Tatters

I've been struggling a lot with depression recently. It's part of the whole "burnout thing" but it isn't the first time this has happened... it is the worst since I have been a Christian though.

I can't really estimate how long this has been around - it's hardly a binary state - but though life got particularly hard this last term it wasn't until the middle of June, when my degree ended and the change of pressure inevitably hit, that I have been steadily failing at keeping on with God... Often, you see, it was a way to draw near to Him; a place where being dependent resulted in intimacy, no burden was too great and every struggle could also be seen as a blessing. Not a place of perfection but somehow different to how things are now... where, though nothing much has changed in my actual world, it just sucks. I have been rubbish in no uncertain terms and I ain't gonna dwell on my Roman's 7ish tendencies (link). Nor will I exhort the Romans 18:28-ing (link) of them with any stories, though I have them (God is good). Rather I have an analogy.

It is of course resistance training. When you work out it isn't the rep's you can do that are building muscle, but the ones you really can't. Before I was coping, so up goes the pressure. Simple. I am getting strengthened for the next fight I gotta be in (link). Turns out the stuff from before wasn't enough to grow me beyond my limits. I signed up for it with some reckless enthusiasm about being refined and thus made ready to defeat the nasties in the world, and it seems that prayer gets answered... so I am broken, like the ragged, sinewy fibres of a pumped and aching bicep.

I am not going to tell you that I am ok with this. I sometimes am (rarely) and I will be in the future but it is chronically painful a lot of the time and I am very very shaky in my sinful - that is unloving, lifeless, hopeless and generally dodge - attitude and actions. My faith is a wreck, nothing seems to be working out, and I'd rather I was driving along just dandy down the motorway that is my life instead of stuck on a back road with a girt fat tree across the path... or some such. But something put into words by the father of Sam (link), whose tragic death can teach us all a thing or two about putting up with crap, has spoken to me with a far better analogy:

I had a thought today.

It may seem a little random to you but whatever.

As I was thinking about my faith it seemed that it was in tatters around my feet. shreds of it lay all around.

And then I thought perhaps a good way to picture what faith is like would be to imagine a warehouse full of expensive material, sillk or something like that.

Then imagine that someone had placed a bomb right in the centre of the warehouse and blown it up. bits of cloth would fly all over the place and the once beautiful rolls of silk would be chard, ripped and ruined.

and now imagine me (or you?) standing amongst all the bits, the rags that were once silk sheets but are now no more than tatters.

Surely that cant be can it?

Surely our faith is so precious that it must remain in tact. Surely there are things we cannot question!

As I am thinking these thoughts I run around and try to find matching shreds and try to piece them together but I reject the idea of trying to put them back together since they can never again be the beautiful thing they once were, they will never, ever be beautiful, silky smooth, unblemished rolls of perfect silk.

But thats all I have left.

So, I gather the bits together, I carefully and lovingly sew each piece to its partner, and slowly, very, very slowly I rebuild. eventually, after the most amazing ammount of effort I get to the point where I have connected all of the pieces together and now I have a roll of silk again.

But my roll is scarred, stitched together with unskilled hands, threads sticking out here and there, a piece connected back to front and not exactly pefectly straight edged. no longer perfect, not by a long chalk but its there. All my work has seemd to have been for nothing.

How can I present my broken and ripped faith to Jesus? how will this inadequate, distorted thing ever be good enough to get me into heaven? Can I ever use it again? How dare I? what would Jesus, the "author and perfector of our faith" think.

I have not the first idea but in fear, I approach Him and present what I have.

I hold out my faith, falling apart at the seams, ragged and torn to my Lord.

He reaches out a hand to take it.

His hands are the strong hands of a carpenter, hard skinned and knocked by years of practice, but most of all I notice his wrist, torn through, a ragged hole where a nail once ruined his perfect body, I look up and see his eyes, lovingly examiniging my broken faith, his head is marked by thorns, his back is ripped to shreds by a whip that broke his body and his side is ripped open by a spear "just to see if he was dead".

and then I realise, the author and perfector of my faith understands better than I can ever do what it means to be stood among the pile of shreds that was once your beautiful faith. He knows what it means to be crushed, broken and seperated even from God in a way that I will never know.

So now I can try.

At least I can try to pick up the piecses of my faith, find a needle and thread and start to work out how it all goes together.

Thats where I am at right now...

"For it is by grace that you are saved through faith and this is not the result of your own good deeds so that no one can boast."

any one got a needle?

Thinking like this doesn't come easy to me, mind; I don't always have the 'give-a-damn'-ness to want to do that, even having realised the grace both in this parent's attitude and Jesus's actions. But the very nature of that grace necessarily says that I don't have to bring anything myself to the table to be changed. Two days after starting this post I already feel a bit more alive... and if my experience and (meagre) trust is anything to go by then this fight is not over yet...

