I think most of us hope and believe at the end of all things we will hear “well done My good and faithful servant.”
But what if we’re in for is hearing the words “You’re done.”
In other words, you ran a race, you crossed the line, but there’s not much else to say.
We flatter ourselves – wait, let me reframe this: I flatter myself that the words Paul hoped to hear could possibly also be applied to me. I’m done with flattery.
I’m in a dark place. It feels like I’m done. A lot has been removed or taken away. College ministry – gone. The Core – gone. Teaching on Sunday – gone. My career – gone (see last post). I try to discern what God is doing.
What if what he’s doing is just taking things away because my faithfulness wasn’t enough? My efforts weren’t enough? My gifting wasn’t enough? I am not enough?
My time may be running out. What I’ve “accomplished” in my life may already be written down. This is it. And it wasn’t all that impressive. More fear than boldness. More dithering than duty. More safety-nets than faith.
I don’t know. And I don’t know why these dark thoughts are overtaking me. Maybe it’s because it’s what I would banish myself to if I were God.
It’s a good thing I’m not God.
In the meantime, I’m going to be stewing on this for awhile. Sitting in the ashes of my own inadequacy. Knowing I’ve never been enough, never will be enough, and am barely able to support the dreams that my family has, at this point. It’s like I’ve run out of usefulness but I don’t have the resources to be actually done yet. I have to keep motoring on, on three wheels.
Hoping the Lord either knocks some sense and grace into my head or helps me face up to this and take some better steps in the short time I have left to actually do anything useful.
I’m a mess.