I woke up on the wrong side of my brain this morning.
It became painfully clear when I casually logged into Facebook. I saw happy snaps of some honeymooners that made my 25-year marriage seem tired and sad. Their FB friends praised their love story and 241 “likes” approved of their collective beauty. I probably would have too … except I didn’t actually know this couple … have never actually seen them beyond the computer screen. But I really couldn’t be bothered with reality at that moment … or sanity for that matter … or any part of Truth. This morning I was too busy entertaining some aggressive assumptions and contemplating my healthy, loving, worn-out marriage.
This is just the latest example of my thoughts taking me captive instead of the other way around. I’m exhausted at my own bondage, and I am grateful at the true freedom that Jesus offers. But here’s the bizarre thing: I don’t always want to be rescued. Of course, I want to be free … but I also want what I want.
I’ve heard you can trap certain primates by simply closing a banana inside of a cage. Narrow bars allow a monkey to reach the fruit without being able to pull it out. In reality, it’s the poor, slow banana that’s trapped; the animal is free to go. But the monkey leaves no banana behind so he holds on, as stuck as if he were sitting inside the cage.
This is me! I am the monkey!
I’m not really trapped at all; I’m merely lured to stay. Have I not already been freed by the love, grace, and sacrifice of my Savior? At the same time, Satan tempts me to hold tight to my distractions, my sin, my selfishness.
Who in the world chooses to be a slave when freedom is offered?
Me, apparently! … And monkeys … and Israelites wandering in a desert …
My thoughts have gone rogue my entire life, so I know the hard darkness of wayward thinking. Ignore Biblical wisdom and refuse to take every thought captive with certain results:
good days wasted with self-preoccupation …
blessings missed because of lies …
loving devotion traded for brief obsession …
divine rescue mistaken for desert …
Thankfully, blissfully, I don’t have to do hard time. I just have to let go.
Written by a member of Pulpit Rock (who shall remain nameless)
