Dangerous

I sat
with my stone
still in my hand;
watching others
lay down their burdens.
Do they see me? I thought.
Do they see me sitting here,
refusing to get up?
I buried my face in my journal;
in hiding;
in shame.
Of course they can see me.
It's written
all over my face.
There is no such thing as a secret
sin.
But there I sat;
through coutless others rising;
through others singing
wellness of their souls.

"When will you give up?" You ask me.
"You will never be ready."
Inside Im shoving you away
and screaming,
"Shut up!
Get out of my life!"
I had more choicier words than that.
But I'm supposed to be a good Christian girl, right?

So what am I holding back?

I watch the others rise
and relinquish.
Pride wells up within me.
Do they even know what they are doing?
Does this even matter to them?
This very edge-of-decision
has been my every
waking
moment
for a month.
How dare they make it look so easy?

I glance inside myself.
All I see is anger.
Anger is my strength.
Anger gives me power;
power to hold on.

Hold on to what?

Control.
Control of MY life.
How dare God try to take that away from me?

You looked at me, pleadingly:
"You're time is running out."
Once again, inside I screamed,
"Running out on what?
God can wait!
He's got eternity!"
But in my silence
I answered my own question:
"But I don't have eternity--
not in this state--
not in this life."

"God wants more for you."
Could I believe that?
No!
Because I'm so busy
looking
back
at the "what if's"
and "what could have been."
I'm so busy
looking
back
that I cannot embrace today
or hope for tomorrow.
I spend my days lamenting
over how I lost control.
Thinking that if only I exert more control,
maybe I will gain it back.

Maybe I can shove God
back into his box.
Or maybe I can bypass him altogether.
And why am I even talking about God?
Because I have been serving a god
who is a projection
of my own imagination.
A god who abides by the rules.
If I obey, he is to bless.
If I mess up, I'm his child, so he still must bless.
No wonder I get upset when I obey
and something goes wrong!

But why am I even allowed to define
what is right and wrong?
God didn't create the rules for himself;
he created them for us--
for me!
So here I am sitting in judgment
of God.
Oh, mighty smiter,
smite me now!

I've heard it so much:
"Lay it down,
lay it down."
But do you realize what I'd have to give up?!
EVERYTHING!
My right to look back.
My right to compare.
My right to define the exact proportions of God.
My right to expect blessings.
My right to complain.
My right to demand that God come meet me face-to-face.
My right to plan.
My right to control;
to control my weight,
my shape,
my hunger,
my pain,
my fear,
my shame,
my anger,
my loneliness,
my emptiness,
my friends,
my family,
my god.
I would have to give up my right to protect myself.
I would have to give up my right to talk to god . . .
and must submit myself in unconditional trust
to the One who's Name I am unworthy to pronounce.
.יהוה
The Almighty Adonai.
 יהוהwho cannot be defined.
 יהוהwho does not follow rules.
 יהוהwho does not fit a formula.
 יהוהwho will not be controlled.

This is the God
who created me.
This is the God
who began to intrude into my life in my nineteenth year.
This is the God
who has brought my darkness into the Light.
This is the God
who stuck himself in my face.
This is the God
who said, "Let your angry tears flow; I can handle them."
This is the God
who said, "I let you endure suffering in order to make you beautiful."
This is the God
who has left me in the dark night of my soul until I am ready to place blind trust in him.
This is the God
who is jealous when my love is wasted on a wimpy god in a box.
This is the God
who says, "I have all eternity, but you are wasting your life."
This is the God
who says, "I want something better for you."
This is the God
who says, "Jaime, throw your rock, and don't look back."

Silence.
The water under the bridge is so smooth.
Why is it so smooth?
I'm used to it being wild and turbulent in the cold wind.
But today it is smooth;
peaceful.
Do I dare shatter the glass with my rough stone?
What if people see me?
What will they think?

I hear God--
no--
I hear יהוה
whisper,
"It is just you and Me.
What will you choose?"

I take the stone out of my bag.
It feels dirty in my hand.
Do I really want to keep holding it?
Even if I let it go, won't I be tempted to pick it back up?
"Yes, of course you will,"
יהוה whispers.
"But that doesn't mean you have to."
Then He chuckles.
(Can God chuckle? He doesn't play by the rules.)
Anyway,יהוה  chuckles.
"Besides, Jaime, that is why I am asking you to throw it in the river.
I know you are symbolic."

I clench my fist tightly over the stone.
I feel safer with my hand clenched over it.
But is it worth it?

I stand up.
"God, give me the strength to not try to pick it back up."
Immediately, reasons to not let go flood my mind.
My palms sweat;
my hands shake,
my stomach churns,
my heart drums.
I am spiraling in fear--
ready to turn back.

I yank my arm back.
"Jaime, you'll never be ready!"
My arm flys forward,
releasing my fist
and the stone within it.

I stood still,
breathless,
watching the ripples
spread outward.
Then the water returned to glass.

I turned and left.
"No looking back, Jaime.
No looking back."