1 Peter 5:8--"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about; seeking whom he may devour."
If I had a nickel for every time my parents (or another spiritual leader) quoted this verse as I was growing up, whether in an attempt to get a point through my thick skull or in trying to warn me off a certain behavior, I'd not be shuffling paperwork for a living, and that's a fact. By the time I hit my teenage years, I could recite it without even trying, and would often just mentally check out every time someone started talking about the Devil tramping around like a roaring lion. Yes, yes, I know, I would think. Satan hates me, wants to see me stumble, etc etc I get it already.
But as is often the case with such lessons, I had yet to really see it in action. It wasn't until I was older (and, I'd like to think, wiser) that the point was really driven home, and I was reminded again of it this past week.
I struggled with issues of abandonment and rejection for basically my entire childhood and well into my adult years. It was a battle I was well aware of but didn't know how to win. But after years of love and acceptance from my parents, coupled with the gentle guidance of a dear friend in the Lord, I finally fought and won that battle last year, late in the Spring. I was downright ecstatic, of course, and even happier when months passed and it became clear I had really, truly beaten this thing, the one stumbling block I never thought I'd manage to clear.
I was confident, happy to be me, sure of myself in ways I never imagined I'd be able to. My worth was not in how many people liked me or how many friends I had or how popular I was; instead, it rested squarely in my identity as a daughter of Christ, in His love and regard for me. I no longer suffered from paralyzing fear of people's rejection, choosing instead to focus on what I already had--the love of my Father in heaven, and the acceptance of my family on earth.
And thus I continued for a year, happier than I'd ever been, carefree and certain of myself and my decisions. But in my quieter moments, even I had to admit I was still lonely often. I still saw in every interaction with others, every status update, every phone call, how different I was from everyone. How isolated. I brushed it off; told myself I didn't need acceptance or even friendship, that I was okay without it. That I was a complete person with or without belonging anywhere.
Besides, I have a fantastic family that I grew to love more every day, and I belonged there, so what else could a girl truly ask for?
This I continued to recite to myself whenever I felt lonely, to the point where I not only accepted my lack of connection with others, I found myself beginning to deliberately perpetuate it. I never went out when invited, stopped trying to have a social life altogether; opting instead to stay home and write, read, or otherwise occupy myself. I told myself (not entirely dishonestly) that the thought of going out was exhausting, that I had too much to do, that no one would really care if I went out and I didn't want to anyway. That maybe I had turned into an introvert. Yes, that had to be it.
Saying it aloud, it sounds about as healthy as it actually was--which is to say, not very. But in my head, it made sense.
I had no real motivation to change any of this, I was quite settled and even happy where I was. Until God spoke to me through my pastor a couple of weeks ago, when he and an Elder talked about how so many of us struggle with things for years and years, until eventually we give in and accept it as "our load to bear" or "our burden" or "just the way I am."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as they called forward anyone that resonated with to be prayed for. My own deep-seated isolation came to mind, but I wasn't convinced it fit the profile.
This wasn't exactly a "burden" to live with. I was happy. Fulfilled. Had my family and my faith. Besides, it wasn't really a fault or a struggle. It was just the way I was--different from everyone around me, unimportant and easy to forget, at least to the world at large. My lot in life. My problem, my fault, just how it was.
Still, to be safe, I sought counsel on the subject, and a couple of my spiritual leaders confirmed--this was indeed a re-packaging of my own struggle with abandonment and rejection; except this time, I had been duped into "living with it," "just dealing," and "learning to be happy despite this being my lot in life."
Satan had taken my recent victories into account--my understanding that my identity rested in Christ, my joy at having the family I have, wonderful as they are, my lack of fear regarding what others thought of me--and repackaged the original problem, presenting it in a new gift bag.
And I'd bought the whole thing.
Which was where the second part of my pastor's message--and the message that I want to pass onto you--came into play. Here's the good news:
God never intended for us to "just accept" our struggles, to "settle for" our "lot in life." As the song by Casting Crowns says, we are called not just to survive, but to thrive. He doesn't just want us to be content, or satisfied, or passively NOT unhappy. The life He intends for us, the relationship He wants with us, will leave us deliriously happy and completely fulfilled.
Do I believe we'll ever reach that perfect place in our lives? Not so much, no--but that doesn't mean we shouldn't strive for it. Keep an eye out, my friends, for sneakily-packaged struggles and burdens that the Enemy of our souls dumps on us. He is the Father of Lies and wants us to be broken under the strain of "our burdens to bear" and our "just the way it is" struggles.
Don't give him the satisfaction. Hold tight to your Father and your Heavenly family, stand firm and defeat the Devil at his own game.
Be undaunted!
