Thursday, September 3, 2009

Don't Look Down

The only way to learn how to do it faster, more accurately… is not to look down. When I look down I slow down, and I don’t learn. But I don’t want to trust my fingers, they don’t know where to go yet and I don’t want to deal with mistakes, I want to trust my eyes, then I *know* that I’m pressing the right button, striking the correct keys. I don’t like mistakes, they glare at me, “they’re wasted time” my mind rails… But I’m wrong, again, how can I learn how to do it correctly and quickly, without letting my fingers figure it out on their own?

Is life much different? How much does my inner pride squirm when I have to admit my own mis-struck keys? How much do I want to see before I press? How often do I freeze because “what if I…?”. How often to do I torture my mind going over my mis-spoken words, my stumbling tongue, my ‘not good enough’ writing? Even more so… how can I hear that still small voice when I let the cacophony of my ego, my pride scream out “don’t do it! You’ll mess up! It won’t be good enough!”

But that’s really the point isn’t it? I’m not supposed to be good enough, if *I* was good enough… how would anyone see my wonderful Christ? My beautiful Jesus? It hurts to be broken, to be threshed on the floor, I don’t want to be without my covering. But I have seen the path that fear takes me, I’ve felt the breath of the deceiver whispering in my ear… and I followed what I heard; I have taken the ‘easy’ path and seen the pain it has wrought. I will do what I can to not go there again. So I bow low, I open myself in all it’s hurting, broken ugliness and pray to my Redeemer “please, take this and mold it to bring you glory.” I quake at the uncertainty, I have no idea what His story will look like, what road I will have to take. But in my fear… I choose trust today.

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