Out of Introspection

I remember sophomore year, spending time with a dear friend of mine. He bowed at the waist whenever he left a room, as a joke, and it was charming and funny and all those things. But I remember, near the end of the year, a night spent with friends in the dorm. And as I rose to leave, I turned to my friends on the futon and bowed at the waist. Immediately I realized what I had done. I had taken on the qualities of my friend, simply by being with him.

Last night I was getting some light bedtime reading in. Namely “The Spiritual Man” by Watchman Nee. It is neither light nor bedtime, but I was intrigued. It has two prefaces, which might indicate that the author had something to say. He did. The prefaces were as far as I got.

In both, Nee was very clear that this book was not meant for self analysis. He urges his readers not to fall into introspection, for our eyes are not meant to look at ourselves but out and up to God.

Here I become introspective. Because this is my life. I am always checking myself, questioning, waiting.

This summer I’ve been surrounded by beautiful, God loving friends to whom dating is a very, very serious endeavor, probably with an expectation of marriage unless God does something big to stop it. Here I return home, giving advice to a friend of mine along those same lines, and a different friend give much clearer, more freeing advice. He has confidence, and joy, and I’m stuck with introspection, wondering if I am over-thinking it. At which point I, once again, am over-thinking it. Don’t be introspective.

What is good and pure and righteous and holy, keep your mind on these things. How I wish I did. But I stare at myself, all day long. I wonder, should I have done that, should my heart feel differently, could that be done better, what if I’m longing for the wrong job, what if I get the wrong job, what if I’m trying too hard, what if I’m not trying hard enough- oh, it goes on.

The slump that I have sat in for the past year, off and on, began with one conversation, in the plains of Namibia, in which a fellow traveler questioned my love. They argued that I could not be so zealous for the glory of God and still not do what is physically most beneficial for people. And I cried all night, because I felt it could be true.

This began in introspection, in condemnation. And I have sat in that place since then. I have taken things hard, and I have demanded perfection and failed, I have longed for a perfect ministry and a perfect plan and have found none. I don’t sign up because I know it’s not perfect, yet I become trapped in myself for nothing is perfect. Do something, right?

I need a beautiful distraction. I need a God who would take my mind off myself. But how, when I am so intent on getting everything right?

My prayer, Jesus, is that you would free me from myself. My introspection is indeed killing me. There is no freedom in it, at all. My education in critical thinking has made me into a critic of all, but mostly of myself. Because I fail constantly. Constantly. I cannot be perfect, and yet I am called to be.

Jesus, atone for me. Jesus, take my place. Spirit, guide me into hope, into your will. Father, the grace to see your son, and to trust You in all things. For you care for me. How do I know? You speak through NPR, Turkeys, Flannery O’Connor, and Watchman Nee. And the beach last night. How on earth I am found worthy to see that, I can find no explanation outside of Jesus. It’s too good, and I am too inept.

If I abide in myself, I will only become more of me. And that would suck.

If I abide in Jesus, I will only become more of Him. And that would be beautiful.

I have learned that I am completely capable of spending time with others while only abiding in myself. I center upon myself and ignore their interest, grow frustrated (and frustrating), and depressed.

Pray for me to learn how to abide in Jesus. He is my only hope, once again.

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Post-Script: There was strange, beautiful comfort in the name of Jesus after writing this. Driving home, i would begin to pray and then to smile, for no reason. He is faithful. Knowing Him is peace in unknowning.

This morning, reading Joshua, I noticed that the tribes of Israel did not always have their land fully conquered when it was allotted to them. Instead, there remained enemies within their borders, some until Israel grew strong enough to remove them, others to remain permanently as servants, others simply to remain. It is possible to be given your inheritance and still do battle. It's possible to not be strong enough, and still be. The very end of Joshua is very, very encouraging. He asks them to choose, whether to follow the gods of their fathers or the One true God. They choose the one, thankfully. But Joshua isn't satisfied. He says, basically, you can't. You're not good enough. He is holy, and you will whore after other gods. And the people say, no, but we will still choose Him. Amen, sometimes we must choose. And we will never be good enough. Yet His faithfulness overcomes our faithlessness.