Change.
Oh, how you terrify me.
You grip me at the throat and make me feel like I can’t breathe, can’t think, and can’t move. You try to convince me that Jesus is unkind, unloving, and untrue to his character.
Change, I fear you.
I fear you because I fear the loss of the things that come because of you. Loss of friendship. Loss of steadiness. Loss of peace. Loss of routine. Loss of identity.
But if I was secure in my identity in the Lord, you wouldn’t scare me. If I was fully confident in the Holy Spirit inside OF me, there would be no more fear. Because the Spirit I have is full of power. The Spirit inside of me knows that it’s loved and therefore loves others in return. The one who calls my body “home” is disciplined in believing that you are true, constant, steady, and unwavering.
Change, you make my desire to control feel as if it’s the only option for survival, happiness, and enjoyment of life. Change, I fear that if I don’t control you, you’ll somehow rip my joy away. So, I find myself holding onto seasons more tightly than I would hold onto the hand of a dying friend. And I keep my grip, even when that season has ended. I keep my grip on something that is no longer filled with life… because, I fear. I fear the shifting and shaking and difference in routine. I fear the replacement of deeply intimate relationships for new, surface-level ones. I fear the loss of friends in my life, and I fear the loss of myself in other’s lives.
I am replaceable.
At least, that’s what I believe.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. The Bible tells me, “you are precious and honored,” “holy and dearly loved,” “never alone,” and “fearfully and wonderfully made.” I know. I’ve known those things my whole life.
But I don’t believe them.
And, Change, that is what you uproot in me. You are a constant reminder of how unsteady I am in what I believe about my God; what I believe about myself. I know that God loves me. I know that he is trustworthy. I know that I should be filled with hope because of him. I know that I should have confidence and faith that he is who he says he is.
But I don’t think that I do. Because if I did, Change… you would not create fear. If I believed those things about God – really, truly, deeply believed them – you, Change, would produce trust in me. Confidence in me. Joy and thankfulness and hope in me.
Instead, I allow the enemy to steal, kill, and destroy the very things that God has created to bring me life. I allow myself to sit deeply in fear. I just let myself SIT THERE and throw a little pity party. I pout and whine about how nobody understands me, how lonely I feel, and how angry I am. I allow stress and anxiety take over my thoughts, rather than peace and stillness that comes from confidence in the character of God.
Hey, Change, you suck. You really suck. You’re uncomfortable, tiring, and grief-producing. You exhaust me emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Change, you make me weak. But the Lord loves me enough to refuse to allow you to control me anymore. He loves me so much to make me aware of what I feel and think so that I can FIGHT.
So fight I will, with the fiery authority that comes from the Holy Spirit in me.
Change, you’re still hard. I still try to ignore you, run away from you, and control you. You’ve made me so weak.
But I’ve realized something about weakness: it is the only thing that makes me perfect.
You see, Change, I’ve strived for “perfection” my entire life, and failed. Face plant, after face plant, after face plant. And when I run away from you rather than THROUGH you, I am refusing perfection that my Father wants forge in me. When I am at my weakest, that is when I show the least humanity and the most of the Spirit. The less I rely on myself, the less strong I am, the more of Jesus people will see in me.
I only want people to encounter the Spirit of God when they see me, talk to me, and encounter me. And – you see – Change, that will only happen when I fight against my fear by embracing you fully.
Change, you thought you could convince me that weakness was a bad thing. But now I know… weak is the most powerful thing that I can be. The weakness I feel when you come, when seasons change, when life runs its course brings me to choose surrender.
I don’t WANT to do anything else but yield myself into the gentle hands of my Father. He will deal with me tenderly where you only dealt with me fearfully.
Change, I refuse to run from you anymore. I will only run into the arms of my Pops.
Yeah… this is where I’m at. Hurting and learning. Being pressed and crushed and poured out. Being given new life. Praying Jesus uses my words to further his glory. Love you people.
-Lyss
