Nor Ever Chaste

Last weekend I went on an overnight retreat at Sandy Cove on the Chesapeake Bay with 70 women from my church. The water was covered in ice as far as the eye could see, with little pools of liquid reflecting the golden sunlight. No ships could sail on that frozen expanse. I listened to the speakers teach about sacrificing our idols.

Photo courtesy of Dawn Esparza and Laura Zeender

An idol is anything that lessens my love for God. For some of the women, being comfortable was an idol. Others had let their own children become idols. We read about the story of God calling Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son Isaac. I knew in my heart what my idols were, but I had to grasp at words to name them:
...indepedence
...perfection
...control
These are sins of pride and fear. How it breaks my heart to look upon them.
My fallen self seeks its own satisfaction. I covet a life with no responsibility to anyone, where I am free to make choices without consequence, and no one can make me bend to their rules. I strive for a perfectly ordered and understood life that even kryptonite cannot corrupt. Worst of all, I try to harness the will of God and force it into the shape that I think will make me satisfied.
What is it that I am afraid of? I am afraid that I will not get what I want. I am afraid of being hurt or hurting others. I am afraid of failing. My fear is my idol, because I do not trust that God is good. No matter what it may look like to me (we see in a mirror dimly now), He is. His idea of good is infinitely better than mine. Only when I actively believe that and depend on it am I trusting God. He is wiser than I, and He loves me!
At the retreat, the speakers reminded us that we must crush our idols daily. Our sanctification is a bittersweet process. How I long to delight in the Lord, and how precious that delight is when I glimpse it. "A broken and contrite spirit" God will mend. As John Donne wrote:

BATTER my heart, three person'd God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee,'and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to'another due,	5
Labour to'admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely'I love you,'and would be loved faine,
But am betroth'd unto your enemie:	10
Divorce mee,'untie, or breake that knot againe;
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you'enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.