[gersonian]

Lo! now your swift dogs, over stone and bush
After me, (a) straying sheep, loud barking, rush.
There's Fear, and Shame, and Empty-heart, and Lack,
And Lost-love, and a thousand at their back!
I see you not, but know you hound'st them on,
And I am lost indeed--escape is none,
See! there they come, down streaming on my track!
              (September 15, Diary of an Old Soul, George MacDonald)

A straying sheep is a status that I am fully familiar with, as I would think most of us are. It is a purposeful choice to stray. We might excuse it as a distraction or an accident, and it very well might be a distraction or seeming accident that finds us straying from the flock. We made a decision prior to those events that put us in vulnerable places.

It is often those choices that lead to other choices which lead to worse choices. I find myself then straying further afield than I ever thought possible. Then comes the sudden awareness at the sound of a bark and the swift sound of them rushing.

Shame often leads the way for me. A realization of my foolishness settles over me, and years of ADHD impulsivity and lack of focus have fed Shame, making it strong and swift. My first reaction is always, “I’ve screwed up again,” and old wounds, not fully mended, draw the pack right to where I am.

Fear takes the form of dreaded consequences or rejection of how my straying has affected others. Lack and Empty-heart are twin hounds that attempt to drive me further and further into their mother’s jaws, Self-Pity.

We all have our own mongrels chasing after us. They remind us of who we were, what could have been, how we have failed, how we have been hurt. It is important to identify these individually. It is when the pack is bunched together and there is no distinction between what hounds us that we become the most overwhelmed of all.

When MacDonald mentions last Lost-love, it should not be confused as something as trite as a lost romance of a woman. The words of John to the Church of Ephesus that they had “lost their first love,” namely Christ, is where all straying begins. When love of God wains and is not cultivated, the distractions of the World and machinations of the Enemy find footholds to pull us away from flock and Shepherd.

I rise and run, staggering--double and run.--
But where to?--where to?--where for escape?
The sea lies all about this long-necked cape--
There come the dogs, straight for me everyone--
Me, live despair, live center of alarms!--
Ah! between me and all his barking harms,
The Shepherd, lo!--I run--fall folded in his arms.
         (September 16,)

The visceral nature of MacDonald’s words here strike me full force and fill my soul with an empathetic response. These words could be my own. The description is my own. Desperation and desire for escape from the hounds that so desperately chase and nip at my heels.

There might be many times that we find ourselves in situations like this. Sometimes because of our own making, and others, it is because God is wanting to push us out of an area of self-reliance and into his arms. The only way He can do this is to drive us toward Himself. It is a sad state that God is often left no other choice.

In their book, The Critical Journey, Janet Hagberg and Robert Guelich discuss the journey of faith through six stages. In the fourth stage (the journey inward), they identify the fact that every believer must encounter “The Wall.” This is how they describe it,

The wall represents our will meeting God’s will face to face. We decide anew whether we are willing to surrender and let God direct our lives. Once we enter this part of stage 4, either through crisis, spiritual boredom, or a deep longing, we can easily become perplexed. Although we deeply desire to give our will over to God, and even believe we are doing so, in truth, we are trying to deal with the Wall in the same way we have gotten through life-on the strength of our own will or gifts. We try everything we can to scale it, circumvent it, burrow under it, leap over it, or simply ignore it. But the Wall remains. ¹

I think of the Wall as distinct though similar to other walls we face in our spiritual life. The key difference is that previous walls were partial. They were often spiritual, psychological, or emotional. The Wall is all of those things tied together and the only way is through it. It requires help as well and not just from God but from others to help us see how to pull it down brick by brick.

Ultimately, surrendering one’s self into the arms of our Shepherd and Savior in a new and complete way is the result. Some in the past have called this the place of absolute surrender. Truly our lives are full of smaller surrenderings as God peels back the veil and exposes the hurts, the idols, the comforts, the flesh, the lies that we all carry.

He has been in the business of doing this for all the history of humanity. Whether it is the suffering of the wilderness journey, the exile of Israel, the blindness of Samson, the confrontation of Peter after the resurrection, He confronts the broken areas of our heart and offers healing and safety if we are willing to “fall folded in His arms.”

There let the dogs yelp, let them growl and leap;
It is no matter--I will go to sleep.
Like a spent cloud pass pain and grief and fear,
Out from behind it unchanged love shines clear.--
Oh, save me, Christ!--I know not what I am.
I was Your stupid, self-willed, greedy lamb,
Would be Your honest and obedient sheep.
     (September 17)

Sleep is highly underrated by the young. I speak from my own experience. I have been blessed with never struggling to fall asleep, and while this still holds true, I started suffering from Restless Leg Syndrome and sleep apnea in my forties. A good night sleep now is a thing to rejoice. To sleep easily, deeply, without restlessness, nightmares, or fear is something to be grateful for.

The image stands for us who find ourselves surrendered to the arms of Christ. He can bring a peace and stillness like the air after a storm. The pain and grief and fear are the rain and wind and lightning that leaves a world more at peace. New life begins to grow from the torrent of emotion that spilled over the soil of our soul.

MacDonald speaks of how his sinfulness brought all this about. I want to point out that pain, grief, and fear are normal things to experience when surrendering.

Pain, likely, because you have been using something or someone to mask a wound you have never been willing to tend to properly.

Grief because that idol, that escape, has been a faithful salve to your pain. It is the thing that has seemed so reliable to make it through life, through each day.

Fear because what will life be like without it. Will God really be enough? Can I really survive? Will I really be happy?

Let me encourage you in this. Let me encourage myself in this. He is enough. He is trustworthy. Be His honest sheep. Let Him know all that you feel and all that you think. The Psalm of Lament makes up the largest portion of all the Psalms by a significant margin. God is not afraid for your pain, your neediness, your struggle with trusting Him.

He is the great healer, the good friend, the one in which all things hold together. I encourage you to find that first small step of obedience. I won’t prescribe anything other than for you pray and give ample time to listen to what He might want to say in return.

1. Hagberg, Janet O. and Robert A. Guelich. The Critical Journey: Stages in the Life of Faith 2nd Edition, page 114. ↩︎