I’ve become increasingly conscious of something that I do to handle inconvenient ‘feelings’. I do it for boredom, emptiness, loneliness, to just feel a bit of joy, a bit of a spark in an otherwise responsibility-filled day. It’s quick, easy, instant gratification. I’ve been quite clever, you know. I spent a while wrapping it up as ‘self care’, which is hilarious. And also partially true. Because you know…I’m in a stage of my life when I am single, a lone parent, no parents or wider family around to do these little expressions of love towards me. So there is a strong argument to say that it’s A-okay to do these little gestures for myself. And out of Gary Chapman’s five different love languages, it would come under the ’gifts’ category, which gives extra weight to the self-care idea.
Except that I know that there is a slight compulsive edge to it. There’s an itch, a restless distraction, an irritation that is settled, relieved by the online click of a delicious buy. It brings a literal spark to my eye and a spring to my step. It sounds suspiciously like addiction, doesn’t it…? A craving that when satisfied leads to a high. Except the high is short-lived. The item bought doesn’t fix anything because it wasn’t ever about the item, it was about the feeling underneath.
I’ve argued and justified my way around it because I’ve felt bad about it, embarrassed at the lack of self-control, the sheer need in the behaviour that I’m not handling well, when I’m normally measured, sensible, mature.
But recently there’s been a change. Instead of hiding it away in shame, dancing and jiggery-pokering my way around the uncomfortable truth of it, I’ve been just saying to Jesus right in the middle of it, ‘I’m doing it again, aren’t I?’. And in His God-With-Me, gentle way He’s replied ‘Yes. I know, it’s hard’. He’s sat with me, even as I click, keeping me company, reminding me of how loved I am and how He came for exactly this. For this need, this ache, this brokenness. That there needs to be no hiding with Him. I may hide with myself, hide from others but it’s not needed with Him. He doesn’t knock my crutches away. Doesn’t knock my feet from under me. Because He knows that I need these things, these crutches, just for now. I’m safe with Him.
But He steadily keeps whispering to me to remember. Remember who I am. Remember Who I was created for. Who’s eyes search for mine and Who can fill my gaze and fulfil every longing and ache so deeply that nothing else is needed. Because when I see Him clearly, see myself through His eyes, He begins to fill me so deeply and bring me to such overflowing full-heartedness, that I no longer need these crutches. I will finally throw them away myself.
There is no struggle that I manage alone. No moment that I am abandoned to myself. He does the opposite to what I would expect: He carries me and invites me to do less instead of more, no struggling or striving to fix myself but to just come away and rest with Him. Breathe Him in; let Him do the unwinding, the careful restoring, coming into the deepest parts of me and doing what He does best. Because He is my Maker, my Father, Lover and friend and there are no safer hands than His.