Hesitating at the Lord's Doorstep
An insight into my difficulties with avoidance
Hi friends!
It’s been some time since my last post and I must say I have missed this outlet of writing. College has been busy as ever mixed with academic and emotional stress. Nevertheless, here I am for another newsletter during my spring break!
I feel like I often talk about my stress, but I value vulnerability and it would be a lie to say that I’m constantly energized and fully content.
Yet, in the midst of my stress, there have been moments of peace treasured dearly. Two Sundays ago was a particular highlight as I had my first dinner at a professor’s house. Honestly, it was probably the most tranquil and content I have felt in this second semester.
With no driver’s license and limitations to walking everywhere, I don’t often get out of the campus/downtown area, leaving me in a little Wheaton bubble. Although the majority of the time I enjoy this bubble as a space I call home and one I can return to on difficult days. But there are other days where I long to get away if just for a simple drive listening to music.
It has become increasingly important for me to get out of Wheaton for a bit, before returning to the comfort of home. I think this is in part due to my restlessness as a TCK. Being comfortable in a place feels uncomfortable. Discomfort became my companion through the years, so having a sense of being settled is foreign and strange. But I am learning to treasure this feeling of home as it has served as a feeling of peace in hard times.
In all transparency, I do want to return to the topic of this overdue newsletter. Over the past three weeks, inspiration has not lacked, but motivation certainly has. Life as a writer proves difficult when you create deadlines and pressures for yourself. You expect yourself to be able to just sit down and beautifully pour out your thoughts onto a page, but reality struggles to align with this vision.
This morning as I typed in the s and u to arrive at substack, I hesitated pressing enter, and it reminded me of a feeling I have so often towards God. Allow me to explain.
I haven’t visited substack much during these past few weeks because I didn’t want to disappoint the writer inside of me. I failed to meet my own expectations and standards. Clicking on my newsletter site meant facing disappointment in myself.
So, I avoided it.
Unfortunately, the same applies to my relationship with God. All too often, I arrive at a place where too many letdowns have piled up and I refuse to approach the Lord.
These disappointments, like my writing ones, are crafted by me. A creation of mine I find difficult to destroy. The expectations we place on ourselves offer us structure, stability. Yet, they block us off from our Creator and will eventually come crashing down back on us.
Nevertheless, even with this self-awareness, I hesitate to approach the One who loves unconditionally and without bounds. On a conscious level, I go about my day not recognizing the true reasons behind the avoidance of my newsletter or of God.
With my writing, it is simple to say I’m busy with school and emotions. I don’t have time to write or write well. I can put it off for this week. But one week turns into two which turns into three.
With the Lord, I can easily rely on my Christian upbringing and the fact that I’m surrounded by Christianity at my college. Maintaining an impersonal, distant yet believing relationship with God is easy when you have a Christ-centered curriculum and are required to go to chapel three times a week. But what happens when I’m home alone in silence and I spot my Bible unopened in my drawer?
My keyboard and pens will always be ready to welcome me back and scribe my heart onto a page. How much more is my God ever-ready to welcome me into his arms?
When I tend to separate Jesus into a distant part of the universe and fail to recognize his humanity, I am reminded of this clip from the series The Chosen.
In this scene, Jesus jokes around and joins in the dancing at the wedding celebration. He is human and participating in culture. Such a wonderful picture and reminder of Christ’s humanity. How beautiful it is that he came to live among us wrapped in frail humanity, choosing to sacrifice himself for the sake of us all.
He is far more present and personal than I tend to imagine.
What I have come to with both my writing and my relationship with God is simply to enter the door.
No need to wait at the door or knock on it. Walk in. Return home.
Most ardently,
Alayna Brianne
Lovely words, Alaynamou!
This is so beautiful ❤