Strongly Lukewarm
I've been considering sharing this piece for a week or so and tonight it really struck a chord with me. So I'm going to. Here is something I wrote last year while struggling with what I found to be the "impossible expectations" of surviving high school.
I sit here. Sit alone. But I am not. Because everyone is with me. I have tied myself to them and the things they want me to be. Their expectations surround me like iron links. Do this, do that, be this, be that.
And I believe them that I must do these things. I believe every word they say. Because... Well, when I am honest I do not know why.
I do not have to get an A on every paper.
I do not have to succeed at everything I do.
I do not have to be perfect.
I don't even have not try.
But then I take a look at my life. I want so badly to look away, but I do not. And no one expects these things of me. These are lies I have imagined. Lies that have been fed to me not by people, but I suspect by an enemy much more dangerous than any mortal thing.
Whoever came up with the image of a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other was wrong. So wrong.
There is a devil on both shoulders, that traps us using our own minds. One whispers, "You have to be perfect," while the other whispers, "You cannot. Why bother trying this at all?"
They both speak some semblance of the truth, but it is a twisted version. A version that keeps us locked between the doors of trying our best and failing-- keeps us locked in a place called mediocre-- where we are neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm.
But the Lord comes from within us, not from our shoulder but from our faith. He declares, "No. I love you just the way you are. Strive not perfection, which glorifies you, but for your best, which glorifies me."
So why do we not listen? Why do we still believe that because we cannot reach perfection, we can get away with trying half-hardheartedly? Why do we try so desperately to make the possible seem impossible?
I cannot get an A in this class.
I cannot focus right now.
I cannot run this mile.
I cannot. I cannot.
And when we tear away all the lies and the chains we have constructed for ourselves, we find the truth.
We tell ourselves we cannot do things, so that we do not have to try, when really we have the ability to succeed and so much more. We try to believe that the bar was set at perfection so that when we fall just once we can cry out and say, "You see! I can't do this!
It's not that we cannot succeed. It's that we do not succeed because we wish not to succeed.
Because we enjoy being lukewarm: it doesn't involve too much effort but we can still put on the act of trying.
I sit here. Sit alone. But I am not. Because everyone is with me. I have tied myself to them and the things they want me to be. Their expectations surround me like iron links. Do this, do that, be this, be that.
And I believe them that I must do these things. I believe every word they say. Because... Well, when I am honest I do not know why.
I do not have to get an A on every paper.
I do not have to succeed at everything I do.
I do not have to be perfect.
I don't even have not try.
But then I take a look at my life. I want so badly to look away, but I do not. And no one expects these things of me. These are lies I have imagined. Lies that have been fed to me not by people, but I suspect by an enemy much more dangerous than any mortal thing.
Whoever came up with the image of a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other was wrong. So wrong.
There is a devil on both shoulders, that traps us using our own minds. One whispers, "You have to be perfect," while the other whispers, "You cannot. Why bother trying this at all?"
They both speak some semblance of the truth, but it is a twisted version. A version that keeps us locked between the doors of trying our best and failing-- keeps us locked in a place called mediocre-- where we are neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm.
But the Lord comes from within us, not from our shoulder but from our faith. He declares, "No. I love you just the way you are. Strive not perfection, which glorifies you, but for your best, which glorifies me."
So why do we not listen? Why do we still believe that because we cannot reach perfection, we can get away with trying half-hardheartedly? Why do we try so desperately to make the possible seem impossible?
I cannot get an A in this class.
I cannot focus right now.
I cannot run this mile.
I cannot. I cannot.
And when we tear away all the lies and the chains we have constructed for ourselves, we find the truth.
We tell ourselves we cannot do things, so that we do not have to try, when really we have the ability to succeed and so much more. We try to believe that the bar was set at perfection so that when we fall just once we can cry out and say, "You see! I can't do this!
It's not that we cannot succeed. It's that we do not succeed because we wish not to succeed.
Because we enjoy being lukewarm: it doesn't involve too much effort but we can still put on the act of trying.
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