Wednesday, May 10, 2017

It's nothing a good bop on the head won't cure


Through a recent conversation with my dear hubbie, it was revealed to me I may or may not be addicted to stress.

What??!!?!

Wait a minute!

Isn't addicted a rather strong word??

I would prefer something along the lines of stressed, busy, on-the-go, or even overwhelmed.

Those words leave me feeling in charge. Like I am in control. Like maybe my house didn't get dusted last week and maybe someone really ought to tackle the Leaning Tower of Laundry in my bedroom, but I still (basically) have it all together.

But . . . addicted?

That feels entirely different. That feels powerless and out of control. Like I made a conscious choice somewhere along the way to let my stress level rise to the top, and now I'm not so much a piece of driftwood tossing about in life's stormy seas, but more of a barnacle clinging to the underbelly of a boat.

Ewww.

That makes me want to detach myself and float free, stormy seas and all.

So why do I keep clinging to that slimy boat???

Jesus promised my yoke would be light and my burden would be easy, but I have to admit it doesn't always feel that way.  Burdens aren't typically easy to bear. Burdens are . . . well . . . burdensome. I generally kick and buck against the yoke on my shoulders and the rocky path before me. The load is too heavy, it chafes, it causes blisters, it's uncomfortable and confining. The road ahead appears untraveled and unpleasant. Dangerous, even.

But while I'm busy stressing over my situation, causing myself more and more discomfort, he's simply waiting for me to get tired of struggling. When I finally settle down, he's standing there ready to gently lead me, bearing the brunt of the load just as he always has.

I'm tired of being a beast of burden fighting against the very yoke that waits to ease my load.

I'm done with being a barnacle clinging to the bottom of a battleship.

I want to let go, to stop fighting, to crawl out from under. I want to feel the ocean breezes on my face.

I think I'd rather be an oar. An oar in the hands of an experienced boater can cut through choppy waves with purpose and certainty. It also knows when it's time to rest and let the waves do all the work.

Little known fact: A sturdy oar can also be used to bop overly-aggressive sharks on the head, should the need arise. I was enlightened recently by a YouTube video that left me awed and inspired. I have a few nasty sharks in my own life that could use a good bop on the head . . . anxiety, worry, regret, and fear, to name a few.

Yeah, I want to be an oar in the hands of Jesus.

Seems like a pretty easy burden to me.

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