Friday, October 27, 2006
Had a nasty nightmare about snakes last night. Woke up in the middle of the night clutching at the sheets and threw my pillow (Elsa's pillow actually) across the room, before nearly falling off the bed, shaking. At times like that, all I can do is laugh (or snicker drily) at myself because the alternative of crying for days has never and will never cut it. Been there, done that. I hate that I dislike reading certain parts of the Bible because they remind me that there are snakes in this world. I hate that I can't visit the zoo, hike, trek or camp in peace. I hate that it taints all that I enjoy, even travelling and meeting new people. Fear doesn't just paralyse limb, heart and mind, it aims to kill. It tries to rob joy and erodes at any shred of self-worth left and leaves me wondering whether I wouldn't really be better off dead. If everyone had a God-permitting thorn, my phobia of snakes would certainly be up there with the big S-I-N. One would think that if I believed God gave or allowed me to have this fear, that I would hate God too. Hate that I am sometimes questioned whether I have been left to fear without hope of my fear ever abating. However as much as I hate my fear, I despise my sin even more and if my fear causes me to remain humble and wholly dependent on God as my provider, protector, guide, saviour, redeemer and maker, then, even as I collapse in fear, even as I have begged God time and time again to take it away, I am grateful that it keeps me in check, focused on my God and in doing so, I await the New Creation with more longing, yearning for the day when I may savour it and where there will be no more tears or fear.