedom is to continually step away from that raging self-love and cling to the God who stands ON TOP of the crazy-ass waters.

So, in an effort to strangle my desire to let my selfish behavior reign again, I am writing this post. Because, if I put it out there with bold words, then the funky cloud that I am shrinking behind will dissipate. I will be forced to stop obsessing over my foolish behavior, my Popeye-strong desire to defend myself, and my equally strong desire to crawl under the covers and stay there.

This week is about communion.

This week is about the One who was broken, hidden away, and found again.

This week is about the old rituals that become the new celebrations.

This week is about remembering who I am.

This week is about remembering who GOD is.

And this week is, for whatever reason, is the week of my great struggle.

I am trusting that this week will also prove to be the week of my great encounter.

I am, without a doubt, still a big, fleshy mess, but I am setting my gaze on the Father...

My hope in his son...

My life in his spirit...

Help me, Jesus. You are the only Way....