From The Desk of David

It started with a forceful thud. I had ripped the belt loop on the jeans I was wearing. No big deal—if you ignore the fact that it was by pulling on the loop was how I was supposed to get my jeans around my waist. I tapped my phone. A white 4:47 glared back at me. I needed to be across town in a short time and this unexpected kink in my day now vilified the clock. It mocked me as I would then be forced to find some new way to get my jeans around my waist. After what seemed like the ultimate showdown with my jeans, I was finally rushing across town. Soon, I’d find myself over-apologizing for being late. My apparently futile attempt to apologize would quickly turn into an effort to employ self-deprecating humor to laugh away my guilt. After which I’d find myself soon scrolling through Instagram where I would find nothing but overly-edited pictures.

Why can’t I look like that? I’d respond to the photo of the guy who posts nothing but shirtless gym pictures. Will some girl ever look/talk about me like that? Would be my response to the photo of some girl gushing over her new husband as they lay beachside in some Caribbean island. Wow, why can’t I have a spiritual life like him? I’d say to the photo of a guy’s Bible laid across some coffee table shop with a mountainous caption of how the Lord is moving in his life. And seems like the list goes on and on…

Now, I know, the guy probably doesn’t post about the strict diet or the amount of work he put into his look. And that girl will probably never post some pictures online about how the two fought for the first time. And I know that supposed spiritual giant will never post about those lonely nights when he couldn’t feel further from God. But however, anxiety never lets you see the whole picture. Anxiety lives and breathes off partial pictures—the more incomplete the picture, the more anxiety flourishes.

Typically, these things don’t bother me. Usually, I’d admire the dedication and disciple the gym rat has. And I’d celebrate the new marriage of the couple sprawled on beach chairs. And I’d cheer on the brother who is a light within the darkness. But today…today anxiety is speaking, and it’s speaking loudly…

Anxiety’s voice would exploit the volume of the group of friends laughing and talking extra loud at the table next to us. In a rare occasion, my family and I would find us sitting around a table at once. Busy schedules and state borders typically prevent us from sharing a meal together, but tonight, we’d see ourselves together. But if it were up to the volume of the group next to us, we wouldn’t be together. The noise was a physical barrier. The joy-fill laughs of one member of the group would soon ignite frustration within my own soul because I could hear and contribute to the conversation. It seemed as with each frustrated glance I’d flash their way, they’d only get louder. The growing noise fed my anxiety. Or perhaps the anger rose my blood pressure and I turn, that elevated my anxiety. I’m not quite sure—all I know is that I felt anxious. Uneasy even. The thoughts from earlier would be reignited and fuel onward by conversations of health and wellness. I know I put on too much weight during my recovery and I don’t think you think I’m working my hardest to get rid of it? My progress seemed to be ignored as if it didn’t matter.

Are these thoughts accurate? Of course not. But are they valid? I’m sure they have some merit within their own. As I said before, anxiety relies on me ignoring the whole picture. I’m sure the insecurities are nothing more than a desire to grow, but because of a lack of a full picture, I’m missing the joy of progress. I’m up and moving—that’s a start to celebrate. I’m pushing into what The Lord is trying to say—that’s a start too. And if I’m bettering myself, then I’ll be ready for when the girl of my dreams walks into my life—and that’s a start too.

Anxiety is the enemy of progress. The devil uses anxiety to steal joy from us. By dressing up some fancy clock and taunting us with it, he can take the joy of the journey. Stealing the joy of the journey is all he does. He can’t steal the joy of the destination because Jesus already secured that in the grave. He can only take our joy along the way because that’s all he’s got. So, you, vile snake, you can’t have my joy tonight. You can’t take the joy of the journey. Because He has made you powerless and He demanded that you be crushed by the heel of my shoe. Isn’t that what this season is all about? It’s about the Babe’s arrival in the manger. He made the journey the joy. He’d go from being an infant born in a manger to a Savior dying on a cross to rising from the Dead–as an overcomer. He’d go from a defenseless babe to the defense of all. There’s joy in the journey and tonight, I’m celebrating the joy of the journey. I won’t be focused on where I should be because if I trust The Guide will lead my steps, then I should even worry. The progress of the journey isn’t up to me to decide, but rather it is up to Him. I’m just called to celebrate the progress made and of His Faithfulness through it all.

For His Glory,
David