I've [The General's] Got [Has] NOTHING To Say!

For the past two to three hours, I have been staring at a completely blank "New Post" document because I literally have nothing of profound impact to impart to my audience.  ("But, General," you all begin, "you've never said anything pro--" To which I promptly and succinctly shush you all.)  Initially, I had wanted to write something on the topic on Introversion, and I think I still will next week, but I just didn't have the will (or the motivation) to complete it.  So!  That being said!  Rather than trying to impress with my classic witticisms and ethereal prose, I will impart something that God has taught me, ever so quietly, this week.

Last Saturday, huddled under my covers, playing Mass Effect as male, Renegade Shepard, I could barely focus on taking down what appeared to be a whole colony of Rachni.  I was dreading the upcoming work week because I knew--I just knew--it was going to be hell, and what was supposed to be a distraction (i.e., my addiction to video gaming) was only serving to ratchet my anxiety meter through the roof.

It didn't really make sense.  I was no longer working at that Video Game Retail Store.  I had a sweet place of my own now.  I didn't quite understand where all this anxiousness was stemming from.  But as a deep seated Perfectionist from my early days as a zygote, I secretly knew it was all related to my unshakable fear of failure to perform at 100% for others around me.

I'll be completely honest, I don't absolutely not care about people approving of me.  I can tell myself otherwise, but as a naturally introverted person (SELF INSERTED PLUG, j/k, j/k) it is that much harder for me to get to know people, and it takes that much longer for other people to get to know me.  Ipso facto (I think I'm using that correctly, if not #sorrynotsorry), I try that much harder to come across normally because it's just easier in the end, but it's also much more exhausting (I'll get more into this next week).  So, in addition to my boss, there are my co-workers, my family, and then my roommate, and then people I run into on a daily basis, and then on top of all that, God.  By the end of all this people (and deity) pleasing, I'm drained.  There's not a single speck of "me" left, and the parts that are have withered and paled beyond recognition.

This is Psalm 30:5.  It reads:

For his anger lasts only a moment,

but his favor lasts a lifetime;

weeping may stay for the night,

but rejoicing comes in the morning.

 

I think sometimes I get so wrapped up in the present, in the temporal, that I forget that God transcends the limitations and boundaries man places on his own time and abilities.  I know in the past that I've remarked I don't pick up well on subtlety, but this week was different.  God reminded me of His ability to rescue my weary soul in small, seemingly random moments this week.  Whether it was in a friend dropping off Chipotle for lunch (well within my 3 times per week, thank you), or the trust of my boss to entrust a letter writing assignment to me, there was always rejoicing following the dread of the night prior.

Logically, I think I understand that not everyone will think I am as delightful and charming as I think I am.  But if there's anything I've picked up on this week, it's that even if I'm not feeling it in overwhelming waves, I worship a God whose favor in me is everlasting.  And in comparison, that seems pretty okay, to be honest.

Keelah Se'lai,

The General