Fear

The fear is always there.  It lurks just below the surface prodding and pushing, demanding and dragging me places I don’t want to go.

I’m not afraid of death.

I’m afraid of life.

I’m afraid of waking up to a world I reject.  I’m afraid that the words ‘it won’t always be like this’ are hollow and void of any real power.  I’m afraid that the next bend in the road will lead me somewhere darker than death.  I’m afraid of being unknown, unwanted, rejected and alone.  I’m afraid that the next time someone asks me how I am doing I will tell them the truth and then I will have to watch their eyes widen and their face flush before I make a joke to relieve the awful pressure of reality pushing down on us both.

Me and Ariel

[This is a guest post from one of my favorite writers and favorite people: Annie Lent.  I'm praying for her right now: that she would use her voice to speak often.  And that she would believe she has Disney princess hair.]

The Little Mermaid was my favorite movie when I was a kid. I loved her long red hair and curiosity. I loved her cave of pretty things. I loved her crabby best friend. I love that she was bound and determined to see another world.

6 weapons to kill pride

Sneaky pride.

It messes everything up.

Pride is behind the anxiety I feel when I prepare to teach.  It urges me to meditate on how much I have to lose or gain.  Pride nudges me to plan more than I pray.  Pride prompts me to flinch in shame when someone talks about sin that hits a little too close to home.

Pride, whether it wears the mask of boasting or of self-deprecation, is constantly beckoning my heart to pull up a chair and watch a story-of-me unfold.consider others

Pride is a soul set on self.

With much enthusiasm

One of my favorite moments of The Gospel Coalition Conference was listening to CJ Mahaney speak about Adoption.

He shared a story from Garrison Keillor about a feeling I’m pretty familiar with:

7 sneaky symptoms of pride

The thing about pride is that it’ll kill you.  Forever.

The other thing about it is that it’s super hard to identify.  Pride is a distorted view of self.  If you ask someone who has that disease to tell you what they look like, the very nature of the disease makes it impossible for them to tell.

You cannot conclude that you don’t struggle with pride because you don’t see pride in your heart.  You must instead investigate pride by looking out for the symptoms (I stole this straight from a killer Jonathan Edwards essay):

pride