Sometimes the days become war. They blindside us with unrelenting blows from the mundane corners of every day life. There’s too much to do, too many friends to defend, too many fires to put out. There’s only stress, like a dull red blanket covering our eyes. And there is no longer any time. There is only going. Reacting. Surviving. Striving to save ourselves and our future. But where does all this driving lead us? To actual victory? Not even close. And we all know this.
So what deceives us into traveling the days as though we have strength enough to be the savior of our own lives? Do we think that because we cannot see God working to make a way for us, that He must, then, not be? Do we conclude that since God is doing nothing, then we must somehow make a way for ourselves?
Well. I do. He is my life; I have no other. Though on this point, I do love to pretend otherwise. And then, having pretended for a while, just as quickly I turn and hate the prison of defeat and isolation my pretense has created. I am a sore excuse for a deliverer, a grace-giver, a maker of ways. I am no good at it. The best I can manage against the daily onslaught is normal survival. And that’s just on the good days. No wonder Solomon cried, “Vanity! Vanity! All is striving after wind!” I have felt the sting of that wind’s icy breath, and I know it carries nothing but the stench a futility. Who can hold the wind in his hands? Better, I say, to let the wind hold you.
Carry you, in fact. Too often, we miss Jesus. Striving the way we do always makes the distance between us and Him ache with inconsolable longing. But the damnable part of that is that it doesn’t have to be so! He is there with us; He remains still. Patient. Waiting. Being God.
Of the pressures and distractions and decisions we must face each day, there is no end. But there is only one decision that truly matters. And that is a decision to cling close to Jesus, to hang trembling to His garments, whatever that aligns form against us at our backs. Choosing not to fight in our own strength. But to believe, and to rest. There is no other option. And no other victory.
Jesus, please forgive me for trying to be my own savior. I confess that I am weak. Please be my strength. I confess that I’m foolish. Please be my wisdom. I confess that I don’t know the way. Please make away for me and guide me in it.