At City Church, we love to remind each other of God's story of creation, fall, redemption, & renewal. We also strive to remind each other that God's story intersects with our own personal journey. Each Tuesday for the next 8 weeks, a City Church attender will be sharing a piece of their story on our blog of a time when this intersection was especially evident for them. Today's story comes from Barb Duszak.
In late June, I was reading Tim Keller’s Counterfeit Gods and was struck by one thing in particular: when we have our eyes opened to our own idols, we must repent of our sin & rejoice in the Gospel.
Throughout the last season of my life, I have struggled with feeling purposeless. When I was a kid, I always imagined doing “great things” by the time I was 30: being known by others for my good works, intelligence, care, and compassion. I also thought I would have a husband and possibly a child or two. I wanted to be young, loved, and low-key famous.
I’m 29 and single. I have an enjoyable, unprestigious job, and I have been living in the same city for most of my life. Things are not as glamorous as expected. As I’ve grown up, fantasy became less realistic and desirable, but that standard still lingered in my head. Coupled with depression, my idol of perfection and greatness leaves me numb and paralyzed.
Throughout the spring and summer, I have often caught myself drifting and feeling like my life hasn’t amounted to much. Sometimes I feel too guilty to admit to feeling tired, stressed, sad, or used. Surely there are many who have it worse than me: the exhaustion and stress of the newly-promoted, the new parent, or the new homeowner. Why am I complaining? What right do I have when everyone else is growing their careers and families?
Luckily, my God is a God of hope and promise, who gives me ways out of my own pride and self-pity. I keep re-learning certain lessons throughout my life, and recently they came around again:
First, the comparison and denial of pain is futile. Additionally, no one’s pain negates someone else’s. While I may not have shared your experience, we can sympathize because of a shared emotion. Covering up my hurt from my community in Christ only caused more hurt. As I confessed my pride and envy to my community group two weeks ago, I was heartbroken by my own sin.
I realize that I am always ready to preach the first part of the Gospel to myself: I feel my brokenness and pride and know my need for a Savior. Tim Keller’s book reminded me to rejoice in God’s love for me as well. I had difficulty preaching the second part in that moment at community group. Once I got home, I turned to Psalm 139. It’s always been my fallback scripture when I am feeling low, and I was humbled by flipping to it that evening:
7 Where shall I go from your Spirit
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9 If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.
13 For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
Even here, in this dark place of sin that I had been blind to, God had been as near as ever. I easily get swept in wanting to be known, chosen, and loved, and all of that yearning is put to rest when I remember how accepted I am in Christ. God has known, chosen, and loved me; He has never stepped away.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Philippians 4:8)
Instead of fighting to keep this perspective, I am retreating to prayer and confession instead of waging my own mental battle. I am grateful for the forgiveness and connectedness my God gives and that reassurance and joy that He restores.