On Fear, That Which Keeps Us Here

As I write today, I'm in a good amount of pain. Just yesterday I had surgery to fix a hernia I incurred almost 10 years ago. Why did it take me so long to fix it? Fear.

Fear of having to fully take care of myself. Fear of having to take full responsibility for myself. Fear of having to truly see my self-worth and invest in myself.

I've never fully taken care of myself. I rarely think of my diet, though I do exercise a few times a week. I have no car payment, I live in the cheapest apartment I could find, I own no furniture outside of that which fits in my bedroom. I scorn luxuries and niceties because I see them as immodest, unnecessary. But truth be told, I see them this way because I've forced myself into believing them to be so in an effort to justify my low self-worth. If I don't want them, then I won't have to justify not having them by admitting that I don't believe that I'm worth the investment.

It's the unending conundrum of Grace: That which we could never be worthy of, yet are given of it freely.

And so my surgery was a step in a new direction. I'm fully responsible for the bills. Nobody will give me money to bail me out of this debt. Never before have I been in debt, and I never really want to be, but it was necessary to take this step. I'm fully responsible for taking care of myself. I'm in the middle of a planned 5 day rest, and I don't have a dedicated caretaker for 3 of those days, so I must manage myself, force myself to rest, to believe that my well being is worth the shred of guilt I will incur from not working for 5 days.

You see, if I'm working, I can at least tell myself that I'm a productive member of society, that I'm contributing something to the world around me. Instead, I'm off for 5 days, and I feel like a lazy bum with nothing to contribute, leeching off friends and family. Yes, after only 5 days I dip to the bottom of the barrel, wallowing in despair that I've wasted my life, yet knowing full well that I'll be back at work on tuesday. Oh how glorious and irrational the human mind.

The other hard truth I'm coming to face is my own self-worth. I work because that's how I justify my existence. It's not enough to be me, to be the only me that will ever be, and to strive to be the best me I can be. I must give something of myself. Since I see very little of myself being of any worth, I work. Endlessly. I never take sick leave, I never pass up an opportunity to work, and I never shirk my responsibilities at work.
Yet here I sit, faced with the idea welling up from my heart and echoed by close friends for years that I do have something to give, something to say. That I've accumulated wisdom and guidance to share with the world. That my word may someday do somebody else some good. And I've seen it, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I feign humility, knowing that to accept a compliment would hurt my pride by forcing me to understand the role my presence can and does play in the world around me. How hypocritical, how ironic.

I know that the few readers of this blog are supportive of my endeavors, and they (you) believe in me. This I know. But I am a coward, afraid to acknowledge this, afraid to offer up larger portions of myself, of my wisdom (what little I have, at least), of my experience. I'm selfish in that way, thinking I have nothing to offer yet refusing to share anything that may be of worth. Again, I'm faced with the possibility that God has a plan for me, a plan that, despite my best intentions to muck it up, is still on track.

That, friends, is Grace in action.

As for fear, I'm still afraid. But the opposite of fear is faith. Not love, but faith. Trusting that God is good and good for us, trusting that friends and family will watch out for us, helping us as best they can, and trusting that we'll make the best decisions possible, in this life, for His Kingdom.