Disciplined or Driven?

I’ve always been a black and white thinker. I remember my therapists saying, “You’ve got to chill out, let there be some gray areas!”

And I remember thinking that was compromising, only wimps compromise. Is that true?

I’m wondering what you do halfway?
And are there some things that deserve to be done halfway?
And is halfway related to balance?

Imagine the teeter-totter from your childhood. That hinged pyramid was situated exactly halfway between the ends of the beam where you balanced your butt. Ideally, two similarly sized individuals capitalize on that middle ground and lazily bound up and down. That’s a positive perspective on halfway.

But normally, when I hear halfway, I hear lazy, uncommitted, indecisive, watery, wimpy, undisciplined. Right or wrong, that’s my default interpretation.

So the concept of moderate exercise? It doesn’t exist for me, or didn’t until the uncompromising Jesus began to cultivate in me the mind of Christ.

The idea of a balanced budget? Not my cup of tea. Just ask my hubby. I’d rather watch the savings account bulge than enjoy the fruits of our labors.

Recently, the cogs in my brain have been on overdrive. I can literally feel my mind overheating. You see, I told you that I am writing a book. It’s a good idea, a God idea. I know that it is what He has been calling me to do for years and only now have I unearthed the courage to obey Him.

But here’s where the rubber meets the road.
Can I fully obey God and still fully rest in Him?
Can I be disciplined to sit down and write this book and still be able to set it aside and engage in relationships and enjoy all the other things God has put in my life and enabled me to do?

This is me naked.
This is me rambling slightly, trying to let you inside my head. It’s a little embarrassing that I can’t find the halfway point between doing something well and doing something obsessively; between doing something for God’s glory and feeling like I am responsible for God’s glory; the difference between writing a book because I have something to say and feeling like a failure if I don’t say it all today; the space between BIC (butt in chair) writing and waiting quietly while God puts the words in my heart – in His time. That’s the key: Obeying God, in His timing. 

I think, perhaps that’s why God is so insistent that we wait on Him. Jesus says in Matthew 11:28-30, that we are to come to Him and share His yoke, His burden. That implies that He does have good things for us to do. The problem is that I often bend down, shoulder the burden and then try to run off and plow the whole field on my own. “Look Jesus, see how strong I am?”

For you, naked truth now,
Do you struggle with commitment in anyway?
How about self-discipline?
How about resting?

Do you see a fine line? And if you can see it and if you can balance on it, will tell me how?

Body

Swirling around Body, are passions.

Tangled, unrelated, cruel, indulgent.

I swing at her with fury intent

To finally destroy, she who causes so much angst.

But failing that to destroy and remove her

I work to decorate what insists on remaining.

Add color, trim hair, paint nails, whittle her curves, diminish her shape.

Manipulate and stuff this awkward piece into a somewhat acceptable mold.

Passion, anger, hostility, frustration, discouraged.

On a warpath to find what will force her submission.

What has she done to me? What pain has she caused? What is her crime?

Like an abused child, she shies from the deviance and plots of my mind.

I see her crawl to a corner and hide.

Jesus, save me from myself!

I wrote this poem recently, drawing from old emotions and new. I wonder, other women, do you feel at odds with your own body sometimes? What do you do?

Thank you to Promising Poets for this award!

A Mind Is A Dangerous Place

A mind is a dangerous place.

We tisk when one goes to waste.

But rare we chide one over-wrought

For lo, it might per chance

By excess spinning

Random cast the dice –

And create a universe.

Surely by our heady power

Of worry, intelligence or education

We can extend a tiny fist

Past future’s protective womb

And prevent the cancer, pinch the flame,

Erase the pain.

If we’re aware of frailty, of the finite

We whisper, “All I have is God.”

Heresy! As if by last resort we

Skeptical approach, ask Him to blow upon our dice.

Lest we rightly evoke His wrath

Let us change our sore refain.

copyright 2012, Glenn Patterson

I have God, I have everything!

What is this that He chose me?

Confused, small-minded, ineffectual.

Until I believed – I have God!

I have everything.