Today is Sunday, and being a "day of rest", I have a few heartaches I'd like to lay to rest. The first of these is my complete and utter view of being a victim in my life; ie. blaming my parents for my shitty life, blaming my ex for being the reason we didn't work out, basically blaming everyone and everything for my sorry existence without acknowledging the real author of my problems. Myself.
I have shied away from the truth for too long; that because of my own choices in life, I am where I am today. It is my own fault that I'm not graduated from college, let alone high school. It is my fault that I am not making use of my obvious gifts and talents.
While circumstances have some small role to play, it is for the most part a life of my own choosing. And what, you might ask, is the choice I made that has created this? It is the choice of Not Trying Harder. The choice of Not Pushing Myself to succeed. The choice of Not Believing I Can.
The choice of not hearing God's promise to keep me in all things if I leave them in his hands.

The second thing I'd like to lay to rest is my fear. I have lived in fear my entire life; fear of others, fear of danger, fear of not being good enough. I cannot live like this anymore, and I won't let myself. Fear makes me weak, renders me unable to follow my calling. Fear keeps me from having fun.

Thirdly, I rest my insecurities. Too long have I grieved over my feelings of self-worthlessness, of seeing myself as not being worthy in a world that values the material and appearances over the matters of the human heart and soul.

Instead of telling myself "You CAN'T", my motto and daily words are becoming " Through God's grace, you CAN". Perseverance is the only way to really live. The only way to heal and give back to those that love me is to continue to push myself every day, towards whatever calling I may have, and to stop wallowing in my grief. What's done is done. I cannot undo my dubious past couple years, but I can move forward and live a better present, one day at a time.

My roommate and I went to service this morning, at a Presbyterian church within a twenty minute walk of where we live. I loved it! I was nervous going, because I have so many problems with religion, and with people that 'act' out those religions instead of just going to God. I have issues with people that look down on anyone that walks into their church not clothed 'properly'. I have issues with churches that preach sermons that made you feel as if they are trying to sell their church to you and empty your pocket to serve their purposes. This little quaint church was nothing of the sort; indeed, we felt very welcomed in a genuine way by the 15 or so elderly people that were there. The pastor was down to earth and had some very interesting things to say, which he said in a clear and concise way.
I love the old style church services, with the old hymns and the congregation responses. It reminds me of the the church I grew up in. While the new age churches are all and well for people that are not yet comfortable with the traditions older churches hold to, I am one of the rare people of my generation that actually craves it. No rock music in church for me, please! I love the simple, elegant hymns that speak volumes in minor keys. Poignant is my favorite word, and such services are that for me. They bring my to the reality of my humanity, to the sobering memory of my Lord's sacrifice for my sins. I love the old churches that have seen generations of joy and tears pass from childhood to adulthood to death. When you walk into these places, they truly feel holy, not just because the Lord is there with you, but because the spirit of love resides in that place.