Double Life

And I’m so tired of living this double life. Of trying to be my own, and trying to be Yours. I’m torn between the life You ask of me and the life I demand from You.

And I’m sorry I try so hard to do life my own way. You know that ultimately I want Your will. It’s just that mine so often gets in the way…

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Can I be honest with you?

It’s been five months since I first penned this prayer, but I feel like I’ve been writing it every day since. So much of what I want is not what God wants for me during this season of my life. And it’s hard. It’s hard to keep pushing through the muck of this life when I don’t know what’s waiting for me on the other side of this mess I’m in.

I’m in transition. I’m making a move—a literal, physical move out of the town I’ve called home for the last four and a half years. People keep asking me if I’m excited.

I’m not. Not really.

Sure, there are things I’m looking forward to, but it’s hard to get super excited when you don’t know what you’re moving toward. When you don’t know what’s waiting at the end of those five hundred miles.

Can I be really honest now?

Sometimes I forget to practice what I preach. Sometimes my Beyond Waiting journey is paved with more anxiety than adventure, more pouting than praise.

Sometimes I don’t believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast. Sometimes I don’t believe in the impossible at all.

Sometimes I try to live two different lives—the one God weaves for me and the one I desire for myself. And let me tell you, it’s really, really, really hard to be two different people. One of them takes over. One of them wins. And I feel so often that it’s my own selfish will barreling the other out of the way.

If I’ve been quiet here of late, it’s because Rebekah’s voice has been trying to drown out God’s voice, and anyone who has tried arguing with God before knows how this story ends—with me being too tired to raise my voice and too stubborn to listen to His.

And so there’s silence where the words used to flow freely.

And there’s that whisper in the back of my mind—those words I once humbly confessed:

“You know that ultimately I want Your will. It’s just that mine so often gets in the way…”

Let today be the day my will shatters.

On Words and Worth and Singing in Silence

Sometimes I fear I place to much value on words. I find my worth wrapped up in them time and time again, and I’m not talking about the words of others (though I won’t shy away from a compliment. Unless you’re creepy. I don’t accept compliments from creepers, just sayin’).

It’s my own words that hold the potential to undo me. Or rather, the lack of words.

I’m a writer. Words are my life. I find fulfillment in pages upon pages of words streaming through my fingertips.

But sometimes… Sometimes there’s nothing but silence where the words used to be. Sometimes I have absolutely nothing of worth to say. I’m terrified of those silences because, when the pages of my journals are blank, when the cursor on the screen blinks empty, that’s when the doubts set in.

What am I doing here, really? Do my words carry weight? Can I possibly create enough of them? Is this yet another story that was born for the dusty shelves of Never Meant to Be?

Every time the silences start swallowing my words, I fear they’re lost forever, which is ridiculous because I’ve gone through seasons like this so many times and they never last. Winter sets upon my writing every once in awhile. The words curl up in their caves and hibernate like bears dreaming of spring. And that’s okay.

That’s what I have to keep telling myself over and over again. It’s okay to not have the words sometimes. It’s okay to dig deep and come up empty every now and then.

Steven James once wrote on the importance of silence. He said that without the silence between the notes, music is nothing but noise. We need the silence because then, and only then, can we finally hear the song.

When I stop trying to force the words, I can hear it. Playing softly in the back of my mind is a tune I’ve long forgotten to enjoy because I’ve been so busy trying to fill it with lyrics that never quite fit.

Some things are bigger than words. Some songs too beautiful for lyrics.

And it’s okay. It’s okay to melt into the silences as they fill our lives.

It’s okay to not know the words every once in awhile… just as long as you remember to sink into the song that has been playing all this time.

spider dance