Therefore do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Cor 4:16-18)
One of my classmates at the Montessori training course this summer remarked at how calm I seemed to be even though I was experiencing myriad upon myriad of challenges…(moving to a new environment, adjusting to new housemates, a totalled car, a rigorous training program, the uncertainty of knowing my place in my new classroom this school year). I thought, well, here’s my opportunity to witness to her! Yay! I told her, I was not a strong person and I drew my strength from Someone. Before I could continue, she interrupted and said, “You must have a wonderful mom.” I said, “Yeah, but I have an even more wonderful Dad.” One of our other classmates who was privy to the conversation said, “I’m telling your mom!” (in jest). I pointed upward and said, “No, I meant my Dad up there.” I wanted to tell them all about my relationship with Christ, but alas, class was resuming, and the conversation, for the time being, was forgotten. Did my classmates get what I meant? I wasn’t so sure.
The world expects me to react a certain way when things go wrong…secular psychology propagates the belief that it is abnormal, even sociopathic to have no visible reaction (or detached) reaction to stress or trauma. At the very least, it is “weird” to be able to smile in the face of adversity.
Frequently, I can be bold and tell a person my testimony, but sometimes I feel like giving in to the pressure of commiserating with others who feel miserable or stressed out with deadlines, interruptions, misfortunes, etc. I tell them, “yeah, I’m stressed out” too even though I don’t feel it.
The truth is, deep down, I can draw from the peace Christ’s sacrifice afforded me. Why am I sometimes ashamed to say so? Why do I feel I must tell others I feel like they do, when I am commanded to be set apart and be salt and light to others? Why am I denying any association with Christ when I owe my life to Him?
C brought me to her church last Sunday (one of my church shopping activities) and Paul Chase, a guest pastor (all the way from the Alabang New Life in the Philippines, at that!) talked about how we should stand tall in acknowledging that we are “weird”, and that convicted me. <I find it amazing that each time I read the Scriptures, or listen to a sermon, something that is pertinent to my situation jumps out and speaks to me.>
I am so humbled in His presence, knowing that He still loves me even though I fall short of what is expected of me. I am assured that, like parents love their children, God loves me not because I am a good daughter, but just because I am His. And that, gives me peace.