I haven’t written really since April. I think the main reason is, I have nothing new to share. All the raw and rough conditions of my heart have already been displayed in my earlier blogs. The stuff I’ve thought about writing about are just repetative or more of the same struggles and hurts and problems. Its kind of depressing. I’ve been kind of depressing. It has been said that it is possible for people to complete this whole year of the “World Race” and remain unchanged. I’ve started to fear that that will be me.
Last month, in Columbia, I spent a lot of time inside four concrete walls with very limited view of the outside world, unable to leave, because of the safety risks. If you know me at all, you know that I do not do well couped up. I took to kicking a soccer ball against the walls of our hallway. It became a method of self-soothing, excersize, and a release of the many many frustrations and anxieties that continue to build up within me. I could kick that ball against the wall for hours- I considered doing it all night a few times. Abusing my body with an enormous outpour of sweat and tears. Thnking that if I kept at it, something would change. I could conquer my fears and anxieties and be rid of the frustrations. I could be victorious. I would somehow win. I didn’t. It helped me to throw out my emotions, but the other stuff was still there. It just made me numb.
The past 3 months I have become more and more aware of my inability to conquer my weaknesses, my brokenness. I think that it comes uniquely easy to me to share my weaknnesses, but only when I have the oppurtunity to make them an inspiration to someone. Or perhaps when my strengths are so overpowering, there is no doubt that I can cover my own butt. I can convince people of my strength, I can prove myself, I have over and over again in my life. It’s how I survive.
Lately, I haven’t been surviving. My strengths just keep failing. My self-sustainable image has been particularly hard to maintain. People aren’t seeing me like I want to be seen. I’m exhausted in my efforts to be who I think I need to be. I’m kicking that ball against the wall. Over and over and over again. Exausted with sweat and tears and failure. Unable to prove anything, or to change anything.
Yesterday, like many days in my past 3 months, there where no “official” ministry tasks for us to do. I spent much of the day in anger and shame of the “nothing” that I was doing. I felt unimportant, un-needed, and like I was wasting so much time. A lot of shame tends to accompany these things for me. I try to “rest” or pray or spend time in the word- but that is doing something for me, and it just seems selfish- I feel ashamed “needing” rest, “needing” quiet time, really “needing” anything for myself.
Because of my own shame, I internally shame all my teammates for resting, for taking care of themselves, for needing things like quiet time or a nap. The anxiety and frustration bubble builds, and there is nothing I can do about it. I put on shorts and my tennishoes, and gathered a soccer ball underarm, to go try to kick away the frustrations. I passed by the kitchen on the way to the front yard and Guatalupe, one of the ladies of the church that helps cook and care for us, asked me if I wanted to play soccer. I didn’t really know how to explain in Spanish to her that I was going to just do it to excersize. But somehow she thought that I needed someone to play with. Awkward.
So we went out in the yard and kicked the ball back and forth for about twenty minutes. Saying barely anything to each other, not really even cracking a smile. All I could do was think about how different this was than kicking the ball against the wall, and regaurdless of our awkwardness and inability to relate or understand each other, Guatalupe wanted to spend time with me. She wanted to share with me, and for me to share with her. There was a give and take. I would kick to her, and she would kick back.
I’m done kicking my pain, hurt and frustrations against the wall. They only bounce off it and come back at me in a million pieces, and I have to start over. When I kick it to someone else they can stop the ball- absorb the force that I gave it, and send it back with a different force.
Grace is something I have a hard time both giving and recieving. But it is what changes everything. I can try all I want to change myself, but without grace, I can’t recieve (can’t ever earn) life and love and belonging.
