Leg Weights

My whole life, I've felt like it's all a race.

Like everybody experiencing the same sense of Time that I am is running against me, in their own numbered track, spiked feet slapping the same compact tar or rubber underneath mine. But the catch, I've always felt, has been that I've had monstrous leg weights strapped to me ever since the second lap. And I don't even know how long I'm supposed to run for; but it's been a while, and I have yet to catch a glimpse of the finish tape.

In a situation like that, I found it easy, or even effortless, to lose faith- lose faith in myself, in God, in my friends, and the other racers who were outrunning me. Lose faith in everything I've thought was the Truth. But the fact is, the Truth isn't dependent on whether or not I have faith in it. If it was, then it wouldn't be "Truth." It would be "opinion."

But it is Truth, and there's no changing that, there's no fighting it. It's not like a political platform, that you have to defend, advocate, advertise, and persuade others to believe. It's independent of us, independent of the thoughts that swirl around in our tiny brains about it.

So what is the Truth?

The Truth is that someone out there knows what He's doing. He knows what's going on- why everything is the way it is. He's seen all of Time, transcends its very form Himself, and knows it all in a thought. He has seen what was, what is, and what is to come. After all, He created Time itself, as a construct. And He's okay with it. So maybe I should be too.

Call it fate, call it sovereignty, call it destiny or fortune, but it's how this is all going to work out. And the destination justifies the journey, in God's plan. Who am I, to think that I know how things will turn out, or what is for the best? It's like a little kid who gets all pissed because he can't have candy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sure, it'd be sweet, but no self-respecting parent is going to let it happen. Because the parent knows what's best- not the child. The parent has the experience, the wisdom, the knowledge, the responsibility, where the child hasn't even begun to taste the "real world" yet. And the breadth of the developmental gap (for lack of a better phrase) between human beings and God is so much larger and more infinite than the one between parent and child. So who am I to question why things come about, or why I can't have what I want? I'm just being spoiled, and naive.

But, at the same time, I know it's not as easy as that. If I can't even comprehend the Truth and Reality of God, then how can I be expected to operate my life on the basis of just that- a mystery? So much of Life is a mystery, though. Everything is, actually. This whole concept of Existing, of Living, of being pushed through Time along with the other Souls around me, is just so strange and utterly complex to me. It's so much bigger than I can express in simple words on a blog. It's so much bigger than what's going on in my head.

It's so much bigger than me.

My point is, though, that I shouldn't get so worked up at how my Life goes. I should be, not just tolerant, but thankful for everything that comes to pass (good or bad, in my eyes). Because it is all part of the inherent mystery and intricacy of God's plan for my life, and the lives of everyone around me- of everyone on this entire earth.

But I hardly ever do that.

I fight His love and sovereignty every inch of the way, kicking and screaming, like a small child, just because I can't have my candy...


So thank you, Abba Yahweh.

Thank you, even for the leg weights.

Maybe You just wanted me to be able to run faster...

When I finally kicked them off.