Yes, we have all been wounded in this battle. And we will be wounded again. But something deeper has also happened to us than mere wounds.
I expect that all of us at one time or another have said, “Well, part of me wants to, and another part of me doesn’t.” You know the feeling — part of you pulled one direction, part of you the other. Part of me loves writing and genuinely looks forward to a day at my desk. But not all of me. Sometimes I’m also afraid of it. Part of me fears that I will fail — that I am simply stating what is painfully obvious, or saying something vital but incoherent. I’m drawn to it, and I also feel ambivalent about it. Come to think of it, I feel that way about a lot of things. Part of me wants to go ahead and dive into friendship, take the risk. I’m tired of living alone. Another part says, Stay away — you’ll get hurt. Nobody really cares anyway. Part of me says, Wow! Maybe God really is going to come through for me. Another voice rises up and says, You are on your own.
Don’t you feel sometimes like a house divided?
Take your little phobias. Why are you afraid of heights or intimacy or public speaking? All the discipline in the world wouldn’t get you to go skydiving, share something really personal in a small group, or take the pulpit next Sunday. Why do you hate it when people touch you or criticize you? And what about those little “idiosyncrasies” you can’t give up to save your life? Why do you bite your nails? Why do you work so many hours? Why do you get irritated at these questions? You won’t go out unless your makeup is perfect — why is that? Other women don’t mind being seen in their grubbies. Something in you “freezes” when your dad calls — what’s that all about? You clean and organize; you demand perfection — did you ever wonder why?
And that’s the memo.
By John Eldredge from Waking the Dead