The Color of Disconnection

I wish I could just channel the words from my brain and my heart because every time I try to think of the right word or the right way to say something it causes me to stop and think and then rewrite and reconsider and doubt.

What I want to say and express is a very specific point in time transition that happened to me. It was a transition that took me from dark and dry and sepia and apathy to warm and wet and color and sound. Music. Love.

Apathy is scary. Isolation and disconnection are dangerous. Worse than hate I think. Not caring can be comfortable and status quo and numbing and easy. The worst part is the slow and steady decline. Not noticeable at first. Excuses. Real or not. Justifications and explanations for not doing this or that or reading this or that. Or talking. Or sharing. Or hearing. Or seeing.

And then it spirals. If you have ever been in a pretty good exercise routine and then stopped for whatever reason, the longer you stay away from the gym, the harder it is to go back. What is it about that? It happens with church too. Miss one Sunday, no big deal. Miss the second, out of town. Nobody really notices. Something’s happening. I don’t even know it at the time. Distance. Disconnection. But it’s still under the radar. The holidays. The flu. “Busy.” Third Sunday.

Fourth Sunday. Another excuse.

All senses. All things healthy. There is always a spectrum. Not just on or off.  Visualize a spectrum of color … not really color though, more like color saturation. And it’s a square, not a line. The upper right side is full on color. The warm corner. the alive corner. Picture a vibrant tomato red. This upper right utmost glorious bright gorgeous infinitesimal corner is LIFE. God. Perfection. Now add gray. Or white. Subtracting color. A point on this red spectrum might be called “Vermillion” or “Dusty Rose.”  Maybe that’s even what it looks like from the outside. Beautiful in their own right, but there is a mask or shadow of some sort that blocks out the life. Muted.  

redspectrum

Every step away from that upper right corner is a step away from God. And Life.

So, let’s say that red is my spiritual life. For the past 33 days, this is what I felt like:

washedout

Or, to put into better perspective:

iwashere

During this time, my health, my attitude, my mind, my emotions, and everything ME was in a state of icky gray. The crazy thing is sometimes you don’t know it at the time. That is part of the enemy’s scheme – to slowly drag you down to gray, remorseful, apathetic, isolated, lazy versions of ourselves. Sickness happens. Sadness happens. Bad choices happen. I would consider the darker parts actual bad things or conscious bad choices, and the light parts apathy.

rainbow

Fifth Sunday. I came in gray. I actually visualized it more as sepia. There was a little color, but it was just one tone and precarious. I had a headache (just the latest lie to keep me away from church). But then I saw a friend … lifeline … and picked up the jar she had left for me that I will use to bring her a Kombucha starter. And then I walked into the sanctuary. I was late, but there were still two songs. Oceans (my favorite), and I think “You are beautiful.” Might have been one other. Breath of life. Movements towards the color. Interacting. Seeing. Listening. Hearing. I think it started at my feet. The color. The warmth. I often cry at church during the music. That is when I am vulnerable. Tears washing. Water in the drought.

JO spoke of drought. Yep, that. Well, I sure was that -.dry and parched – but drought also means desolation. Drought means not being able to pour out. To just survive. Barely.

Psalm 32:3

When I kept silent about my sin, my body wasted away
         Through my groaning all day long.

For day and night Your hand was heavy upon me;
         My vitality was drained away as with the fever heat of summer.

Blessed by a loving friend praying the perfect words over me. More tears. MY GOD. MY GOD. How have I not sought you. I have suffered on so many levels. Not always in a “black” horrible way, but worse, in that light gray muted desolate apathetic way.

During the sermon I had opened my Bible app to read a verse we were on. It opened by default to the Bible Reading plan I had been doing. “Eat the Bible in one year, plus daily psalm.” Wow, I haven’t read this plan since December 17. 33 days ago. 33 days ago I had a neck problem that kept me from the gym. And multiple project deadlines. And relationship troubles. And the holidays as a distraction. And the flu.

In 33 days I hadn’t read the Word. The Word that is God. The Word that is Life. The Vibrant, warm, upper right corner glorious bright read.

As I walked toward my car, there was bright vibrant color at least up to my shins. Maybe even my knees. I felt like Dorothy landing in Oz. Wow, there it was all the time. The enemy didn’t want me here because he knew I would be filled. It would be Oz and the Universe and Life.

Over the next few days physical color came. Resolve came. Motivation came. Health changes came. I hadn’t been to the gym to exercise my body about 33 days. I hadn’t listened to music intentionally, one of my huge passions. Hadn’t cooked (which I also love). My joys went away as the color decreased. Music, tastes, prayer, reading the Bible.

The beauty is that we can switch direction in one second. ONE SECOND. Pick one thing. Read the Bible Turn up the music. Smell flowers. Take a walk. Do the next right thing. Your muted, gray colors representing the different areas of life may not all get brighter at the same time. Pick one. Connect. Accept love & give love. Be intentional. The color will come back.

Psalms 68:6

God makes a home for the lonely; He leads out the prisoners into prosperity, Only the rebellious dwell in a parched land.

I guess I wouldn’t say I’m all the way there yet. Some bridges to cross. Some things to finish. But I’m somewhere, in the future, and it looks much more colorful than it looks right now.

How did the spiral down happen? Slowly. Sneakily. Isolating, disconnecting. Withdrawing. Retreating. Second-guessing. Worrying. Believing the lies.

Face the color. Face God. Face the life. Little steps get you closer. But ya gotta move and do and read and take a step. The music sounds better. Tears of joy and gratitude will flow. Actually, right now it is magnified – everything is affecting me like waves of warm and inspiration and melody. Smells. Beauty. Songs. Stories. Emotions. Expressions. Connections. The OPPOSITE of icky gray.

Psalms 68:6

God makes a home for the lonely; He leads out the prisoners into prosperity, Only the rebellious dwell in a parched land.

Don't dwell in a parched land.

Because:

vibrant

 

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published.