where waves grow sweet

After John wondered aloud last night about whether a bomb had exploded in our closet, I decided to finish unpacking from our Thanksgiving trip to Sacramento and sort through a collection of various items scattered on the floor. As I was putting away my UGG boots, my eyes landed on an old pair of walking shoes sitting atop my shoe rack. They were retired at least a year ago, far later than they should have been, and yet there they proudly sat as if they still possessed some level of usefulness. 

The shoes look pretty rough from the top, but the real story is told when you flip them over. The tread is almost completely gone, leaving a slick surface incapable of providing a secure footing. The heels have collapsed or disintegrated (or both), allowing any rough surface to be keenly felt through the soft layer that remains, not to mention the sticks and pebbles that get easily lodged in the holes that go all the way through the sole. And yet I kept wearing these shoes despite months of John’s hearty encouragement to replace them. Not only that, but once I finally did, I somehow deemed them worthy of keeping.

I can think of a few reasons for these odd choices. The first is the comfort of familiarity. The shoes were worn in and had clearly worked for me – to some degree – for a long while. The second is having an outdated mindset that isn’t based in my current reality. While I now have the resources to replace things that are broken down or are not serving me well, that wasn’t always the case. The third (and the primary reason for keeping the old shoes) is the perceived need for a backup in case the new ones fail.

This whole ridiculous thing got me thinking about some old habits and mindsets that are proudly sitting in the closet of my heart, as if they still possess some shred of usefulness. The one that caught my eye was the well worn coping mechanism of self-reliance. I realize that our culture places a high value on this and it may look wearable from the top, but if you flip it over, you will see the absence of tread to provide a sure footing on the slippery surfaces of this world, collapsed surfaces that can’t protect the tender parts of our lives from the rough things we will walk through and deep holes that let sharp irritants through without resistance. 

Self-reliance most certainly bears the comfort of familiarity to me and I guess you could say it “worked” to some degree for a long time, but it ultimately brought me nothing but striving, perfectionism, performance and addiction. It makes sense that I finally followed the encouragement to replace it with something new, namely dependence on a very loving God and a beautiful, growing interdependence with my community. Since then, I have found myself protected from the dangers of the roads I tread, walking in safety and in the peace that comes from trusting my “equipment.” Best decision ever! And yet, despite the vast resources now at my disposal, I still sometimes get stuck in the old mindset of my own meager, self-sufficient resources. This creates fear and the perceived need for a backup to the new way. Hence the coping mechanism sitting on the shelf… just in case. And because it’s there and I know it so well, I sometimes put it back on and feel fortified, as if this broken-down thing could give me what I need for any circumstance that comes my way.

I am seeing the absolute absurdity of holding onto this mechanism, the old mindset that produced it and the fear that drives it. It just doesn’t make sense in light of what I know now; of what I have experienced of love and provision and abundance. So I’m thinking that, by the grace of God, I am going to throw it in the trash bin next to yesterday’s scraps and yesteryear’s shoes to head to the landfill where it belongs. Is there something sitting on the shelf of your heart that might be worth throwing away too?

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Romans 12:2