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The Appeal of Resignation

March 19, 2008

Sometimes, resignation is so aggravatingly appealing.

Right now, it feels like my only option. I feel completely helpless. I feel like there is no hope. I feel small and worthless. I feel like the only possible solution is to just resign to things as they are. To draw back and become as small as possible. To try to shrink into non-existence.

NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO.

I’ve just recently begun to really step out of that resignation thing.

Oh, how it calls to me. How it tries to lure me back in.

I chose it for so long. And I despise it. I utterly despise it. I want to live in hope. I want to ACTUALLY live in hope.

I would love to move away right now. To be in a place where no one knows the people who have hurt me (and who I have hurt, as well). To be isolated or around people who don’t know me or anything that I have ever lost. To be in a place where I have no reminders of that pain. To shut off my heart and not feel.

Augh! Why can’t I get that completely out of me? Why do I still fight these urges to deaden my heart? Why is resignation so attractive to me?

Will I be fighting this forever? It was a habit more than 20 years in the making. The Lord has brought me a long way, but I am not so foolish as to believe that I am completely in the clear on this one. Like I said… it still beckons me to find safety within it… death… resignation.

Spirit of Life, I need you so desperately. Awaken hope within me! Let me be found with a confident and rejoicing heart. God of hope, fill me with all joy and peace in believing, that by the power of the Holy Spirit I might about in hope. Holy Spirit, help me!

I choose to believe it right now… that these desperate cries are not forecasts of death but signs of revival… signs of life within me. There is hope for me, yet.

I cannot forget, hope is something that we must cling to. We don’t just choose it once and then float happily through life. It is the anchor of the soul, but we must hold fast to it.

Everything else seems easier. But I know that this is what I have to choose.

God, you see how my heart and my flesh are failing me. You hear my groan. You see my desperation. You know my frame. You know how utterly weak I am. You see how depleted my strength is. Help me. Oh, Lord, help me.

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One comment

  1. Amen. Ditto. I don’t think this is just a problem with you or even with us. Isn’t that the thing about faith, about needing to constantly say “Yes!”? The great battle of faith is not so much that we will dive into evil but that we will simply give up on the good, stop believing the promise, stop trusting the One who promises. Indeed, too much of what counts (culturally, not ultimately) for “faith” is just a passive acquiescence to an abstract principle. Knock, seek, ask. Wait *actively*. Frankly, I feel like I’ve been losing this battle but I’ve been newly invigorated. I’m sorry for the ways my resignation has seeped into your life. Again, amen to that prayer. And, from what I can tell, you’re fighting well. You may not see it, but from where I’m sitting, your strength is amazing (and encouraging and sustaining to others–to me especially) and you’re plowing forward. I know that I don’t know the details of every situation, but I do know that you are making a difference. And, again. Amen: come, Lord. Come to us here and now and make manifest your Kingdom in these frail temples.



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