Young Blood & Old Ghosts
"There are ghost from my past who have owned more of my soul than I thought I had given away. They linger in closets and under my bed and in pictures less proudly displayed.” – Jennifer Knapp, Martyrs & Thieves
Hello Dear Friend,
I remember vacationing with a friend in Alaska a few years back and we attempted to go hiking. It was mid-May and the bears were just waking up from their hibernation. My friend was fearfully concerned that we would meet a bear. Seriously, it was border line irrational.
We started our trek out on a well occupied trail but she was still on edge the entire time. From the start she made sure to keep talking, even loudly than usual and if the conversation fell silent she would then fill that silent void with loud humming noises as she reluctantly followed behind me.
I can remember stopping a few times taking pictures of the scenery around me. As I was doing this I watched her head actively jarring from one direction to the next as she followed every noise and movement in a constant lookout for bears. She was unable to enjoy the sun shining down upon us or take in the beautiful views that lay out before us because fear had gripped her. At one point she even squinted her eyes and asked me, “What’s that brown thing up there? Is that a bear?!”
“Well, I don’t know what you are looking at because I don’t see a brown thing.” I answered as I checked the landscape stretched out ahead. Now keep in mind I said that this was a well occupied trail. The parking lot was jam packed with vehicles carrying people that were taking advantage of the adventures that awaited them on this beautiful Spring day.
But not my friend, she had one thought on her mind – bears attacking. I don’t exactly remember what happened next, it was either the snap of a twig or the rustles of some fallen foliage under our feet but something caused a noise that she found threatening. Just like that she bolted and took off in a full out run back down the part of the trail we’d just come from.
“It’s just a dog.” I yelled in the direction she took off in.
When she came back I was laughing. “I can’t believe it!” I laughed before jokingly stating, “You were going to straight up leave me to get mauled by a bear!”
“Haha,” she nervously released a laugh before confessing, “Yeah, I was!”
I shook my head almost in disbelief, “Well, jokes on you because I got the keys,” I said as I held them up, “and the car is locked.”
The fear, discomfort and uneasiness she felt became overpowering and a bit contagious by that point so it wasn’t long before we bailed and decided to turned back and do something else with our last day in Alaska. I’ve said it at least once before but I’ll say it again…let the fear loose and it has a way of taking over your imagination and running wild.
Old ghosts hiding in the shadows...
There are ghost from my past who have owned more of my soul than I thought I had given away. They linger in closets and under my bed and in pictures less proudly displayed.
I’m not entirely sure what Jennifer Knapp was referring to when she wrote those lyrics but I feel like there’s a part of me that could always relate to her song ‘Martyrs & Thieves’. The truth is we all have ghosts hidden and locked away in a skeleton closet somewhere buried within our past.
Imagine an alcoholic or any kind of addict with some form of a substance abuse problem. Although they’ve been sober for years, they will always be considered an alcoholic or addict. They carry their past with them forever and no matter how long they’ve managed to stay away from their chosen poison the temptation for just a taste will always remain.
In some ways I feel my story is the same. Yes, I was delivered from fear 10+ years ago and I have absolutely zero desire to taste the fear that bit ever again. But there are still days and even seasons when I catch myself with my guard down. In truth, those days will always come and go. Fear was a part of this young blood for a long time and there are times when I catch a glimpse of it hanging out on the sidelines. It's like an old ghost that likes to loom in the darkest of shadows just waiting for its opportune moment. It waits for that moment when it knows my shield is down and it can step out and try to devour me again.
When it comes to fear I always have to be present minded. Like a security guard checking the perimeter making sure that the barriers that I’ve built are holding strong and that there are no weak spots for fear to take a sledge-hammer bust a hole and sneak back onto my territory. Sadly I'll admit that at times its taken me a little too long to realize that fear is up to its old tricks again. Somewhere amidst those walls and fences that I so carefully built, a weak spot develops and before I know it fear has begun to seep its way back in trying to stretch out its hand in an attempt to grab me.
Sneaky little bugger is like a poison entering the bloodstream. It’s slow at first so that you don’t even notice it until all at once you see and feel the toxins take effect. I know this is such a hipster cliché but I’ll go ahead and say it, “The struggle is real!”
No seriously, the struggle is real! I’m constantly fighting with the ghosts of my past. To a bystander I suppose it probably looks like a young blood appearing to be boxing with shadows but little do they know or understand - ever hit is very real. I remember that time not so long ago when I felt I was underwater and sinking. Fear was this weighted anchor tethered to me and it pulled me deeper and deeper into the depths of darkness. Desperately I fought my way back to clearer waters. Swimming up further and further all the while struggling with each stroke as I inched closer to the top until finally my head broke through the surface. The warmth of the sun bathing me in its light as a rush of fresh air entered my lungs and the sweet relief that came when I felt the chains finally release.
When I look back at that old ghost I see a painful period of suffering. The haunting of flashing memories showing the evidence of what I used to be. These moments are painfully exhibited in photos on display in my skeleton closet.
I know that this sounds rather depressing but it’s really not. There are ghosts from my past, no question about it. But I like to think that I’m making a beautiful history for myself and that those ghosts are just a small part of my story. Because of that history I can look to my future in a different light. Sometimes it takes a little longer than I would like to admit to realize that those old ghosts are presently near and that even though I know what I need to do for some reason I hold off doing it. But eventually I drop to my knees and fight the spiritual battle.
Every time I begin to actively pray taking the fight to my knees I question what took me so long. You want to know the thing about those old ghosts? They think they can pull out the same old bag of tricks and get the same results. They seem to forget that that through Christ I have already overcome everything in that little bag they cling to and I can do it again much quicker since they’ve already revealed their hand and I know what’s coming. It doesn’t take 15+ years anymore. It doesn’t even take 15 weeks. Maybe on occasion it takes 15 days but I’m working on chiseling that number down too. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day and my story is still being written.
With love,
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