When We Sit Alone with Our Thoughts

Do you ever feel inadequate, incompetent, useless, unfit, like you just make things worse - like, do you ever have times when you feel so much this way that, even with the things you know you're good at (because everybody has something they're good at), suddenly, you feel like you aren't even good at those things anymore (or maybe that you never really were)? I had one of those moments (or more like, one of those evenings) last night. I got one thing wrong (and it was no small thing, but still), and suddenly, I was ready to throw in the towel on everything - to just go hide away somewhere and not try anymore, because "I just make everything worse."

That's not my "normal," anymore, but it used to be. And still, even now at 30, every so often, something happens like yesterday evening; and I hear that cunning, damned familiar voice - the one I've heard so many times before - that same voice that cozied-up to Eve that fateful day in the Garden, so long ago. It's not lying to me. (I sort of wish it were. I think that would be easier.) No, it's telling me the truth. It's pointing out a very real deficiency in my life in a single area; and then, I run with the deceptive narrative it spins for me based off of that truth: "You're not enough. You can't do anything right. You just make everything worse. People are better off without you."

Here's the things - and I think this is why it's so difficult for us (me) to recognize when we're being duped by the enemy: he rarely (if ever) just flat-out lies to us; he deceives us. And there is a significant difference between these two behaviors. Lying is giving a false narrative. Deceiving is taking a truth and twisting it in such a way that what's ultimately believed is untrue. Deception is, in my opinion, so much worse, because it's harder to recognize. Because it requires some untangling - some separating - some distinguishing between truths and lies, between what to accept and what to reject. And if we're tired (like I was, yesterday evening), it's easier to simply take whatever's dished up for us and consume the whole of it, bones and all, even if swallowing the bones might kill us.

We have a real enemy, and have had one ever since the beginning of our time on earth. He seeks to "steal and kill and destroy" (John 10:10); and perhaps the most effective way he is able to do this is by deceiving us. Because unless we are "tak[ing] captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Corinthians 10:5) through the power of the Holy Spirit and the revelation of truth by God's Word, then we are a captive audience to the enemy's deceptions.

My untangled truth from last night's deception is this:

• I'm not enough, in and of myself; but I am enough in Christ, because His strength is made perfect in my weaknesses (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).
• Also, I can do some things right. Not everything... but some things.
• And yes, I may make some things worse, sometimes; but even those things, God can turn around and use for good (Genesis 50:20; Romans 8:28).
• God created me "on purpose, for a purpose" (Megan Fate Marshman); and that purpose involves the messiness of imperfectly living among and loving (and being loved by) other people (Ephesians 2:10; Philippians 1:21-26; Hebrews 10:24-25; Galatians 6:10; 1 Corinthians 16:14; Romans 13:8; 1 Thessalonians 5:11).

It took less than a minute for a single truth, spun into a tangled web of deceit, to completely unravel me last night. Less than a minute. But it took hours of sitting (or lying down, if I'm being completely transparent) in that deception, defeated, before I repositioned myself to hear and receive and believe the real truth - God's truth - again. And I think part of the reason I got stuck in that state for as long as I did was because I kept all of those thoughts to myself. I was so ashamed of my perceived failure that I tried to hide it away. (Reminiscent of the Garden, again, isn't it?) I tried to hide all evidences of it, including the poisonous thoughts that the enemy had whispered in the wake of my shortcoming: "You're not enough. You can't do anything right. You just make everything worse. People are better off without you." I literally laid on the couch beside my husband (who was reading, but who I know would have gladly laid his tablet down to talk with me, if I had just let him into the conversation that was already taking place in my mind); and I chose to "sleep it off" rather than telling him what I was thinking. Haven't we all been there before?

I spent some time late last night reading from my Bible and praying, and I am grateful that God did the work of untangling for me, despite my stubbornness and even my willfulness to stay in that state of entanglement. But I honestly believe I could've gotten out of that state sooner, if I'd just been willing to talk about it with the person God had provided so perfectly and so faithfully for me in that moment.

I think God gave us each other for that very reason - to speak truth over lies and deceptions - to help us see the full picture, when all we can see is whatever small detail we've fixated on and whatever conclusions we were able to draw off of that one detail alone. We so easily fixate on the wrong things and jump to the wrong conclusions - especially, when our eyes are not fixed firmly on Christ (Hebrews 12:1-2). Perhaps this is the enemy's greatest deception of all: to convince us that we're better off (or even capable of) working through our issues all on our own. Oh, what a cruel deception that is! Friend, we weren't ever meant to do this alone (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12; James 5:16; Galatians 6:2; 2 Peter 1:3-13). 

"What are you thinking about right now?" That's a question I ask my friends often, though it's one I hate to be asked myself. I don't always like sharing what I'm thinking, because sharing what I'm thinking invites someone else into the dialogue that's taking place inside my mind; and I don't know about you, but my mind can be a frightening, messed up, and even mortifying place at times. And by sharing my thoughts honestly, I'm giving that person permission to become a spectator of the most private conversations that I will ever take part in; and (if that person so chooses), to also become a contributor and a redactor of that most intimate narrative. For that reason, I won't answer that question for everyone; but I will answer it for a trusted few, because I know that those friends will listen without judgment, and that when the situation calls for it, they will speak truth and life-giving words into whatever fallacious, life-sucking narrative I'm believing. Those friends are gifts from God to be treasured. Life-savers.

So, what are you thinking about right now? If your thoughts are not bringing you life, then here's my challenge to you: share your thoughts with a trusted friend or mentor, and invite them to contribute to your internal dialogue. Don't try to sort it all out on your own - you and I are not as good at it as our enemy would like us to believe.