2 sides of grace

There is a driving desperation inside of me, this need to earn God's favor. The concept of it being unmerited simply doesn't compute. This is going to sound very prideful, but it's almost insulting, the idea that I cannot merit His favor. I've worked so hard to do things the way He asked, to live the life I was supposed to live, to be "making myself ready" as it says in Revelation. My self worth - for better or worse - is attached to how well I've done in following God. It might be wrong, but it is true conceptually for me. I've given so much, sacrificed so much, hurt so deeply for what I believe in. I've done the right, best thing over and over again no matter how much it affected me - how can that amount to nothing? How can others receive by default what I've been asked to strive for?

On the flip side, these rules and commands - this law - it's too much. Too hard, more than I could ever hope to achieve. I desperately need grace. I can't do this in my own strength. I can't "make myself ready" for anything - I need God to lean on, to trust in, to abide in. I have no hope without him; grace is utterly necessary or I am hopeless. When I look at others who are hurting, I understand how important accepting grace can be. I want them to have it (despite my conflicting words above). I want them to know how much they are loved. I know I need it, oh I know I need it. But when it comes to me, I still don't understand how it can be received without earning it.

No wonder I feel stuck and lost.

Relatable

"I found myself in one of those times of life when a door has been slammed shut, and I did not see another one to open. I wondered what I was going to do next. I looked at various interests and majors, only to arrive at a deep emptiness and sense of darkness regarding the future.
I had many friends, but a few failed dating relationships had left me wondering if I would ever be able to make a relationship work. How did one find the right relationship? What did it look like? Was I even the kind of person who could pull that off? My relational future did not look any more hopeful than my vocational one.
It was in this state of mind and circumstance that I found myself that Sunday afternoon in my room. Thoughts about all the aspects of life that were not working went through my head like a whirlwind. What will I do? Who will I end up with? How will I find my way in my career and in my relationships? How can I change into a person who is not so depressed and unable to figure this all out? I didn't have any answers."

Knowing who said this, and knowing where his life took him later on, gives me a bit of hope for how closely I relate to his words now. Maybe things will get better - and stay better.

Source: Dr Henry Cloud, How People Grow, pg 66

Expectations

Your expectation of what lies in front of you is low.

Nonexistent, even.

You fear hoping because you expect hardship. 

Hurt. 

Disappointment. 

A reality you "should" have seen but didn't.

But what if there is a positive reality that truly does exist?

What if you've settled for a painful counterfeit simply because you're afraid the good stuff is a lie?

Hope is very heavy, I know. 

It can crush you.

But what if - just what if - that crushing weight isn't hope at all?

What if hope is different?

broken

I don't want to write, but I have to.
I don't want to keep this grip on the "good I know is out there somewhere."
But if I don't...if I let go now...

This last turn of events broke me.
Coming through so much,
coming out of so much,
building a life I loved that actually held hope -
scary but real hope -
only to have it all fall apart around me,
again -
like always.

It finally broke me.

My faith is rent.

What is the point?

Right now, all I can see in my future is hurt. Pain. Loneliness. Emptiness. I can't believe in dreams anymore. It's meaningless. To start over again, to pick up this mess and glue it back together again - why? To what end? I'll just be back on my hands and knees picking up these same broken pieces in time. It's just a depressing matter of time.

I thought this time would be different. I thought I was finally safe to hope. I was wrong.

So, I write. I write to listen to that annoying, tinny voice in my head that's warning me not to let go. 'Cause if I let go this time - I honestly don't think I'd ever make it back.

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