In some ways, life is about finding relief from stress. How you find relief defines you.
Investing hours of your time every night into playing video and streaming games will likely impact your ability to handle stress directly. When you put hours of energy into a world that doesn’t exist, you’ll have very little for the one that doesn’t. And sometimes, you won’t even have time to care.
A person who runs to alcohol may quickly be overtaken by its curious hold over a person’s ability to handle stress.
Drugs do the same, but they do it much quicker.
Sex is wonderful, but it can quickly become a god. Porn has far-reaching impacts on relationships, destroying integrity and trust at the deepest levels.
Social media can become a god, stealing our time, attention, and drive.
Addictions attempt to find relief from the stress we feel.
Jesus offers relief.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matthew 11:29-30 (MSG)
Jesus doesn’t offer me solutions; he offers me himself. I want three steps to solve my problem so I don’t have to rely on him, but he’s not offering that. He offers himself. He offers a relationship. I want Jesus’ healing without Jesus. In my heart, I would instead do it on my own.
“Come to me” is an invitation to get to know him. It’s intimate and personal. He offers, “Keep company with me, and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” The pressure will be off.
He offers, “Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it.” I must be close to him for that kind of thing to work. I’ll be able to smell his breath as I work with him. It’s unglamorous, informal, and messy, just like life is messy.
But something inside me pauses – I want relief, not a relationship. I only want a piece of the invitation, not the whole thing. There are some things I don’t want him to know about me. Some movies that aren’t very pure, and I have some godless thoughts. I don’t want to share “everything” with Jesus.
I’m a hypocrite, but I like to think of myself as spiritual and, possibly, on a good day, “mature.” There is a battle inside me. To trust or not to trust. Am I good enough to let him in? Should I reserve some of my heart for fun things I like to do? It’s easier to hide my sin when he’s not around. That way, I don’t feel so bad.
Surrender seems like an all-inclusive word, which I’m not very excited about.
Is my relief a justified way to sin? Does it have to be my way? How important is it to leave the option to “do what I want?” My heart is a “god factory,” so if Jesus is around a lot, he will probably say something. I don’t know. That seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?
Images of sex fester around in my mind more than they should. I have no wife to enjoy, so I’m missing my sexual expression. I’m not justifying sin; I’m identifying my pattern. Deb was such a wonderful blessing to me. She helped me stay pure and free. But today, it’s different. She’s not here. I don’t have anyone to be sexual with. Not anymore.
I work to keep myself accountable. As a man, I’m drawn to women visually, so porn is a real temptation. I need to learn new ways of resting with Jesus with my sexual appetite. I need to “get away with him and recover my life.” It sounds so good when I write that, but temptation can be overwhelming some nights when I’m all alone. I need Jesus to need him. I need men to keep me clear-headed. I need so much that sometimes I feel like I’m asking God to borrow the car again tonight. I feel weak and broken. And, to be honest, ashamed.
Prayer
“Help me again, Lord.
Help me learn how you do it so I can trust you. Help me see what you are doing and how you are doing it in me. Your grace is unending, your love is beyond measure, and you are trustworthy. Help me trust you.
How can I rest in you, Lord? How do I experience the “unforced rhythms of grace” you talk about? I am a physical man with desires. Please give me the experience of rest you talk about. My weakness is greater than my discipline. I need you, Jesus. I don’t want to live in shame; I want to live in your freedom; I just don’t know how.
You are the only one who can protect me from myself.
In Jesus’s name, Amen.”
Trust from the Bottom of My Heart
There is no formula to life, even though I desperately want one. I can experience grief if I know there is an out, a point of relief. I want to be in control and find the relief I’m hoping for, but I don’t think such a thing exists.
I have no time frame. If there were, I could speed press hard to get over grief quicker. I want to be able to have some control over my life. I’m angry it’s out of my grasp.
But I don’t think there is a shortcut.
Perhaps it’s because I’m not a robot.
There are no clear steps to falling in love and no clear steps to pulling out. I think I’m too complicated for quick fixes. Such a feat would rob me of my dignity. It would be insulting, both to me and the God who made me in his image.
My selfishness and immaturity demand relief, but how can the created demand of his creator? Instead of disciplining me for my sin, he invites me. He wants me to trust him to take me to the next level of my faith, and I’m not positive I want to go there. I guess I don’t trust him enough.
God comes into my life and says,
“Trust God from the bottom of your heart: don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he’s the one who will keep you on track.”
Proverbs 3:5,6 (MSG) .
I don’t have much control now and don’t want to lose what little I have. This is where the life-changing word “trust” comes in. He wants me to trust in his good intentions, rest with him, and simply experience his goodness.
Isn’t that how relationships deepened? I spent Saturdays drinking coffee with Deb. Sometimes we’d cry. Sometimes we’d argue. Sometimes we’d work out the details of the day. There was no clear path on Saturday morning. Just sharing and listening. I think that’s what
God wants me to do with him. Just share my life.
Do I trust him to take care of me? Is he really on my side? Can he see my pain?
I think trust is an emotional word. It’s where I lower my resistance and receive. This is scary, but I think that’s what God wants from me.
I think “figuring out” and “trusting” are opposites. One is anxiety-driven; one is calming. One is self-reliant, and one is God-reliant. One is controlling, and one has no control.
Why do I always run to control? Hasn’t Jesus proven himself enough to me? Perhaps “not figuring this thing out” is a step of faith—an act of trust.
I think God is pleased when I need him so badly that I will collapse in an unrecognizable heap if he doesn’t show up. My plan is to prevent this, to grab the rope and hold it with all my might. God is inviting me to let go and trust that he is holding me as I swoop over the canyon of fear.
I think there is hope in letting go.
Lord, teach me how to let go.