Tear Down the Walls

Sometimes the walls have to be torn down, so that something new and better can be built back up again. It’s not an easy process. It’s certainly painful. But pain, I think, should be a sign of weakness leaving the body. I was listening to the story of Marcus Luttrell, a Navy SEAL that survived some pretty horrible stuff over in Afghanistan. After hearing about his training, I can see why he survived. There wasn’t much that the Taliban could throw at him that was any worse than what his training was. Read LONE SURVIVOR, and tell me if these guys aren’t about the toughest human beings on the face of the Earth.

Anyway, I realized that I can either let this pain and agony bear me under, or I can tough through it. It can break me, or I can come out the other side better than what I was going in. That’s what I want to happen. I’m not going to be broken.

When the core of what you are has been attacked, you find yourself awash in a sea of doubt, and that’s where the Enemy’s got you right where he wants you. You’re weak, you’re struggling, and you feel like you’re all alone.

Questions that I’ve found find myself asking are: am I really good at what I do? Have I redeeming qualities and values? Can I hold a decent conversation with another human being without coming off as a complete idiot or condescending jerk? Am I actually a likeable human being? Am I a good father? Am I really that complete a failure at my life?

These are basic things, but so very important. How much of our identity is wrapped up in what we do? Of how others perceive us? We’re often defined by it. I’m a lawyer. That’s a good chunk of identity, or at least it used to be. If I’m not good at that, then am I a failure?

The problem is allowing others to define us. Not everybody’s going to like me. Tough. Not my problem anymore. Don’t like the way I talk? Sorry. Don’t like the way I do things? Your problem, not mine.

God created me the way I am, and he darn sure has a use for me. Just as I am, thank you very much. I can simply do what I can, and the rest is not in my power.

I’ll let God worry about it. A minute spent on worrying is a minute that changed nothing, and I’ll never get back. I WILL survive this, and there’s better things on the horizon. I don’t think God wants anybody to be miserable. I’ll just simply lay it at his feet, and he’ll sort it out as he sees fit.

I’m just thankful to be here, to be a father to a wonderful little boy, thankful to have the mind that I do, the heart that I do, and the personality that I do. I’ll let God do with that what he wills.

So this is painful, but it’s training for something better. It’s not for me to decide how this whole thing is going to come out. It is up to me to be open to God’s plan, and to go with it. I should be his to command.