I recognize His vigilance eclipsing as me. Christ is the watcher and observer within. He bends this heart to trust the Father, the Faithful One who reveals each step. To rest soundly in the mind of Christ is to quietly let go of the impulse to interpret or decode life, or to take impulsive actions in response to uncomfortable happenings.
A train is being derailed in my life for which I am eternally grateful. I recently noticed how pain from old wounds continually resurfaced. Any resemblance to that which caused the initial infliction could stir familiar feelings in me. It’s been my practice to “let them go” and to trust God to unravel the snares. I was judging the amount of “practice” I was needing when He painted the following picture…
I was sitting on a bench at Grand Central Station. Trains were coming and going. A familiar train came into view. Instead of boarding the train, I was glued to my seat and could do nothing but watch the train pass through the station. As I quietly watched “my ride” go by, the painful expression on the face of each passenger gripped my attention. As I looked closer, each passenger looked like a variation of me. I saw the “me” who was violated as a child, the “me” who felt uncovered and unprotected, the “me” who became invisible, the “me” who lost her voice, the “me” who longed for validation, the “me” who felt betrayed, the “me” who felt discarded, the “me” who felt reduced, the “me” who nursed her private wounds. Refusing to board the train offered an objective view. I saw that the recurring pain belonged to the ghost of “Susan past” and had nothing to do with who I am today. I don’t have to relive painful experiences any more than I have to board every train that pulls into the station.
Torment is linked to the illusion of a “me” who feels capable apart from Christ. She feels real; she suffers, she glories, she harbors injury. The world reinforces the conviction of her reality. Her illusion is deeply ingrained and there’s strange comfort in her misery; but suffering doesn’t make her a reality. Christ is shedding my old identifications. The real me would rather be “no one” (happy, free, relying fully on Christ’s impetus) than feel like a separate “someone” whose misery (or triumph) makes her feel alive. The false needs that have held me captive are nothing compared to the One who sets me free. I embrace the full eclipse of our union and trust that His life will overshadow the flesh that longs for glory it can never sustain. I don’t need the life pain offers. I’m free to be no one – offense, defense, forgiveness, and exoneration belong to Christ alone. I live safely tucked in the shadow of His wings.