Getting Untangled

“So this is the picture I have for you… You know a necklace that’s all tangled in a knot or cord? You can’t try and stretch it out until the knots are worked out or it pulls tight. If you RELAX the cord/ necklace the knot starts to become more manageable. But as you loosen a section of it others might tighten. If you loosen each section a little at a time until you can see which ones need to go first to undo it you will find rewarding success but if you get concerned with time and impatient you will struggle with pulling too hard at the wrong spots and prolong the process”

This hits deep. Clarifies so much of the scramble in my mind. Somehow calling out the knots and chains that bind untangles them.

I’ve been tangled in so many messes I can’t even define what exactly has me tripping over my words and thoughts. I’ve written a dozen half-finished blog posts. It’s not writer’s block exactly, but rather a hesitance to speak what I want to speak. I hesitate to say words that might cause someone to like me less; to look at me differently. It’s fear.

I start a new post:

It’s all in your head; your imagination. It’s not real…

And I start to post on fear…but I find fear in the posting about fear so I abandon it and start again.

I was late again, rushing through my day constantly chasing the next thing. But in my haste I didn’t think through the whole process…and now I was stuck. 

But my post on pride became just as stuck as my car was that day.

So on my ninth attempt at a blog post this week…I look at how each previous attempt was a pulling and teasing of a fine-gold strand. Willing it to come loose without having to undo them all; a faster way. But maybe I have to figure out the whole mess before I can post on a single thing. Maybe the point of that timely and fitting text was to remind me I’m loved no matter what the mess looks like. The tangle can be redeemed.

I am afraid to post about the real war in my head; it’s scary and vulnerable. And pride is in that hesitation too. So really I’ve been trying to write the same post nine different ways; avoiding the most painful topic. Like a loop of a necklace that you find is attached in impossible ways; weaving between different sister-chains.

So here is my vulnerable. My fear and pride and reluctance post.

I’ve spent weeks now trying to get everything in order so I can get to everything else. Striving again, and trying to make sense of the to-do list.

Then right of the middle of this overwhelming mountain, I find myself getting defensive because someone didn’t agree with me.

And the character revealed had very little to do with the other person. In that moment I wanted to yell,

“Who do you think you are? I know what I think and why, I have all the experience I need to make good decisions!”

I didn’t yell, or take the high road. I stewed. Held on to it for far too long. I mulled over how good it would feel to say those things out loud, how right I was and how ignorant they would feel when they saw it.

Oh.

I paused. And then I saw it. I saw the venom in my words and the daggers in my tone. I may not have said any of the things I was daydreaming about, but I was still surely responsible for each and every one.

“Lord how did I let that become so important so quickly, start letting pride and hurt speak for me?”

And He brought to mind the tangle of necklaces. Pull on one and tighten others. Tension threatening to break.

and I am broken. I don’t want to react this way– to be forever chasing time and accomplishment.

To be forever trying to get it perfect so that I can get it right.

To find out how to be successful before I learn to be kind.

I have been chasing and playing catch-up for so long I don’t even see the traps until long after I am in the middle.

The price of striving for an appearance; is rest in the Father.

Oh but how do we get there? Get to that place of rest? What about all the things that have to be done? The things that legitimately need to be done for me, for family, for life? I know nothing is more important than my relationship with the Father, but aren’t I sacrificing things to idols worth far less?

Pride.

I sacrifice the kind thing, for words that might bring me temporary value.

Seeking worth in my ideas and what I do because people don’t see me.

But why? He sees me perfectly! He already knows my value, I don’t have to convince Him of anything. Why do I take Him for granted so?

I push the limits of time and exhaustion because I refuse to settle for less; because pride has been my master. And there is shame right behind him.

The only way to untangle this mess is to take it to the Lord. To offer up my pride and the mess it has made, to offer up the whole thing shame and all. Nothing held back. Just stop running crazy-scared and admit that I need help.

…but I broke it, it’s my fault it’s a mess anyway.

And here is the other part of this whole mess.

I’m afraid to take it to Him.

I know He loves me. but do I know that I know?

What is going to happen when I take this whole awful chaotic mess to the hands of my Father? I deserve the scolding, the reminding of incidents past, the consequences and punishment. I can feel them coming. I’ve been caught lying about the Father, listening to all the bad influences, and trying to hide my mess. I deserve to be grounded, have extra chores and be ridiculed.

The truth is I have been avoiding bringing it to Him because I fear Him and His reaction.

I can’t anymore. I want to be close to Him and I can’t if I’m busy running.

Lord I have been running.

(I know.) 

I am scared of your reaction

(I know that too.) 

I have been trying to clean it up so I can show you that I am sorry.

(I was there.)

I go silent, tears brimming.

(But dear daughter, don’t you know that I would have rather helped you clean it up than seen you hurting apart from me? I don’t condemn you for your mistakes, I would have you close to me, in relationship with me. Come here dear one, share your heart. It’s okay, I love you. I always have and I always will. It’s not about you being perfect, you are on a journey and these obstacles and achievements are part of your story. They are not who you are. Who you are has never been a question to me. Now let me untangle this while you rest.)

And I want to curl up here and cry it out. I just feel awful for making the same mistake again.

“But I can help, it isn’t yours. I don’t want to waste your time; cost you anything. It’s my sin, my mistakes, my mess.” I counter.

(I knew the cost of being a Father before I became one. It is one I took up joyfully. You bring me delight and joy. This mess has already been paid for. I know you don’t see it yet or understand, but you will. Just settle in, rest. I offer grace for all of this; but I do not force it on you. Will you sit for a while longer and let me soothe your hurt? )

“I don’t feel worthy of this Lord. I don’t feel like I can just let it go.”

(I know.)

“How do I surrender it?”

(Just like this. Just be still with me a while)

We are His. He is not judgmental or angry like we paint Him to be. If we spent time with Him just listening to His voice we would know. We get busy and forget, we go days at a time without speaking to Him at all, though He is always there. But He is patient, and kind and loving. Even still He waits for us to call to Him. And when we do, He is waiting for us to fall into His arms.

Oh, how He loves us.