If I were to make a list of things I’d want those I love to feel, disappointment would be pretty much at the bottom. I think I’d rather people be furious with me, disgusted at me, or contemptuous of me. I am not saying I want fury, disgust, or contempt. But I would rather those than disappointment from the people I care about.
I don’t think I’m alone. I am not sure we ever outgrow our abject terror at that worst of all possible parental reactions, “I am very disappointed in you.” Seriously, whatever else your parents had in their disciplinary bag of tricks– wouldn’t you rather face that than face that terrible sentence?
If I were a more clever writer I might find some clever segue here. But I’m going to settle on, Let me tell you about yesterday.
I got it into my head, yesterday, that I would turn over my pain and challenges to Jesus. I need to get reminded of this regularly. As often happens when I do this, it was an exceptional day. Low stress, low anxiety, high-joy. It is so easy to do. Why is it so hard to do?
I got home, and around evening time, I made myself a rum and coke. O.K., it would be more accurately be titled a rum and coke and more rum. I am a light weight. It knocked me on my butt. As Simon and Garnfunkle so eloquently put it, I was feeling groovy.
I had this little self-satisfied check list I went through. Thought about how I was feeling so good. And how I had just relied on Jesus, the way I was supposed to all day and-
This is not a post about drinking.
My point is that sometimes we delude ourselves. We tell ourselves that Jesus is all we need. And then we go and use other things, worse things, for our comfort and joy and support.
Argh. It’s hard, sometimes.