I’m diving deeper. It is so, so hard.
I sat with the hope-speaking counselor today and spoke things I’ve never spoken before. It shocked me. I have spent years burying those thoughts. I did such a good job, in fact, it startled me I could even say them out loud.
For 20 years I have been running from desire. My home taught me feelings are optional. They don’t change the facts. A logical decision is always the right one. Well-intentioned mentors instilled in me the danger of desire. The heart can’t be trusted.
So I got really, really good at ignoring desire. It worked great until the hurt became too much. Disappointment overwhelmed me. I moved from not acknowledging to outright numbing.
Just in case you’re wondering, depression is a great game of numbing. Numbing the bad sounds appealing until you realize it sucks the joy too.
Part of my healing lies in tackling this beast haunting me for two decades.
Last week I told the hope-speaking counselor I was beginning to feel a little brave. He replied with, “Then take a risk.” Today risk is slapping me in the face.
This is risk. This. Choosing to dive into the murky and dangerous black of desire.
What if it spins me out of control? What if I sink in discontent so deeply I’m not able to climb back out?
What if desire cuts even the few thin strings on which my faith is resting?
I write, and I hear, “Nothing is too big for God.” Take the risk.
Last week I listened to a podcast with Dan Allendar and John Eldredge. They were talking about the restoration of the heart. Do you know what Dan Allendar said?
“Hiding is the only thing standing in our way of restoration”
Ouch. I have not only been hiding this place, I have been trying to even forget it is there. I am filled with fear. I am so very afraid of what lies within desire.
There is no good in darkness. It has to come to the Light. I want restoration even more than I want to not expose what I have been hiding.
Help me, Lord Jesus, to be brave.