Things I've Noticed

Wasn't Amplify good last night? God is good. ALL the time.

It was strange though. There was so much of God available, and yet I could feel so much resistance in the room. Weird. I sort of re-dedicated myself to God last night - in the quiet space, I recognised and accepted before God that I do what I do (in last night's instance, singing and writing) for God. Yes I accept and don't deny that nice comments are welcome - I don't think I'd be human if I didn't enjoy it when somebody says they liked a song I've written! But I do it for God, He is my Reason.

But the thing I noticed last night was that whenever I make myself vulnerable before God, I also seem to leave myself wide open to the enemy's little snide remarks. So, a bare half hour after my re-dedication, I was nearly consumed by self-doubt and terrifying insecurity (I also realised afterwards that I'd not eaten for several hours, which never helps my emotional stability). I knew it would pass, and it did, after hugs and chats, but during that time the feelings were nearly crippling.

Even after a few occasions over the past year when I've felt like this, and been consoled eventually and learning about my emotions and how I shouldn't always believe them, it's so hard! The only thing that stopped me from self-destruction last night was the knowledge that I WASN'T those things that the enemy was whispering to me; and remembering that I am accepted by Christ, and I am beloved of Christ.

It's still hard though. I wondered, and perhaps I will always wonder, am I the only one who doesn't find socialising easy? Am I the only loner around, and am I the only one who struggles to put on a brave face sometimes and finds it such an effort to go out and be sociable? Does anyone else find it hard? If they do, they hide it well - and I need to learn that trick... Sometimes it's easier than other times to go out and make conversation. Sometimes I crave company and crowds and people and talk. Sometimes just the thought of people brings on feelings of total panic.

I've found myself an awful lot these past few weeks running away in my head to the balcony we had in Finland, wrapped up in a duvet against the cold, watching the trees sway in the breeze and the lake twinkle in the sunshine. It's my escape, and I'm starting to rely on it - which probably isn't good. I must learn that I live in the here and now, and that my refuge is God and God alone. No balcony can compare to my God.