five minute Friday: on truth.
The truth always stays the same, doesn’t it?
For us, the truth is setting us free, the truth is the same, yesterday, today and everyday. It’s solid, and we can learn to grasp it, but it may take us our entire lives. The truth never changes, even though circumstances do.
My truth? It’s not my life, it’s not my current circumstance. Your truth? It’s also not your life, and your circumstances.
This is the great lie, that when we feel despondent, gray, weak, unhappy, we make it our truth, because the shadow of doubt and depression is such a heavy cloak. So we wear it. And sometimes it feels good, to wallow under that wet blanket. But eventually, we get cold, and we shiver until our bones quake and we yell, “enough!”
And then, when things are looking up, or smoothing out, we grasp this as our truth. If this falters, we cave. I have struggled with what is true for the past year. I’ve worn the cloak, nearly broken my bones with the deep shake of fear and frustration. And I’ve learned, “I can do all things through Christ,” and nothing on my own.
When I watch this woman dance her heart out, shake her hips, with a smile on her face, I also see an IV line and a hospital gown; she is nearly prepped for surgery. She’s going to have a double mastectomy. And she’s dancing. The truth is lit inside her, she’s practicing joy, no matter what may happen under that scalpel, or after the anesthetic wears off, when she’s braless.
This truth makes me cry.
My truth? It’s not what my life looks at, or what curveball may come around the corner. It’s not what I lack. It’s consistent and steady, a rhythm that is always pleasing to the ears. It rocks me to sleep at night, when my baby is in the hospital, struggling to breathe. It takes off the wet blanket, and says, “enough, no more, the Truth will set you free.”
Layer by layer, I’m becoming free.
More and more if I have the courage to practice joy.