A Girl in Music Ministry

Not my problem.  It’s not my problem anymore. How does it feel to wash your hands of something? To lay it down, to walk away from it, to turn your back on it?  If it’s something that has plagued you, hurt you, or weighed you down, it feels quite good.  Good riddance.  Not my responsibility.  Not my problem. Have you ever said that to your sin? I said it a couple of days ago.  I said it because those three words flashed into my mind and I claimed them.  And I kept saying them as I thought of what it meant, and the more I said it, the more power those words seemed to have.  I deal with shame.  Lots of Christians do because in our inmost being we want to please our Savior, but our battle with the flesh feels overwhelming.  We want to live up to the title “Child of God,” but we are convinced that a true child could never struggle the way we do. Most days, I don’t feel as much like a child of God as I do a child of the same old, deal-with-it-everyday, has-me-in-its-grip

I had a very hard week last week.  It all began with one negative thought, and before I knew it, I had spiraled downward toward the darkness. When you are in the darkness, you know it.  And you know that it’s not where you want to be. You know that light is possible and that where you are is based on lies and tainted emotions.  You know that it is not God’s place for you and that all you are feeling is the result of a skewed perspective.  You know in your brain, but you cannot transfer that knowledge to your soul.  Not while in the midst of the darkness. I cried out to God, “Why?  Why again?  Why am I right back down in the pit where I swore I would never go again?  I thought we were done with this!  I thought life was new for me!”  And yet I sat, the dark still holding on, manifesting itself in obsessive thoughts, anxiety, and hopelessness.  Why, indeed. I found myself questioning God, lacking faith and trust, and it broke my heart.  I felt myself teetering toward worldly