Saturday, June 13, 2009

Fear vs. Trust

I have to admit something.  I hate admitting things. I prefer not having anything to admit. Maybe I shouldn't admit it.  Maybe I'll call off this post.

Maybe it's not really so bad.  I just like everyone to think that I have it all together with all the loose ends tied up in pretty little bows.  I hate any small sign of weakness, whether I'm admitting it to myself or others. Not that anyone has any illusions of my having it all together.  Most of you know me too well for that, and the rest of you may have read some of my posts bemoaning singleness.  Here's another loose end that I'm going to let hang out and flap in the breeze.

In the last few months, I have found myself not caring.  Not any one thing in particular, but a lot of things in general.  I didn't care how long my dishes sat in the sink.  That's nothing new. My dishes will sometimes sit for a while.  But usually I'm at least a little disturbed by it.  I was able to ignore it and it didn't bother me in the slightest.  There were a number of little things that I simply didn't care about.  I found myself easily distracted, but I didn't care.  I had a really hard time paying attention at Mass, but I barely bothered to try to pull myself back into it.

The healthcare professional in me thought, "Huh.  Maybe a little depression."  But my gut (or perhaps the Holy Spirit) was telling me that response may be slightly true, but was also mostly a copout. 

Have you ever felt the Holy Spirit "speaking" to you?  (Great.  Now I sound like a fruitcake.)  If you don't know what I mean, it's hard to explain.  It's like a gut feeling, or some word or phrase that someone says that smacks you upside the head.  Any number of things, but if you have experienced it, you know exactly what I mean, and if you haven't, you're going with the fruitcake theory right about now.  

Anyway, my point is, in any number of little ways, I would feel the Holy Spirit nudging me to be faithful in the small things; keeping my house clean, keeping up with my paperwork.  My response was classic passive-aggressive:


I did not care.  I didn't know why I didn't care, but I didn't care enough to find out.  

Whatever.  I'm going to go watch some more shows on hulu now.  My food can rot, my dishes can become a science experiment in the sink.  I do not care.

Luckily, God does care, and He cares enough to keep the spark going.  Finally I was able to say to Him that I didn't know what was causing my ennui, but insofar as it was stepping between me and Him, I did care, and would He please show me what was going on.

What is going on is that I fear.  I fear that I will be stuck in this rut forever.  I fear that I will always be single.  I fear that it will keep getting harder and never get any easier.  I fear a lot of things.  Petty, small, ridiculous things.  That's what He showed me first.

Then, because I'm not smart enough to recognize it on my own, He showed me that fear is that it is also a lack of trust.  I wondered today if there were any walls in heaven.  Because I was wondering if God was beating His head against a wall today about the number of times I fail to trust Him, even though He has showed me over and over and over again how worthy He is of my trust.

And He is so worthy of that trust.  I realized that in a way, I was defying God by not taking care of the small things, because I was telling Him in so many words that it doesn't seem to matter at all.  If He wanted me to care, maybe He should do something to make things matter.  

I'm glad God doesn't give up on me when I'm being stupid.  Again.  Now I can do the little things and care about them again, because they do matter.  They are a little way to trust God.  And I need little, because I'm to weak for big.

1 comment:

  1. I love love LOVE the way you write. Thanks for being so honest and so easy to relate to. Love you.