One Tricky Step in Front of the Other

I have been going through a pretty uneasy spiritual journey in the last several months.  It isn’t so much that I’ve been losing my faith outright, but rather more like its stability has been thrown off-kilter by outside forces.  Kind of like it was on a gimbal or one of those carnival funhouse trick sidewalks that shift rapidly back and forth on pistons to throw you off balance.  And when I say “outside forces,” by the way, that’s kind of a clever little trick I’m using to deflect responsibility for my spiritual health off of myself.  It seems so much easier than taking the blame.

But really, that trick sidewalk analogy seems apropos for my current state of mind.  These days, some of my friends and church family might say that I appear to be making some progress in moving forward in my ragamuffin journey, but I always have that feeling that the ground beneath me keeps lurching and undulating and collapsing and reversing all at once.  How is one supposed to build a big strong house on a rickety foundation like that, especially when the sidewalk leading up to that house is so queasily shifty? 

That’s exactly what I’ve been endeavoring to do in the last year or so: build a stronger abode where Jesus can move in and lay down some spiritual feng shui action that clears all the junk out of my attic and pretties up all the rooms so they’re more conducive to a more peaceful, joyful heart.  Though, hopefully, not as over-the-top as a layout from House Beautiful or Martha Stewart Living … I gotta draw the line somewhere.  At any rate, I hope you get my point.  My ultimate goal has always been to hand over the keys to Jesus and let him have at it, give him permission to go through every room from top to bottom and do a major overhaul of everything he sees.  I mean, think about it.  If he was so impressive running riot like a madman through the market in the temple and overturning all the tables and whatnot, wouldn’t he be even more awesome about fixing things back up perfectly when asked to?

Frankly, it’s a miracle – literally – that I’ve ever seemed to reach a stable point or plateau from which I can step forward and up onto the next level in my journey.  I have long had a stubborn, fetishlike addiction to reason and those things that can be proven by tangible means.  The whole blind faith thing has never come very easily to me.  In fact, in my more rebellious moments, I’ve often told people, “I have faith, but not blind faith.”  It has always been difficult for me to let go and let God, as the old expression goes.  My personal insecurities, fears, dreadfully ominous regrets for my many sins even in the face of grace, and tendencies toward self-criticism are ruthless. That’s not to say that I haven’t made good faith efforts (pardon the pun) to change those attitudes.  I have tried.  I simply keep continually and habitually falling into old patterns that get me nowhere fast.  On the trick sidewalk that is my spiritual journey, all of that translates into one step forward, two steps back.

I know in my heart it’s all that human junk that has been tainting my spiritual journey in recent months.  This is one of many pockets of spiritual resistance that I seem to go through periodically, almost as if I’m involuntarily testing myself and my devotion to God.  Honestly, I can’t help but think that poking myself all over with a sharp-ended stick would be less torturous than the guilt-ridden spiritual brouhaha that I foist upon myself in these situations.  But despite my fetish for scourging myself by rehashing deep insecurities and spiritual doubts, I’m not so sure I’d get any jollies from the self-flagellation of my metaphorical flesh.

I’d much rather train myself to get a more stable and better balanced footing on the ground underneath my feet that constantly moves forward and backward and sideways.  I’d rather learn how to stand, knees locked resolutely, as I take one slow, tricky step in front of the other. 

After all, that may be the only way for me to make it to the front door where Jesus is waiting for the keys I keep promising to give to him.