The Editor in Me

I am going back and editing previous blog posts and I'm just flabbergasted

(yes, I'm using that word)

at how many mistakes there are. There are tons and tons of grammar mistakes!

Not just grammar mistakes either but tons of picture spacing mistakes, picture sizes that just look weird, strange lay outs in posts, and so on. 

I look at these past blog posts and the editor in me says, "What was I smoking?!" 

The truth is, I wasn't smoking anything, but it's just a reflection of how sloppily I was living my life. {and still do most days}

I recently posted about patience, grace and practice in Creativity. 

In that, I am sure you got a glimpse at some of my many personality flaws, and viewing all of these mistakes is just another reminder of those flaws.

 But this time, instead of Grace, I need a little rebuke.
A humbling reminder, to stop living life in a hurry. 

All of these mistakes make me reflect on my life.

I have lived my life so rushed. Always ready to move on to the next thing. Getting bored easily with the now and looking desperately for the future.

I have lived my life busy. Always going and going, seeking to fill each little empty space with something, anything.

I have lived my life running. And not in the good, life-giving way, of hitting the pavement, but the bad, life-draining way of spreading myself thin.

I have lived my life, eating and eating the bread of labor, that I have often missed the Bread of Life, when He calls me, to quiet myself and sit down at His table.

And to be honest, not only have I often missed that green pasture, cool drink of water kind of life, I most times have run from it.

Ran hard.
Ran desperate.
Desperate to keep going. To keep filling my life with rush. And busy.
Desperate to flee the foreign, stillness that is before God.

In the past 7 years that I've been a Christian, I 've said that all that running was toward God, was for God, was about God, but now, 7 years later, in the midst of an anxiety disorder,  I see that so much of it was running from God.

Running from His peace. Running from His stillness. Running from His Healing.

The truth is, I don't know what it means or feels like to just be at peace. To be whole.

I'm scared at what I will be left with, when you take all the messiness and chaos of my life away, and just leave me. At peace. Covered by and healed by the blood of Jesus.
I'm afraid of who I will become and what I will do, completely healed.

Would I go into the ocean, unashamed of my body, if I was completely healed?

Would I fly across oceans, unafraid, of the plane crashing to my death?

Would I face death, without fear?

Would I feel my heart flutter, and thank God for life, instead of rushing to the hospital?

The answers to these questions terrify me because I know the answer.
I know, in His presence,  I would live free, unashamed, unafraid,
and so I flee.
Because of that fear.
Because of that unknown.

But you see. The blessing of this anxiety is that I am at the end of my rope.
My fleeing is making me sick. It makes my heart flutter. My chest hurt. My heart beat speed up. It makes me start to sweat. And feel like I'm dying. And it's killing my spirit.

I'm done. I'm spent. I'm wasted.
And I can't do it anymore.
I can't run any longer.

I'm like one of those marathon runners that make it to the last 500 m and collapse.
People say it looks like their bodies just crumble. Like every ounce of energy has been sucked from their being. And some just stop there, crumbled. And some try to crawl across the finish line.
I'm like one of those people.

Except, I don't want to crawl across the finish line of my life. I want to run across, with the cloud of witnesses, arms lifted high!


And so.
I turn.
I turn to Jesus.
I ask for His life giving waters. The waters that He talked about, the ones that never run dry.
I ask for His life giving bread. The flesh that leaves me forever satisfied.
I ask for His life giving wine. The blood that covers me completely.
I ask for His forgiveness. For always trading broken cisterns, that can hold no water, for the Fount of Living Waters.

The editor in me wants to fix all these mistakes instantly but I know they will take time.
And so.
I ask for courage. Courage to stop running.
To be.
To live unashamed.
To live unafraid.
To smell flowers. And see colors.
To paint pictures.
To love others. And receive their love. Actually receive it.
To take the time to edit blog posts.
To trust Him.
To release control.
To just soak.
And be free.