Picture the scene; three men hold a beaten up old dude who's glaring at the leader of their pack, a witch Doctor he's been hunting. The doctor sniffs, then opens his mouth to challenge his captive...
"There are two dogs fighting within you, one is good, one is evil. Which one will win?"
The bedraggled man lifts his head and meets his eye and with a mixture of resignation and determination replies...
"Which ever one I feed."
When I first watched that scene I had one of sledge hammer through the head moments when you're transported out of the film narrative and struck by the truth in the scene you've just observed. I must have been reminded of that scene several times in the last year but it's never lost it's impact or accuracy.
Inside me there are two women. There is the Carla God made me to be and there's the Carla who wants to stick two fingers up to God, infected by the slime of humanities fall from perfection, who only wants to satisfy herself. My lifelong battle will be the decision between which one to feed. Sounds obvious right? Feed the good one. Bypass any faff, starve the evil, feed the good, but the niggly ratty me is pretty hard to kill.
Yesterday I sat down with Charlotte, fresh back from New Zealand and we downloaded the last few months, where we are with God and how we're living our lives. It was great to look back, to review; I didn't reveal anything surprising even though recently I've found temptation harder to resist and kindness an effort to extend. What I found was I hadn't been feeding my crappy dog, but I hadn't been feeding my good dog either.
Passivity is death. That's my conclusion. Since starting Transit I've been reading more the Word, I've read more Christian books, listened to more teaching and talked more about my faith than ever before, but I've found a cloud to my silver lining. When faced with a feeling of disconnection to God I would look at my duties and get them back up to speed. I've been using works to enrich relationships but inevitably they're meerly a patch a poor substitute for soaking in God's presence.
When I look back at my journal for the last few months it's spiradic, shallow, rushed, I've not taken time with the source of my imagination to really be inspired. I was chatting to Steve about it last night and I described my current walk with God like the sound of a cold motorbike engine on a winters morning... Put.... put........put..put..put..put.put.putpupupuppppporoooaaarrrrrr! I'm on the intial splutters of life. An amazing worship time in my room. A moment of prayer with a friend. A realisation and confesion in my journal. I'm enjoying the warm up but I'm hungry for the roar.
I need to remember that discipline alone will not feed my soul. The Word, teaching and prayer marinated in God's presence will give my kindness legs, my imagination wings. xc