2017, In a Word {Or Two}

Here we are again, looking ahead at the fresh new face of 2017. Wondering what it will hold. Intending to change. Drumming up a resolution or two or ten, or--as I've done a few years running--a 2017 word, a singular focus to help guide me through whatever big and little moments are contained in the months ahead.

Last year, my word was control--as in, "letting go of control."

Oh.
Oh hohoho.

It was a great idea.
A beautiful phrase.
I gathered all sorts of practical tools, made a pretty little wallpaper for my phone as a constant reminder, and created an image for my blog post of a cute little balloon named "control" that looked as if I could simply release it and smile at wanly as I watched it float into the peaceful sky.

Come to find out, my attempt to let go of control was, instead, a reality in which I clung to it with the iron fist of a shaky addict clutching their last fix.

Basically, it took this year to discover that my little molehill of control was really a Mount Everest, and I'd pretty much set myself up for failure. Even though I thought I was prepared, I had unknowingly chosen a goal that was actually an ultimate end state--underestimating in an epic way the monumental journey it would take to get there. I had envisioned magically standing at the top of this Mount Everest after twelve months without truly understanding the length and breadth of planning and work needed to even arrive at the base camp.  In chiding myself that I should just let go of control already, I discovered [and worked to accept] just how much of a control freak I truly am. Not just in the areas I thought, but in nearly all the things, all the time. And it finally dawned on me that I hadn't embarked on just a year's worth of dainty exploits, but a lifetime of hard, emotional, roll-up-your-sleeves-day-after-day to rebuild the temple kind of work.

In the midst of all this, I was, in a sense, trying to do it all myself, too. It took twelve months to recognize that I wasn't fully capable of all the heavy lifting, and that I never will be -- I also have to trust, to rely on, God's help and competence.

But I'll give it to myself - going back and reading what I wrote last year, I clearly knew the importance of this end goal. And I took some crucial steps this past year that will enable me to eventually get to that heavy lifting. Most importantly, I finally had the desire to start chipping away at the overall issue.  I especially appreciate the perspective of these words I shared last year, and echo them even more fervently this year:

"It's easy to decide on a focus when I'm imagining, at least subconsciously, smooth sailing ahead. Then these twists and turns come up, and I end up pushing things off for "when the dust settles," for when our routine is more stable, for when I'm feeling more resilient or less anxious, for when I can catch a breather.  

But the reality is that the settling dust keeps getting stirred up time and again with unexpected transitions, those twists and turns that I should know by now will be a part of the journey--though I'm still a little taken aback and sometimes more than a little overwhelmed when then crop up."

I think it was the twists and turns of this past year that most highlighted my death grip on control.

There were a lot of them--some good, many less than palatable. But one of those crucial steps I took in 2016 was starting some serious interior work. Big, emotional, hard, healing work that has only just begun. Through it, I've gotten a lot of not-so-subtle reminders that when we can let go of the outcome, we release ourselves from an extraordinary amount of pressure and responsibility that we were never meant to have in the first place. This work, combined with those twist and turns, helped clearly expose my desire for control and my total lack of trust in One infinitely more Sovereign than I. and all the unnecessary pressure and anxiety I'm unwittingly placing on myself.

So I began to connect the dots, to work backwards from the end goal to find the source of the problem. Eventually it deposited me at the crossroads where I now stand: finally recognizing what I needed all along to begin this whole journey.

The pieces fully fell into place as I was driving along a few weeks ago; I caught myself in a rare moment of reflection, thinking about this past year and how little control I'd been able relinquished, about paying lip service to trusting God while so wholly denying it with my actions. I was briefly annoyed with myself that I'd basically gotten nowhere, but for once I convinced myself to skip the self-deprecation, to step back and analyze the "why" of the issue (no doubt thanks to all the hard work I've done and the wisdom of my mentors).

With that single, simple question of "why," it came together.

I say I want to let go of control, but when tested, cling even more tightly to the illusion of it. Why?

Fear, my mind whispered with insistence.

So much fear.
Fear of the unknown.
Fear of suffering.
Fear that drags me away from progress, affects my decisions, boxes me into a false and ever more constricting sense of security.
Fear that things won't go according to plan--my plan--that I'll lose what I want, what I love.
Fear rooted in the oldest of lies: that it's all up to me; that I'm in "control;" that I can't trust Him, that the lofty plans I've devised for my life are somehow better than the divine plan, woven for me into the fabric of eternity by the One who knows me far better than I know myself.

But what, out of all our base human tendencies, could possibly oppose this fear that makes me reach for control?

Clearly,
definitively,
the answer was Trust.

But Trust is hard.
Trust takes time. 
I cannot will myself to trust anymore than I can will myself to let go of control.
Trust is an equal part of this Everest that will take a lifetime to conquer.
Trust has to be built on demonstrated actions, on rock-solid, immovable ground.
Trust only exists on the other side of the great chasm of fear that stretches so unfathomably wide and deep before me.

How to build this bridge to Trust?
On what secure rock can I even begin to place the foundation?
If my fear is fed by lies--what, then, will feed my trust?

TRUTH.

It resonated loud and clear.

Truth is the bedrock.
Truth is the cornerstone.
Truth is what I have to seek:
     Every time fear begins to hedge me in.
     Every time my brain begins to spin justifications and 'reasoning' rooted in fear.
     Every time the suffering begins anew and the voice of deceptive mocks hope.
I am to pause, to step back, and consider the truth that opposes such fear.

Lest this sound simple, I remind myself that it will take every bit of the arduous work I recognized earlier. As I look back at this past year, I had real reasons to fear. Intensely dark moments of suffering. Seasons of questioning and near hopelessness, of physical and mental exhaustion. And yet...I can see that in the center of it, a small, quiet kernel of truth planted in the deepest recesses of my soul sustained me.

That--that is something worth nurturing.

I tell myself that remembering to stop and consider truth, that choosing to believe it, will take time. Effort. Intentionality. And it's still just a starting point as I move forward from this crossroads; the fear won't disappear overnight, or probably ever be completely rooted from my earthly life. I may never fully conquer that Everest.

But I see now that when I am a slave to fear, when I avoid suffering like the plague, I end up missing out on a whole lot of life in the process.

So much life.

I don't want that to be my truth anymore.

I want the inner joy--the freedom--of eternal Truth. Trust in Divine Wisdom.

{Each time I pick up my phone}

So I begin...
With all my silly phone wallpapers and reminders and practical tools.
With the wisdom and support of my mentors and friends.
With 2016's hindsight cautioning me to remember the importance of balance - that it will take more than just releasing a cutsie balloon, but it's not all up to me, either; that sometimes God will need me to step aside so He can do the heavy lifting.
And, with the reminder that it's a marathon and not a sprint--that this goal is not limited to 2017 alone..

Today, I take the first step forward from the crossroads and begin to seek truth in the face of fear.

"...and the Truth will set you free." 

- John 8:32