Saturday, 29 January 2011

Heavy is the opposite of light

Oh Lord.

Sometimes I wish we were nearly there. I wish the end was in sight and the answers to all the problems and the worry and anxiety and uncertainty and unease and difficulty and fear were all just a formality away. I wish it didn't matter any more or I couldn't remember, or all the anxiety had evaporated, or whatever the state will be when it's finally all over.


Nothing bad gets into Heaven, does it? Nothing that is not of You. So all those things - that feeling that I sometimes get when I wake up that there's something wrong but for a second or two I don't know what it is - those things won't be with us in Heaven. 

I know that You don't want us to be weighed down with them here, either, do you Lord? I know that every time I lay in front of you this enormous pile of worries, you smile and assure me that it's OK, it's all taken care of, if only I would trust you.  It's what you do, isn't it?  You cast out darkness and bring Light. You take away heavy burdens and make them light.

And I smile and thank you and say the right things and then just before I leave I pick them up again and take them off with me.  Sometimes I even leave them with you for a while before I sneak in under cover of darkness and grab them back. 

I just can't do it. 

I just don't know how to be the free person you want me to be. I know that I would be so much more use to you if I could stop all the fretting, I know that I would be a happier, more lighthearted soul; I know that I'm not doing as you tell me to do. I know what a witness I would be if I were the sort of person who didn't worry about things and I could say that there's nothing to worry about because I have a God who takes care of me. 

I know how arrogant it sounds to be unable to leave my worries with you as it implies that I don't trust you to take care of them. And if I can't trust you, who can I trust? I know how selfish and spoiled it sounds to have so much and yet still be complaining. There are people out there with Real Problems after all.

But all these things that I know don't seem to make the jump from my head to my heart and so although I know them, they don't change the way I feel.

I worry. 

Some days I feel relatively OK, and I can hold it all at a distance and concentrate on something else, and be happy, content, lighthearted; but without fail the things I'm anxious about catch up and climb back on board and half the time they bring friends too. Some days I feel so heavy. I've lost weight recently but on days like today I feel that I've just replaced it with 'stuff' that I carry round. 

Help me, will You? I'd love to get this sorted while there's still some life left to enjoy. I'd love to get a glimpse of the life you have planned for me without all the rubbish that I lug around in my head. Why can't I get it cracked? I know people who seem to have it sorted; what are they doing that I'm not?

Hmm.

Why do I feel vaguely uneasy at the possibility of an answer to that question? Do I really want to know? Do they spend so much more time with You than I do? How much time do we really spend together? Is that it?

Would more of You brush off on me if I spent more time in your presence? 

That sounds like a no brainer, doesn't it? That was a rhetorical question, by the way. No need for wise nodding with a wry expression, Lord. 
***
There's been a long pause here. I've been sitting here uncomfortably contemplating that I spend so little time listening to You that you could be waiting to tell me all the answers to my problems and I haven't been around to hear. Is this what it's all about, Lord? 

I do trust you, I do. I suppose I'm just going to have to keep trying.

I'm needing some help, here, please.



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