It was the name of a sketch assignment for art class back in high school. I distinctly remember the picture I drew. In fact, I'm sure I still have it, stashed away in an old binder somewhere on my bookshelf. Yes, I am a professed packrat.
The eye of a girl looking through a crack in the wall...searching for something lost...her eye curiously caught staring at a crumpled piece of paper lying in the shadows among the dust...and all this merely centimeters away from a deadly spider...
No, it wasn't really a good piece of art for that kind of thing is not a gift bestowed on the likes of me. But it was real. It was how I felt then, a feeling I still stuggle with now. A feeling of being seen as something I'm not--and the fear of being something I don't want to be. For, the paper represents who I truly am. The message is crumpled, torn, beaten, bruised, and thrown into a secret place where it longs to stay hidden forever. The spider, well, he represents the fear of consequences, of knowing, of being found. And there I am watching myself defeated in fear, isolated from all things good and pure and holy.
That's what fear does best. Separate. Divide. Isolate.
"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; in whom should I be afraid?" Ps 27:1
Lord, help me to trust you with all things. Continue to reveal my weakenesses, but give me the wisdom and the grace to grow through them into the vessel You choose to use. Give me strength to stand wide awake to my sin and depend totally on you for cleansing, victorious power over it. Remind my heart, not just my head, that you are the only Forgiver of Sin. Purge me with hyssop, that I shall be clean; wash me that I may be whiter than snow. Thank you for the rod of discipline and the looking glass that reveals my sinful nature. Don't let me forget who I am so that I will strive to become more like you. You are worthy, Amen.
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