One phrase frequently whispers in my ear, “Trust the process.” When it comes to the healing process, I am usually kicking and screaming. Trusting the process takes me out of control. I like to be in control of everything. When I am in control, I set the pace, I foresee potential obstacles, and I determine what I reveal. Mostly, control is about keeping me emotionally and physically safe. Trusting the process is letting go of control; letting go of the need to be in the know regarding everything that is happening to me.
They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. When I limit the healing process to my own devises, this is equally insane. It is not that I do not know a few things about healing. I have a degree of self-awareness and clinical knowledge. In other words, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Unfortunately, my little bag of tricks does not include a magic wand capable of making things instantly better.
There was a time in life when I would have wanted instant healing. Seriously, just make it all go away. Fortunately, healing was (and is) a process. For it is in the process, in the throes of the unknown that I find grace.
One of the stupidest things I ever did in college was trust a couple of amateurs to lead a group of us through Grindstone cave in the heart of East Tennessee. The adult in me says it was stupid because ten of us entered this cave with no ropes, no emergency supplies, no signals or flares, and no plan if something had gone wrong. But there I was winding through the cave, crawling on ledges, sliding down tubes barely wide enough, and having the most exhilarating experience of my life. We found ourselves in a large room and gathered all together, we turned off our lights and sat in the silence. In the pure darkness where I could not even see my hand in front of me let alone my next step, I found peace.
The adult me would never trust a couple of college freshman to guide me through the dark corridors of an adventure, and there is probably some wisdom there. But, and this is a big but, we are called to trust the healing process. We are called to listen to the voice of the Shepherd and blindly follow. We are called to trust, but the one we are trusting has been there. He was not ashamed to weep over the death of a friend. He was not ashamed of the agony he experienced on a dark lonely night in a garden. We are called to trust a leader who is not afraid of the suffering and grief that can accompany a healing journey.
The adult me does not like to be led – I much prefer to be the one steering the course of my destiny. But, I seem to steer it in the same direction of self-protection, withdrawal, and avoidance. And then I wonder why it is I seem to reach the same disappointing conclusions. I feel safe, but I am stuck on a loop. When I am brave enough to trust the process, to follow the leader, to walk the path of my emotions, to face pain and suffering, then I begin to experience something new. I break out of my craziness. I find I am surprised by vitality and overwhelmed by grace. As I trust the process and share my story I find that I am not alone. I am connected to a Community and a Christ that is walking through the process with me.
Next . . . “U” as in Upside Down.
They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. When I limit the healing process to my own devises, this is equally insane. It is not that I do not know a few things about healing. I have a degree of self-awareness and clinical knowledge. In other words, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Unfortunately, my little bag of tricks does not include a magic wand capable of making things instantly better.
There was a time in life when I would have wanted instant healing. Seriously, just make it all go away. Fortunately, healing was (and is) a process. For it is in the process, in the throes of the unknown that I find grace.
One of the stupidest things I ever did in college was trust a couple of amateurs to lead a group of us through Grindstone cave in the heart of East Tennessee. The adult in me says it was stupid because ten of us entered this cave with no ropes, no emergency supplies, no signals or flares, and no plan if something had gone wrong. But there I was winding through the cave, crawling on ledges, sliding down tubes barely wide enough, and having the most exhilarating experience of my life. We found ourselves in a large room and gathered all together, we turned off our lights and sat in the silence. In the pure darkness where I could not even see my hand in front of me let alone my next step, I found peace.
The adult me would never trust a couple of college freshman to guide me through the dark corridors of an adventure, and there is probably some wisdom there. But, and this is a big but, we are called to trust the healing process. We are called to listen to the voice of the Shepherd and blindly follow. We are called to trust, but the one we are trusting has been there. He was not ashamed to weep over the death of a friend. He was not ashamed of the agony he experienced on a dark lonely night in a garden. We are called to trust a leader who is not afraid of the suffering and grief that can accompany a healing journey.
The adult me does not like to be led – I much prefer to be the one steering the course of my destiny. But, I seem to steer it in the same direction of self-protection, withdrawal, and avoidance. And then I wonder why it is I seem to reach the same disappointing conclusions. I feel safe, but I am stuck on a loop. When I am brave enough to trust the process, to follow the leader, to walk the path of my emotions, to face pain and suffering, then I begin to experience something new. I break out of my craziness. I find I am surprised by vitality and overwhelmed by grace. As I trust the process and share my story I find that I am not alone. I am connected to a Community and a Christ that is walking through the process with me.
Next . . . “U” as in Upside Down.
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