this weight i have gathered to me. it lives under my skin and it’s discomfort is my brokenness in kilos and pounds.
i do not know how to set it down. it has settled so far into me i sometimes wonder if it is:
what i am meant to carry.
really who i am.
what i deserve in return for disbelieving my beauty. for not loving well with so much love offered to me. for choice after choice of wrong. for misdirection and the parts of me that i thought wasted.
there is in-this-life healing god has handed me. layer after layer of grief and loss and stuck he has peeled off painfully with big love. grace smeared over my life and the round and round wrapping of forgiveness.
but the healing? it shouldn’t touch this. because this was my fault. my choice. my doing. my prison built brick by brick.
one bite at a time. swallow after swallow of anxious and discontent and unhappy and hopeless. fork lifted over and over again to stuff me with avoidance. selfish. the numbing of full. all to feel less of i-don’t-belong-this-is-too-much-i-can’t-handle-it-i-don’t-want-to-be-here-i’m-not-worth-it. comfort that turns to ashes when the light shines on it.
and god says lay it down and i hand him everything but. because this? this is not worth his healing. his time. his presence.
what my heart is shouting. i am not worth his healing. his time. his presence. i know his big love, but the weight of me feels bigger.
big like shame that greets me at the door when i least expect company. lying to remind me it belongs. waiting on patio, front porch. waiting for the sound of garage door opening so it can ride shotgun.
where ever i want to go. shame insists on coming with.
sometimes the worst happens and it even begins to feel companion.
i know false. but i close doors and stay inside with it. learn to live with it.
i know free to discard. but unsure of which blue/green/black bin to use, i wait. thinking wrong choice means it will be left with a note of correction: this belongs with you.
i have not found the setting down. in this my feet are still lead but this cracking open of curtains to let my stuck show seems a step directed. this kind of light births hope, shrinks shame.
and knee deep in stuck my heart keeps returning to sit at his feet. because i have found this truth.
for me there is no setting down elsewhere. here is where the bags are unpacked. where skin is shed for new. where worth is true. where freedom returns me to journey.
cast your burden on the lord,
and he will sustain you;
he will never permit
the righteous to be moved.
psalm 55:22 (ESV)