Well Fortressed Ruts and Stubborn Surrender

I’ve spent the last several days in a rut. I’ve stubbornly walled myself into this rut, unwilling to surrender it. But why? Why would one refuse to cease wallowing in the misery of such a rut?

Being the self-deprecator I tend to be, I’m tempted to accept this as my own flawed mind. But then I realize that I am, in fact, in the ‘rut business.’ This is what people do. They establish these ways of thought or living that only quicken their demise. But yet they remain loyal to them. I can safely say that 100% of the residents and clients I’ve helped, and the personal counseling situations God has led me to, have all pertained to issues contributed to by such a rut.

I’ve strained myself to understand things that aren’t for me to understand. I been wounded by things that were never meant to be hurtful and do not really even relate to me at all. I’ve held tightly to what I value most and have attempted to project these values upon others as principles which they fail to live by, feeling disappointed in that. I’ve longed for what doesn’t exist in reality, and have failed to at least try to make it so, despite.

The emotions tied to these thoughts don’t have a name in this language.

I’ve guarded myself from the gentle nudges of the Spirit. I’ve intentionally avoided prayer and bible study. The walls wear, but I’ve continually reinforced them. It’s only been several days, yet incredibly exhausting. How do people live like this for years? Why would we allow ourselves to live like this for a day?

Do I have such pride that I cannot even surrender something so unpleasant? I used to never consider myself a prideful person, but I’ve learned that pride can manifest itself in many negative forms.

Although I’ve attempted to hold tight inside my rut of negativity, God is far more perseverant than I. And He knows my heart so well. He knows what makes it beat. What makes it break.

I found myself before a hurting child this evening. It could have been any child. And this child could have found himself in tears before any of the many adults in his life.

But there is no coincidence.

This was the child I’d been somewhat spiritually mentoring. This was the child who says he can hear my joy for the Lord and the Life of the Spirit in my voice when I sing. The joy and the life I’ve been neglectful of.

I knew immediately that I was supposed to pray with him. I caught myself and processed what that meant. It was a very clear train of thought. Allowing myself to surrender to the Spirit to pray for this boy meant surrendering my whole heart and mind. Allowing God’s presence to infiltrate shadows I had so ridiculously and inexplicably protected the past several days.

Of course, the right choice was obvious, but I had to think it through. I had to weigh it out.

Then I asked, “Can I pray with you?”

And few minutes later, we both stepped out of the ruts we had so stubbornly fortressed ourselves within.