I try to push myself and do well until suddenly a part of my brain just seems to shut off, and I stop caring entirely. Sometimes the rest of my brain is yelling, SCREAMING, for that part to WAKE UP and try something! But it won't. I end up in bitterly frustrated tears because I can't force myself to ACT. I feel like a ghost looking at myself in exasperation and wailing in agony as I watch my grades plummet and my life fall apart under my inattentive fingers.
Some days I just want to buy a ticket and hop the first plane home. To just give up, because it stopped being worth it a long time ago. And then... I remember why I'm here. Why I'm pushing myself through this morass of homework and painful self-hatred every single day. Because the Lord loves me and can see my future clearly, the future I can have if I keep trying.
I have days where I feel like the scum of the earth, sucking up people's tithing money and doing nothing useful in return. A parasite on the world. Lower than dirt. Then I remember that I'm a daughter of God, and he has a plan for me. I might be dirt, but he loves that dirt dearly and wants that dirt to be carried on the winds of change, landing in some distant place and growing something amazing...
Showing posts with label struggle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label struggle. Show all posts
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Wall of Strength
Slowly, methodically, a man slaps mortar on a brick, and places it on a short wall. Rows of them lined upon each other, drying in the sun. A fierce wind picks up from nowhere, and blows down part of his wall. Patiently, the man rebuilds the section; painstakingly placing each brick by hand. What is the man protecting? A small tree grows within the walled area, its branches reaching toward the sun, but its trunk not yet strong enough to survive. The man wishes to protect this tree, but things keep interfering. First the wind, now a stray cow knocks down another part of the wall.
Starting to despair a little, the man resignedly repairs that section as well, feeling as though his work is never done. Shortly thereafter, it begins to rain, and the man packs up and heads home. The next morning he returns to find his wall has dissolved into a mass of brick and muck, laying in a vague circle around the pathetic little tree.
Most of the morning is spent removing the wasted materials, and the man sits down for lunch, pondering his problem. Each time he repairs the wall, it gets broken again, and the rain tore it down entirely. What was he to do? Staring at the tree, pondering in his mind and in his heart, a plan began to form.
That afternoon, instead of working on the wall, the man dug around the tree, and fertilized it. He then went home. In the morning, the tree looked no different. He began to build the wall again. During lunch he had the same nagging idea, and he spent the afternoon pruning and caring for the tree itself. The man found that by building only in the morning, the wall was mostly dry by night, and completely dry by the next morning. The weight no longer made the wall weak. Days progressed into weeks, and eventually the wall was finished. Stepping back and gazing upon his masterpiece, the man was astounded to find that the tree was still taller than the wall. It had long leafy branches, and lovely buds were forming into little white blossoms.
He had been so preoccupied with the wall, and caring for the tree, that he hadn't noticed its growth.
And so it is with our faith in God. If we spend all of our time protecting our beliefs from others, our faith languishes without nourishment. But if we spend equal time between strengthening our will, and growing our faith, then our faith will be able to withstand: the winds of change, the sudden buffets of attack, and the slow painful erosion of doubt.
Starting to despair a little, the man resignedly repairs that section as well, feeling as though his work is never done. Shortly thereafter, it begins to rain, and the man packs up and heads home. The next morning he returns to find his wall has dissolved into a mass of brick and muck, laying in a vague circle around the pathetic little tree.
Most of the morning is spent removing the wasted materials, and the man sits down for lunch, pondering his problem. Each time he repairs the wall, it gets broken again, and the rain tore it down entirely. What was he to do? Staring at the tree, pondering in his mind and in his heart, a plan began to form.
That afternoon, instead of working on the wall, the man dug around the tree, and fertilized it. He then went home. In the morning, the tree looked no different. He began to build the wall again. During lunch he had the same nagging idea, and he spent the afternoon pruning and caring for the tree itself. The man found that by building only in the morning, the wall was mostly dry by night, and completely dry by the next morning. The weight no longer made the wall weak. Days progressed into weeks, and eventually the wall was finished. Stepping back and gazing upon his masterpiece, the man was astounded to find that the tree was still taller than the wall. It had long leafy branches, and lovely buds were forming into little white blossoms.
He had been so preoccupied with the wall, and caring for the tree, that he hadn't noticed its growth.
And so it is with our faith in God. If we spend all of our time protecting our beliefs from others, our faith languishes without nourishment. But if we spend equal time between strengthening our will, and growing our faith, then our faith will be able to withstand: the winds of change, the sudden buffets of attack, and the slow painful erosion of doubt.
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