Have you been pondering about what I wrote last week? The only solution that works absolutely every time for me when anxiety ties me in knots?

Is your soul dripping with the sweetness of being God’s personal concern?

Or have you— like me— already slid back into that nagging, normal, gnarly habit of anxious care?

And now you’re mad at yourself for one more thing. Flaggating yourself for failing, for falling. Again.

Here’s what’s happening:

Gosh, do we really want to go there? If ‘anxious care” is the gateway to becoming a habitually controlling person, it’s time to shout STOP!

Stop right now! Pull yourself out of those thoughts you can control.

How?

Back to I Peter 5. Check out the phrase right before the one I like about me being God’s personal concern:

Now wait just a second. Humbling ourselves is not the same as ripping ourselves to shreds. No!

To humble myself is to bow low before the God who loves me like no other. To grab onto His feet and cling with all my might. To humble myself sometimes means repentance. But often it also involves purposely putting myself in God’s presence and pouring out my jumbled mess of me and then waiting— not for a well-deserved whipping— but for His welcome.

My puppy is learning this same stance, right along with me. Usually he’s sweet as can be. All wiggly smiles and joyful enthusiasm over just about everything. Trooper is the very picture of delight.

But at least a couple of times a day he turns into an unholy terror. I have no idea what triggers that crazy version of my pup. But depend on it, it’s going to happen.

I tried shrieking (a natural reaction to razor teeth raking my skin), but that only makes him worse. I’ve tried calmly trading my bleeding hand for a chew toy, but Trooper prefers a little salty blood to flavor his day. And really, I don’t want my dog shrinking from me every time he senses my disapproval.

So now, I speak calmly and firmly. Sometimes I coo: it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe sweet baby… and just like that Trooper sinks to the floor in the bliss of the head-to-toe belly rubs he knows are next.

Now that might not work for every dog, but Trooper’s just a pup. And he wants, more than anything, to please me. He just forgets sometimes.

Can you hear what I’m saying?

When you forget. When you rage and worry and fret and try to control everyone and everything and then sink to the floor in a puddle of despair— you’ve just forgotten.

You’re not the wickedest person in the world. You’re not a hopeless case. You just forgot whose you are. You forgot that you are God’s personal concern.

So lay there for a little while and remember. Let God soothe you. Let Him lift you onto His lap. “And in His own good time He will lift you up.” He will!

Of course you’ll need to humbly apologize to whoever you bit in the process— no blaming allowed. When you draw blood you’re the one who needs to offer a band aid.

And there’s more. But this is enough for today.

Think on these things. Mull these words over. Memorize 1 Peter 5:8 (my absolute favorite translation for this is the Phillips) and maybe the verses around it.  

From my heart,

Diane 

P.S. Are you subjecting yourself to the age-old lie that to be humble is to be mad at yourself? If your answer is “yes”, please leave your name in the comments. I’d love to bring your name with me on my walks through the woods as I learn to worship Him in the face of my own inadequacies.