climbing

A few days ago, I was talking to a counselor about life and how I wondered about progress and how I felt like a failure - I was back in his office, fighting the same battles, wondering when I would stop losing. I knew that I had been doing some things right. I knew that some parts of my life seemed to be fitting into place. But I was back in that office. "I just feel like I'm right back where I started. I just wonder if I'll ever move forward."

And that's when he told me this:

"Sometimes life is like a spiral staircase. You may see the same views twice, but that doesn't mean you're not climbing higher."

Sometimes life - our grief, our struggles, our victories - sometimes it's like a spiral staircase. We find ourselves fighting to overcome the same negative thoughts and behavior patterns that we were so sure were gone. We find ourselves suddenly plunged into grief over five-year-old tragedies nearly as fresh as the day they happened. We find ourselves climbing a spiral staircase.

Of course we have moments of falling backwards. Of course we may stumble. (I, for one, have always had a problem of tripping on stairs.) But the truth is this: our progress is not dependent on willpower or initiative alone. The only true progress we experience in any facet of our lives comes because of the grace God so freely lavishes on us. It's only when we accept this gift that we find ourselves taking the first steps up the staircase, steps we can take because Someone is finally holding our hands.

And as I think about how I've been seeing the same views twice, three times, hundreds of times, I'm forced to recognize that sometimes remembering and repeating is simply part of living and sometimes they're a reminder that it's time to hold His hand again. They drive me to a place where I understand that my "independence" really only makes me fall down. I need Someone to walk the stairs with me, to hold my hand, to lead the way. It's only when I come to a complete realization that I cannot legitimately do life on my own that I am able to unclench my fists, brush off my dirty knees, and allow him to gently pull me to my feet. 

Maybe we see the same views twice for a bigger reason than just life-cycles. Maybe those moments of heartache and hardship are chances for us to conquer a situation that nearly bested us before. Maybe when we see the same views twice, we can approach them as precious moments of learning rather than obstacles to be conquered. 

And let me just digress and say this - we don't have to learn these lessons alone. Déjà vu moments don't mean I'm a failure. They don't mean I've started all over. The definition of who I am and my worth is not dependent upon how many times I face an obstacle and win or lose. No. My worth lies in God's definition of me as His child - a child loved enough by Him that He offers to walk the staircase with me. Each time I face these moments, He offers to pick me up. He encourages me. He's ready to lead the way, and He's willing to carry me when the climb seems too long or when the next weeks, days, and hours seem like so many insurmountable weeks, days, and hours before. 

We can be grateful because we know that God is able to handle the sharp curves of life - we clearly cannot, we simply haven't the strength - but He does. He sees the twists ahead. He knows the trials we'll face two, five, ten times, and He's ready to lead the way. The question is - will we let Him?

worth it

Earlier today, someone suggested something to me and I ended up being totally embarrassed -- my face went red. And I mean bright red. It made me feel so self-conscious. And it was stupid for me to, because, honestly, it was a good suggestion. I thought about it after church and shared what happened with my brother. (He so tactfully pointed out that I should feel pretty stupid for getting embarrassed over something so silly.) As I began to think about why I reacted how I did, I began to notice that my thoughts kept coming back to this -- not worth it. You're just not worthy. Please don't waste your time thinking that something or someone good could happen to you because you're just not worth it. You've screwed up so many times. You've said too many stupid things. You're too awkward, and you have cellulite and acne. You are damaged. Incapable. Broken. Scarred.

As I thought about this for the majority of the day, I finally just had to stop. I was an emotional mess. God -- I don't feel worthy. I look back on my life and see that I have rarely felt worthy of being accepted, of being loved, of being liked. I am acutely aware of my unworthiness and fully acknowledge it. It's not humility. It's just a fact and something with which I constantly struggle. In moments like these and at the end of the day, I have no choice but to collapse in His arms and cry, to share my unworthiness with Him. Because, let's face it, I'm not worthy. None of us are. None of us are worthy of His love.

But I call you worthy, anyway, He says. You are worth it because you're Mine.

To be faced with a thought like this forces me to become even more aware of my unworthiness while at the same time experiencing a lightness, a freedom, and to become utterly grateful that I -- for some reason -- am the recipient of this grace and acceptance. My status as unworthy shifts to worth it when I realize the Creator of worth calls me valuable. I realize, too, that there is a distinct difference between unworthy and worthless. I will always be unworthy of His love, but I have never been worthless. I am a part of God's creation. He formed me. He made me. I can recognize my unworthiness and thank God that He has a grace outside the bounds of human comprehension.

But even realizations like this so easily get crowded out by self-doubt, by legitimate questions that exist in the human realm -- "But God, I fail you every day. I have done so many things to hurt you. I have blatantly turned my back on you thousands of times. I am damaged. How could I be anything but broken and second-rate?"

Because you're Mine.

My worth is dependent not on my accomplishments, my haircut, or my perceived goodness. It's grace. Simply that. Simply a gift that I cannot understand and must willfully acknowledge every day. Yes, I am worth it because He says so. I can be loved because I am His. My past, my pain, my anxieties, my abilities -- none of these define me. God says I am worthy. God says I am His. He died to prove it -- the greatest manifestation of true love humanity has ever and will ever experience. He makes me worth it.

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body

      and knit me together in my mother’s womb.

Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!

      Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.

Psalm 139:13-14 (NLV)

God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. 

We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children.

Romans 8:16 (The Message)