Life and Peace

Last night, the last thing I wrote in my journal before going to sleep was a list of comparisons between how I have been living (or struggling to live) in the past few months.

I realised that I've been involved in a conflict between two violently opposite powers: the flesh and the Spirit.

I wrote that the flesh has made me want to stay in this job indefinitely, until such time as I'm offered a "better" job -- the dream job that I've been hoping would offer me career fulfilment while enabling me to save the world one client at a time. According to the flesh, I am my own provider. If I leave this job, I will have no source of income. No income, no food. No food, I die.

So for months, I've been living in the flesh, by the laws of the flesh -- and dying by inches in a boring job that barely makes use of the richest talents my God has given me. On and on I slogged up a craggy path for which I was not suited. My face was constantly turned to the monotony of the rock face before me, instead of outwards to the views, the pleasant breezes and blue skies that had never left my presence.

Last week I reached a crisis point. The unexpected upheaval of having a suddenly flooded studio apartment threw me over the edge and, in that suspended, anti-gravity moment that occurs mid-air to cartoon characters and action movie villains alike, I had a profound revelation:

I can't fly.

And I didn't want to fall only to land with a thump and a squelch.

I knew that if I wanted to live to climb again, I would have to trust. I would have to surrender to my utter helplessness and call to the only One who could instantly be with me in that insecure place of free fall.

So, last weekend, I decided that I would stop living the life so opposite to my journal entries that spout off brave words about living by faith and pursuing a bigger purpose than survival. I would start living my journal entries.

Last night's journal shows a balance sheet of sorts, a reconciliation of what I was before last week and what I am now.

The flesh was worried about what I would eat. The Spirit has gently ministered to me with His promises of provision and a loving reprimand to not worry.

The flesh was worried about how I could afford to pay rent without a job. The Spirit knows His own, and He looks after them.

The flesh was focused on maintaining my current lifestyle. The Spirit wanted me to know that I'm living in rags while He's prepared riches beyond my imagination.

This morning, a verse popped into my head. Good old Paul, still relevant after so many centuries.

For the mind set on the flesh is death, but the mind set on the Spirit is life and peace.

Ironic, isn't it? In my anxious fretting over how to live, I was surrounding myself with death.

I have given all of those worries to Him now, this Spirit who not only brings life and peace, He is life and peace to those who choose to make Him all in their thoughts. I am so thankful that I am His and He dwells in me.

You can choose, too. Death, or life and peace? Seems like a no-brainer... but I have come to learn that when it comes to the things that really matter, I am often a no-brainer. :o)