Stuck... in... traffic... and some songs from some Jacks

This analogy has been far too long in the making. It will be published tonight.

The lack of completion is itself symptomatic of where I have been "at": stuck in a traffic jam.

My past year (if not 23) has been pretty intense. The running theme, which were you a regular reader you would not have been able to avoid, is refinement: fire & purification; my weakness => His strength... and all that jazz. Seeing hope despite hate has been pretty key too, in fact most of Analogise That! seems to be about belligerent optimism in the face of despair.

Then lately, which I haven't really shared - a combination of being away and also being too tired and miserable to write - I have felt like I dropped below the hope threshold. Jack Johnson said I didn't always have to hold my head higher than my heart (link) and I glad I got his permission because I really haven't been. I've no longer had capacity to "dance on" (link) and worryingly far from feeling like God is making up for it. (That said, my trip to Russia was a crazy example of God being bigger than me, emphasized in particular by me being so tiny I could not even see it... but more another time). My last post was indicative of this (or tried t0 be) as I shared my lack of certainty in what I was seeing or believing. What was perhaps even more telling was the way I wrote in a sort of confusing and messy way! The fact is, my resources are low. I have nothing left to give and it has left me a *little* out of sorts.

The lesson, which I can so easily hear but no so easily apply, is one that says physical well-being is a really key part of emotional and spiritual health. After burning the candle at both ends for so long it is time to stop. STOP. There is a bible story about this dude called Elijah who had an amazing time seeing God at work (see here in 1 Kings 18 (link)) then, next thing you know, he is running afraid for his life and wants to die (check out 1 Kings 19 (link) if you fancy it)...

A moment for an aside about wanting to die: There's this new song by Just Jack (link) that I am still processing - lovely or not? I think it rather depends on if you watch the video but I know that like Elijah, and Paul (link), death doesn't at all feel like the worst thing that could happen to me these days. Suppose it depends on what death means to oneself. Anyway, back to the story...

So he falls asleep under a tree before an angel comes and feeds him, whereupon he sleeps and eats again. Following this he gets just enough energy to go hide in a cave, at which point he sleeps again. Now I know I've had angels looking after me, particularly when I was away (I'll write about that another time perhaps but I read a cool blog about angels (link) once, by a friend of a friend, if you're interested) and I sure as hell know I need to do a lot of eating and sleeping at the moment (where possible I've been getting up to have breakfast then going straight back to bed again - oh happy day!) and that, having barely gotten through some intense journeys, it is now time to hide in my cave and wait for it to be over.

God really spoke to me about this "low point" when I was stuck on the M25 for over 2 hours the week before last, in a traffic jam on my way back to Bristol. It was all about waiting for the wreckage to clear. Not just being patient but to be really making the most of the break... and to recognise that I was So Tired I was nearly asleep and it was probably better that I wasn't going faster than an intermittent 20mph. Enough risks have been taken so stop already. After 2 weeks of processing I can see that I am supposed to be in the queue and that the best way to live a life that feels like it's affected by metaphorical crashing is to not stress but rather accept the situation and get what I can from it. Turn up the radio, shut my eyes, then maybe read a book if I feel more awake and make eye contact with the cute passing motorist(s)! As with the traffic, I have a propensity to start off frustrated and willing it to stop but in time accepting and, following a change of perspective, beginning to appreciate the change of pace and lack of purposeful direction. Take advantage of the blockages, they may well be from an angel.

A good friend wrote a blog recently that was ironically opposite to this. I ain't gonna be passive aggressive, upfront I tells ya that it was annoyingly soppy about a road trip he was taking with his fab new gf! But I know really that it's cool to appreciate the good things in other people's lives and now I have had some sleep all cynicism has passed so I am once again happy for them and just loving the appropriateness of the metaphor that part of his "journey" was going on a journey :-) My "journey" is not the same but it's not supposed to be actually. Last time I tried to "accelerate home" I ended up overshooting by 7 junctions (link) and having to do a direct and humbling retrace. Whoops. Next time I'm not speeding anywhere till I have paid a lot more attention to the destination.

So I've been in recuperation mode, to the point that on Monday my dear mother came all the way to Bristol on the bus to drive me home in my own car. Bless her. Back in my cave with just enough energy to make it and be thoroughly attended by angelic(ish) hosts!
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All this said, I accepted a job yesterday that starts in a month! The 1st of August is suddenly upon us and I realise I need to get my life sorted out now so that things don't go horribly wrong when I enter the real world! It seems that the traffic is slightly starting to clear and the next stage of my journey, whatever that involves, looms. I feel able to blog again as I get into a slightly more even flow... and having only just gotten used to the stop/start motion. Better make the most of still being quite slow I suddenly see, knowing just how quickly a road can clear...

I leave you on some FUNNY (link): the horrors of traffic, the lust for other people's failures. It's a shame in a way that he's so close to real life but hey, at least we know the truth about jams :o)