When I get this way, my mind is the worst thing I have to contend with. I focus (dwell) on everything that's wrong with my life and actually refuse to see the good things.
I'll just call it what it is...
I imagine a nice, plump, barnyard pig, content, happy even, to wallow in his own filth and mud. He's perfectly at home there.
When I get in a funk, a lot of times I don't want to come out. I choose to live there...on purpose...
to be a grump,
to stay holed up in my dark cave,
to pull the covers over my head so that I don't have to face the world,
to bathe in the pain,
and like that pig in his pen, to roll over and over and over in the mud of my thoughts.
Because I lived in the gloom so long, it became the place where I felt most comfortable. It's the place I go to self-protect. The place I go where nothing can hurt me.
But while the mud once felt like home...warm, safe and secure. I don't feel comfortable in the mud anymore.
Sure, I get in a funk and can go to some dark places in my mind and for a time, wallowing feels familiar. And God isn't surprised by this. 2 Peter 2:22 says,
Of them the proverbs are true: "A dog returns to its vomit," and, "A sow that is washed goes back to her wallowing in the mud."
Sometimes we just return to the familiar and it's disgusting actually.
You see, the lights were turned on for me some time ago and I see now. I see what's really there.
In the mud and the mire are lies, deceptions, and falsehoods.
Lies that whisper, "No one cares about you."
Deceptions that scream, "You're better off in bed. Your family is better off without you. You aren't strong enough to handle this. You think God is good, but He's just withholding the things you want."
Falsehoods that foster feelings of inadequacy, depression, cynicism, fear, scarcity, self-loathing, complacency and apathy.
These are lies.
And I know the truth.
The truth is, I am no longer a pig who enjoys wallowing in the mud, I am like a sheep whose very nature detests the mud. The sheep would no sooner wallow in the mud like a pig than oink like a pig. It's just not who they are.
And it's not who I am either.
The mud and muck feels familiar for a moment (like a sheep who has gone astray), but as I linger there, I begin to smell it and the stench makes me sick.
I have a new nature and that nature loves and craves after the light, not the darkness.
And these things I know for sure...
People do care about me. My family cares about me and they need me.
I mean, just look at this (sorry it's a little dark)....
Knowing I've been quite sad the past few days, my husband brought me breakfast in bed today with a little note that said,
Thank you for all the times you took care of me on my many "Bad" days. I truly appreciate a great wife that cares about me so much and is good at showing me.
I love you!
And I actually think sometimes that he doesn't love me? That's a lie and I shouldn't entertain it for even a second!
I'm not better off in bed, I could get stuck there for days and days (some people get stuck for years!).
I am much better off out of bed because I have the strength of Christ and can handle anything that comes my way!
And God does care about me. No, He doesn't always give me what I want. But what I want may not be what's best for me, and He knows that. So, I choose to believe He knows best and cares about me so much that He gives me what I need, not what I want all the time.
Instead of the putrid stench of mud,
I choose the sweet fragrance of God's goodness.
Instead of wallowing,
I choose to get up and live in the lightness of joy.
Instead of the lies,
I choose the truth, and the truth is Jesus.
I choose to open up my hands and accept His gift of mercy because I so need it on the bad days.
Image taken from www.google.com
I like this picture much, much better!
Clean hands, open to receiving a pure, undeserved, beautiful, costly gift from Jesus' nail scarred hands.
In His hands is where I am at home.