[Somehow, the fact that I keep falling behind in this daily posting should fit in. . .I guess that's in the "needing daily maintenance" (#7) category!]
When I wrote this as a twitter post last year, I had two Great Danes. They loved it when I took them into the field I call Prayer Park--(slated to have a gazebo and rose garden and all sorts of stuff besides the labyrinth.) They also loved galloping, and had no clue that those little plants under their giant feet or tiny whips of trees that came up to their belly didn't like being galloped on. I kept planning to fence the labyrinth so they could gallop around it but not through it, and of course it never got done. Now, my two dogs are Pomeranians instead of Great Danes and it's a non-issue. Which might make the whole analogy even more pertinent. . .
Like many of us, I grew up with a poor concept of personal boundaries. I tended to either keep up the stone walls and razor wire, or share way too much. If I felt drawn to someone, perhaps someone I'd just met, but under "safe" circumstances like at church, I might spill all kinds of personal beans, yet when I began the long inward journey with my pastor/counselor I had a truly terrible time getting up the courage to tell him things I'd never in my life told anyone, but which needed opened up to some one, trustworthy person if I was ever to be well. "You don't have to tell me," he'd say gently. "But you need to think about telling someone."
Think about? Thinking about, I could do. Thinking about telling, I mean. I couldn't think about the actual Thing. I planned on protecting even myself from that reality, at least until heaven. Stone walls, razor wire, and machine guns. Maybe a missile silo.
"I want to stay safe!" I pleaded.
"Beloved, you only think you're safe. You are the one imprisoned inside--you let everyone tramp through and hurt you!"
This hurt my feelings. I did not LET everyone tramp through!! My walls just weren't high enough, thick enough, deep enough yet! Was this a good time to add the missile silo?
God was the one who breached the wall, of course. God had always lived inside the prison with me, bless the Holy Name! But getting me out was a long and delicate process even for the Almighty. I went through nine nights with almost no sleep during the Battle, but when it became abundantly clear that it was definitely God who wanted me to tell the truth (and there was certainly no one else to whom I would even consider telling it besides my pastor!!) then I girded my loins and obeyed, terror and pain notwithstanding. You can't live with God for long, even inside a prison, without learning to obey.
So the walls were breached. The strongholds came down (2 Cor. 10:4). New, beautiful walls and watchtowers, safe but not overwhelming, were (are being) built (Is 54:11, 12). I knew all this stuff theoretically. I'd written about it in Gardens of the Soul. Living it was a lot harder. But I'm here to tell you, the breaching and rebuilding were hard, but life is a lot easier now!!! Honestly, it is!
So. Question. You don't need boundaries against little, cute dogs, right? Only against big, strong ones. . . Or does God desire to give us (to change the analogy) perfect Gospel armor at all times (Eph 6:10ff), impervious to the enemy's flamethrowers but fully open to grace, love, and light, and with the armor, the wisdom to know which is which?
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