Let Me Walk on the Water

was never great at hide and seek as a kid. I’d get too impatient and give myself away, or I’d be too indecisive and wouldn’t find a good spot in time. It seemed like I always found a way to not stay hidden. Back then, it never really mattered.

I’ve found we’re all much better at hiding as adults, anyway.

I live in a world where there are many who know who I am, but very few who know me. I’ve been put in authority over so many groups, but I feel like a fraud and any moment now they’ll all see that. But even worse is the fact that I just don’t care. A vicious apathy is clawing it’s way into the corners of my life and spreading like a weed, choking out all the things I used to care about.

I am fire, angry about the things I thought I’d be and the things I cannot change.

I look around and see others being fully known by spouses, boyfriends, or best friends, and I covet that.

Fire consumes me and I let it turn me to ash till I am numb. I look around at the things I covet, and the fire is gone, with little more than a dull ache left in it’s place and a strong sense of disconnect.

4 years ago my counselor told me I was worth not being left and I broke into tears as the only whole pieces I had left burst into fractions. I sobbed until those words became true and I believed them. But somewhere along the way, the lie began to feel more like truth again.

I feel clunky and awkward and in the way. And though I try to ignore that, I perceive confirmation of it constantly.

I found a solution. Be perfect. Don’t mess up. Uphold this image of perfection, and no one can fault you. No one can be disappointed. No one can leave. It’s a great solution — until you aren’t perfect, which, by the way, happens all too soon and you find yourself crumbling under confrontation.

It feels different, yet all too similar, to that old friend depression, and I don’t want it.

Under all this is the shame of again? I was depressed. That’s my testimony. That I used to be depressed, and the Lord in his grace delivered me and now I live in freedom. So what now? What is my testimony if I become depressed again? How did I get back here and why can’t I stop breaking what the Lord fixes?

So I find myself hiding. Though I desperately want to be known and loved, I am afraid more than ever and I seclude myself instead. Insecurity is rampant in my soul and every action is analyzed a thousand times over before it is performed and a thousand times again after and almost always there is regret anyway. It’s easier not to act at all because that is safer.

But it’s lonely here in my safe harbor and I miss the sea, but I can’t find the courage to get back. I told another friend a while ago that I was afraid I was becoming depressed again and she nodded knowingly, saying she knows what it’s like to live with arms out, pushing against the fear of darkness. It’s exhausting, and while my arms have been out, they succeeded only in pushing away community. The darkness took no notice of my steady hands and crept right in past them, leaving me secluded.

The sun is shining out on the open sea, and the shade of the harbor has left me listless. In all my time at the shore, I have forgotten how to sail, but the first step is to trust the hands that built me.

The second step is to go.

Community has been here all along and they always embrace me with open arms. I don't feel like I'm hiding anymore. On the contrary, I feel altogether exposed with all my flaws and ugly spaces out on the table, and while it's far less comfortable than hiding, I know it is a good deal more healing.

I have grown to hate the apathy in me, infecting everything like a cancer and I want to fight it. Chemo-therapy for the soul in the form of the Holy Spirit. The Lord works and he wills, and always it is slower than I’d like. So there’s no answer this time - or pretty resolution - there is only the Lord working and a heart crying out, “let me walk on the water too."