“They [Adam and Eve] wanted, as we say, to “call their souls their own.” But that means to live a lie, for our souls are not, in fact, our own. They wanted some corner in the universe of which they could say to God, “This is our business, not yours.” But there is no such corner. They wanted to be nouns, but they were, and eternally must be, mere adjectives.”
— CS Lewis, from The Problem of Pain
Every syllable of this quote resounds with my heart. I want corners, edges, just the tinniest crumbs that I can call mine. The down moments of my day. The way I use social media. The side conversations, side thoughts. As if I can raise my hands when I sing-worship but can hold them closed while I live-worship. I would be “too Christian” if I lived all in, I rationalize. There’s got to be some corners that are unaffected. I’m looking for the out, the part I missed that can let me get away with parts that are mine own.
We’re always in motion, this journey of sanctification. And we’re always being convicted and having the darkness wrung out of us a little bit more. But I’m at this crossroads where I refuse to budge. My prayers sound like a toddler screaming NOOOO because she will not give up her toddler vice. (I have no idea what a toddler would have as a vice. It’s kind of late and I can’t think of words for what I’m really trying to say. Sorry for the ambiguity and random ramblings. I hope you get me.)
I am the Fall. I will always be the Fall. My heart beats with the desire to be the noun. It hit me today at work, I cannot continue living as the noun of my life and say I am honestly living in step with the Savior. I cannot continue living as if I am the center of my own story. Which strikes me as simultaneously the greatest unfairness and the most astounding grace.
Too much. Too scary. Too drastic. Too unsafe. Too radical.
But oh my heart, imagine the joy if this is real. If the surrender is worth it. If He comes through. The decrease will be worth every loss if it is filled with His greatness.
Oh, for more faith.