#5

"I will not be shaken."

I tried to sing those words with conviction along with the song I was just listening to, but they felt like a blatant lie.

I know I'm supposed to say those words and mean them. Just like I'm supposed to precede them by saying all my trust and hope is in You, unwaveringly.

But unwavering isn't a word I'd use to describe myself.

I'm not always solid. I'm shaky. Sometimes the wind blows too hard, and I feel myself fighting to keep my balance. Or when I've been standing for a long time, my legs get weak and wobbly, and it wouldn't take much more than a poke to knock me down.

So before the guilt and shame of being so very shakable can absorb into my being like lotion into my skin, maybe I should just be honest with You.

The timing of honesty is so crucial.

If I hold onto it for too long, it morphs its way into my being and becomes an invisible limb that turns into a crutch, and then how do I give it up because what will I lean on instead? Once I've begun leaning on this crutch of a belief, well, then You and I both have our work cut out for us. I must (often painstakingly) get to the point where I recognize it for what it is and surrender it to You. Then You have the especially tricky job (from my perspective) of replacing my beloved crutch with a truth stabilizer which will likely feel uncomfortable and take time I don't want to spend to get used to.

So…yes… I'm beginning to understand why the timing of my honesty with You is so important.

I want to be honest quicker to avoid the invisible chasm that finds its way between us. The one that doesn't actually keep You at arm's length but sure does trick me into thinking You're an ocean away.

And the faster I'm honest, the faster You can do away with all the voices and reasons telling me I shouldn't be honest in the first place.

You shouldn't be experiencing this fear.

I thought doubt would be a thing of the past by now.

Why on earth would He keep showing up when your weak areas never seem to change?

If you actually had faith, you'd have made it much farther by now.

You want Him to be safe, but He's not. Going to Him and telling Him that isn't going to change anything.

Your fear isn't actually fear. It's logic. You should think it the whole way through and go over different "logical" scenarios in your head so you're prepared for what could happen.

He's probably not going to answer you audibly anyway.

You can pray for Him to restore the whole situation, but what's different now than it was 3 years ago? 6? 10?

Yeah, I'd very much like to fast forward past the part where the trash heap thoughts have a field day in my brain.

I simply want to tell You quicker because I want to invite You in quicker. I don't want to be alone in those scary recesses of my brain. I want access to Your peace the moment all-too-familiar fear and shame begin to trickle in. And I can only have room in my hands to pick up Your peace if I hand over my heavy honesty first.

So, back to those song lyrics I couldn't authentically sing. I said to You: I can be shaken, actually. I'm frail and human and don't have much upper body strength. How on earth can I say, "I will not be shaken" with definitive defiance? (It's me, so I'd like to say it defiantly…my rebellion has got to come out somewhere, right?)

And You so clearly and simply answered me, "I will not be shaken."

Oh, man. How often do I get anxious, turned around, and fearful because I think something relies on me when it really depends on You?

I don't have to be confident in my ability not to be shaken.

Actually, if I am, I'm probably about to fall flat on my face and likely anything but gracefully. But also, I'm missing an opportunity for closeness with You because acknowledging something I'm not will always lead me to discover another facet of who You are.

I won't be shaken because You can't be shaken. You don't hold my swaying against me – You steady me. You adore being my solid ground. So cue the music. I'll be sure to sing that line defiantly and rebelliously, just as I'd hoped to.

Song of the Day: Build My Life by Housefires
(Go to 4:05 if you want to sing along defiantly, too.)