It’s been a cold few days cooped up at Far Song Cottage. Who knew adults got snow days?
Nashville was covered in a film of ice which was then decorated with a cloud of snow and my office was closed Monday and Tuesday, then I worked from home yesterday.
You’d think that would have given me a chance to be introspective and write some blog posts, and work on my stories, but while I got a lot of cleaning and movie watching and video game playing done, I did not do a lot of thinking.
This has been a problem lately. I’ve had a lot of reasons to avoid thinking the last couple years. In truth, not long ago, thinking too much was a recipe for sabotage for my own well being.
That’s something I’d like to share some more about in the coming days.
Because for a while not thinking about it is a healthy tool to avoid getting bogged down into excessive focus on your problems. And that’s a good thing to realize.
But after awhile, it becomes something else. It becomes a crutch that keeps you safe from pain. And love too.
And C.S. Lewis told us what happens when you do that with your heart.
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
I’m afraid this is starting to happen to my heart. It’s been so numb that it takes more and more terrible and wonderful things to make it hurt, or throb with joy.
I’ve told several friends lately that I feel like God has something new for me in the coming season of my life. At first I thought it might be something big. A new relationship, a new place to serve, some major life change I needed to listen to God to figure out how to make and I’ve been avoiding Him because I’ve been afraid of what it is.
But I faced Him squarely in the car today and I asked Him what it is He wants? And I felt this wide tug begin to pull in my heart, like the large patches of ice that I’ve pulled off my car today. If you excavate the ice, you’ll find that it’s about 2 inches of layers, snow first, then one thickness of ice, then at the bottom, the slippery, thick ice that cut my friend’s hand like glass when she fell off her sled yesterday.
The substance God pulled off my heart looks that way too. First indifference to my own ho hum life, then a layer of annoyance and disgust at where I’ve let myself slide spiritually of late. And then at the bottom this fear that if I begin to probe and stretch and grow in my soul again, I’ll find the same ugly problems that spun me into a cycle of anxiety and pain that happened two years ago.
That ice has been protecting my heart since then, and it has served me well. But it’s time for it to come off.
Will you journey with me as I blog about its removal in the coming days? God help me, I’m ready to see it removed and learn about what it’s been hiding.
It is almost certain to be painful. But it is also clearly the thing that God has been nudging me to do for three months now, and if I do not…well you heard what C.S. Lewis said. I don’t want a heart like that.