UPDATE: ABWE submits to a full investigation by G.R.A.C.E. Glory to God!
Here I sit, again. The music of Holy Week playing on my iPod and the DVR on pause as I unload my head.
My boyfriend told me the other night that not everything has to be a fight. (For the record, he and I were NOT having a fight. He was commenting on my general passionate/combative nature. He’s so far one of the only living creatures I don’t argue with. Go figure.) I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I wasn’t fighting, though. Sometimes I think there’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes I know there is.
I always fight. I fought with my father as a child, and I fought for my family against him on occasion. I detest bullies and have a finely tuned radar to detect them. I fought with pastors who wanted to tell me I didn’t love God enough because I couldn’t seem to “submit,” to just pray it away.
I fought with my faith on more than one occasion, trying to find a way out of it, around it, or away from it. I settled on finding a way through it and fought my way to Orthodoxy.
I’m mostly tired though. At least tonight, for no good reason, other than old ghosts wander in, wanting me to pick up that sword again and have a go. In some of these battles, I am alone, or feel like it. How heavy are these things we carry around. How high a wall we build between our souls and our God, between our hearts and those who come to help. How sturdy a barrier between us and the ones who wronged us.
Orthodoxy, true faith, tells me that I am to do things differently. I am to win by losing. I am to live by dying. I am to seek peace in the face of conflict. I am to pray for those who hurt me. I am to seek the restoration of those whose failings caused me pain. But it’s a hard road to walk, that one. We’re here, in this place, laid desolate and ruined by the FALL and the things we have done. And we want to make it right for ourselves. We can’t. We just can’t. And it is so hard to wait for Him Who Is to put it back the way it belongs. But we have to wait because we don’t know what it looked like BEFORE. We don’t have the picture to the puzzle. We don’t know how the pieces fit. We don’t know the why. We just know the what: the pain, the grief, the loss, the death and destruction of what we have become.
I believe in my heart it is always right to fight for another. I will continue to fight for those who need someone to go to war on their behalf. (I mean if you have a skill…) I know, though, I need to fight a whole lot less for myself.
Here’s a last thought, from an American saint. I discovered it today and it makes me cry:
One hates his enemies only when he fails to realize that they are not enemies, but cruel friends.
Nikolai of Zicha.