Sometimes I am stressed, depressed, oppressed, obsessed or some other kind of thing that does or doesn’t end in “essed”. But I think those things are usually more of a state of mind rather than the reality of being blessed. In my case I fail to see the blessed part of my life when those other things are taking over my brain.
In reality, I am always blessed. I just choose not to believe it.
To allow those things in my life, I have to literally push some of God and his blessings aside. Being stressed and worried, I have to take back some of the faith I place in God. To wallow in depression, I have to toss out some of the joy God gives me.
Sometimes it isn’t a conscious decision to push aside God and enjoy some of the everyday troubles that once ruled my life. Sometimes those old so-called friends sneak their way in, elbowing and squeezing through my good thoughts, through a crack in my thinking process. They find the places I haven’t given over completely to God and push in a little at a time.
The next thing I know, I am sitting at my desk taking an inventory of everything that God isn’t getting done for me not realizing that I have slowly, but surely, taken control again. My control is pretty chaotic and usually ends in insanity. I don’t want that.
God and his influence on my life, no matter how full of him I may think I am, is not a static state of being. It is a flowing presence. It fills the voids and moves me. I can’t be happy with a fill-up now and then and expect to not have a struggle with my old self now and then. Without a constant baptism, my new self gets dry and crusty and I start to age spiritually.
Psalm 18:2 The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my savior;
my God is my rock, in whom I find protection.
He is my shield, the power that saves me,
and my place of safety.
3 I called on the Lord, who is worthy of praise,
and he saved me from my enemies.
Most of my enemies live in my brain. They drag me down and try to destroy me from within. I have to do a lot of calling on the Lord. Those fellows I mentioned at the beginning of this essay have beaten every single thing I have ever thrown at them. Only God has stood on their necks and made them cry “uncle”. He truly is my rock, my fortress, my savior.
I need to live in a constant state of calling, seeking his filling and moving in me to rinse me clean of all the garbage that tries to undermine me every day. Turning to anything or anyone or anywhere else is futile and foolish.
New Hope for Dry Bones