I hateeeeees it (in my best Gollum tone of discontent). So very much. I hate failing because so often it's preceded by feeling like I'm flailing. Ugh. It's awful. Typically I blog after I've come to a conclusion, or some sort of processed resolve. Not intentionally because I want to look like I have it all together, but because often times the conclusion is where the crystallization or realization takes place for me.
Today's different. Today I'm flail-failing. And I'm blogging not with new ideas, pathways, or third alternatives but in the middle of it. Care to join me in the mess? :)
Ever since returning from the artist retreat in San Antonio I've craved an artist space. While I was there I finally experienced the divine glory of what a studio can be like, and I've longed to have somewhere to create and call my own. But I'm still struggling to call myself an artist (gulp). I should be over that by now ("shoulding" on myself is for another post), I tell myself. And that is where I get stuck. I Google a few ads on CraigsList, or if I'm feeling really brave I send an email of inquiry (like yesterday. Not today).
Then I read this today, and it's really gotten under my skin:
“It is not fear that stops you from doing the brave and true thing in your daily life. Rather, the problem is avoidance. You want to feel comfortable so you avoid doing or saying the thing that will evoke fear and other difficult emotions. Avoidance will make you feel less vulnerable in the short run but, it will never make you less afraid.”
The thing is I really truly believe God is in this with me, that He's for me, that He's been the one providing the tools and resources and connections I've needed. But all this believing gets me nowhere if my heart isn't on the train. And right now it's looking at it's ticket, steam blowing from the engine room, and wondering if it's safe to get on.
What Harriet, and other wise folks say ultimately, is: it isn't. It isn't safe. And Jesus doesn't promise safety. But He promises Himself to us in it; good or bad, He's on the boat with me. I can say for the times I've stepped out on the water to His invitation, in those places I'm less afraid. The needle of fear has moved downward. But when I get stuck, on a day like today, it's because I've looked at the massive ocean behind him. Even now, as I blog (aka. journal my interior process), I sense His gentle reminder that He didn't say I have to do it all on my own, or by myself, or that I can't be weak. He's just inviting me to reset my gaze, back on Him.
Maybe I'll send another email.
Talk with me...