Simple Love

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, so that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your care on Him,

because He cares about you." (1 Peter 5:6-7, HCSB)

~It's freeing to know that God doesn't have the same expectations of us that we have of ourselves . . .

In our own eyes, we may seem like a failure, like nothing we do ends up working out the way we hope or imagine. The disappointment or disapproval of others adds to this weight, at least if we let it. But how often do we stop to evaluate the truth of our feelings? Do my feelings indicate an accurate read on reality, or are they a product of my own faulty thinking? I find that sometimes they're a mixture—legitimate regret for poor choices I've made and the sorrow of loss that comes with them, and sorrow that proceeds from crazy lies that Satan loves to whisper in my ear: "You've never done anything right." "Everything you attempt fails." "Everything good that God brings your way, you mess up."

Most of the time, I'm not aware that I'm at least partially believing these lies. But when I spend time with God and lay my heart bare before him, completely open myself to him, I'm sometimes surprised at what surfaces. Tonight, I just felt sad, and I didn't know why. As I talked with him, I was able to sift through my thoughts and emotions, and see them for what they actually were.

I've made some major mistakes in the past, which have cost me dearly. I'm now in a waiting season as God is restoring my health, and in many ways, my entire life, and there's sadness over things that haven't been realized yet, like fulfilling my calling, enjoying marriage/family, and welcoming an end to pain and sickness. This surfaces sorrow that I feel deeply at times.

But a more profound sorrow comes when I believe the lies. It's a heavy sorrow that sneaks up on me when I'm not expecting it. Like at night, when I start feeling tired and no one's around, or when work and responsibilities so fill my day that peace eludes me. The common thread is that it fills up the space created by a lack of communion with God. When I stay in his presence, many of these lies are recognized and discarded as soon as I encounter them—they roll off my back. But when I take my focus elsewhere, they creep in, take root, and begin to grow. They blossom into emotions that lie just beneath my consciousness, affecting me so subtly that I'm not aware of them.

That is, until I step back into God's presence. When I'm laid bare before him, open to his Spirit, he does what he always does: brings life. Brings truth. Brings hope, and brings healing. He restores what was lost by my wandering. Again. And again, and again, and again. He is good—there's no one like him. In Mark 12:30–31, he reminds me that all he asks of me is to love—to love him, to love others. That's success in his book.