Out of Control

Yesterday's sermon was interesting. Interesting if you like being pinned to a corkboard like a helpless butterfly.

Well, maybe not that bad.

But have you ever sat through a sermon and suddenly recognized yourself? Suddenly realized, right down to the core of your being, that this is me? Have you ever discovered the true meaning of blinding clarity?

I did.

The sermon was on anger. Now, I have heard many sermons on anger. Sermons where the pastor unpacked the whole episode in the temple, the righteous anger of Jesus, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera (say that slowly, with a British accent.  Better?) I didn't really think I was going to get much new info. In fact, I was preparing to enter that zen-like state of receptiveness in which  I look attentitive and can even take notes, but in which nothing really "sticks," if you know what I mean. 

I know. I am not all I should be.

But then the pastor started talking and inside -- inside, I started squirming. I had that sort of "get that light out of my eyes!" feeling.  But I hung in there and was given a whole plateful of stuff to chew on. Stuff I am still chewing on 24 hours later. Stuff I may be chewing on for weeks.

I am an angry person. You wouldn't know this if you met me. I don't foam at the mouth or  tear my hair out. I don't throw chairs or purchase assault rifles. But I have this well of frustration in me that can errupt without warning. KABOOM. Mount St. Mom. I have always regarded this in two ways: 1) as a product of my upbringing, having been raised by an angry parent (but also by a non-angry parent) and  2) as a deep-seated and shameful character flaw. And #2 explains #1 -- I had both models and, being weak, tend to lapse toward the bad.

But I have a new insight into this anger deal: what if my anger has to do with my very deep need for control? What if anger is my response to things which are out of control, or even just out of my mental picture of how things should be? What if my anger is an expression of selfishness, of protecting my interests? What if it's an expression of my inability to be on top of every little detail, every eventuality, every possible permutation of every situtation that I may ever be in ever?

Maybe you're laughing and thinking, "Jeez, who wants that much control?"

I do.

Maybe not every day, but basically, yes, I want to manage all the little strings of my life. And the fact that I can't make the actual people and situations in my life match the pictures in my head often makes me feel like I am going to implode. Except that I don't. I EXplode instead. And I make myself nuts, feeling like I am responsible for the WHOLE WORLD AND WHY DOESN'T EVERYONE LISTEN TO ME YOU HORRID ROTTEN PEOPLE?

I am exhausted, playing Atlas. So why, then, can't I just lay it down? Why can't I give it to the One who actually can manage all the details?

Because being out of control, placing that control in someone else's hands, is the scariest thing I can imagine. Even though I know that person loves me and knows me so much better than I even know myself, it is excruciating to contemplate peeling my bent, crabbed fingers away. And yet, can I tell you how much I crave rest? To just lay it down and lay down. To go off duty. To really understand the limits of my role and the all-encompassing role of God in my life.

I feel like I just got a peek into my psyche, but it's the same message: the Christ-life wants to kill the Self-life. KILL IT DEAD. But to step out of the self life is hard --- it wants to live and it's not going down without a fight.

I have a lot of chewing to do.