of all the liars...

A few months ago when I started this blog, it was simply a way for me to chronicle my journey of life. I wasn't finding the time or motivation to write essays and share them with others as had been my previous practice, so I succumbed to the world of blogging, and decided to share my thoughts in their shorter, less polished forms.

At that time, I titled the blog "Of All the Liars in the World" from an anonymous quote that sits on my desk that reads, "of all the liars in the world sometimes the worst are your own fears." It was a thought that is profound to someone who battles overwhelming fears on a daily basis. It was intended to be a reminder for me not to trust the things that my fears were speaking to me.

In the last week as I have had my faith challenged by some dear friends, and as I have personally wrestled and struggled with what the next steps in my life are, my fears have been speaking loudly. They have greatly intensified, and with them my depression has also grown.

The truth is that God told me many months ago what my next step should be, and I have chosen over and over to ignore him. This thing he asks of me is terrifying, it is something which I must enter alone, and it is something that is more scary than any other thing in my life. How can he be calling me to something which will leave my wounds open and exposed? How can he be asking me to allow my pain to surface? No one, not even God could possibly love me if the depths of my fears, my depression, my lack of trust in God and others was ever revealed.

On the other hand, it's not all that easy to love me now. I am a hard person to be around, and I often find it hard to be around people. I spend much of my time alone, because it feels safer, it is easier than pretending that life is rosy. I have been irritable lately - snapping wrongly at people who don't deserve it. I recognized on Tuesday night that this is a symptom of the pain and the deeper issues I am still hoping to avoid dealing with. I want healing desperately, but am not sure I want it at the expense of my dignity, of my sense of security, of my tenuous emotional stability.

I know so much of this struggle is a living and breathing spiritual thing. And yet, I wonder still how much of the range of emotions, the battle with depression is genetic? Several members of my extended family have suffered from or continue to suffer from depression. My uncle is bipolar. And yet, I have to acknowledge the circumstances of pain that have caused the depression in my family members, and the healing of that depression that has occurred as their wounds were healed.

I am stuck with this conclusion. I am no longer able to battle the fears in my life alone, and yet I find it an equally terrifying proposition to confide these fears to another person or persons and ask them to pray. I know my fears are liars, but I find myself caught this week in the stranglehold of their lies. I think I'll use my time off this weekend to gather my courage and begin to take steps. I'm going to the mountains again - with my brother this time, to share life, to quiet my fears, to gain courage to share these fears and ask for prayer.

I am caught again by the words of the father of the demon possessed boy to Jesus. They have shown up again and again this week - in church, at house church, and in books that I've been reading. "Lord, I believe, help my unbelief." God, help me.