The Belly Of The Whale

I am in the belly of the whale.  It is dark, damp and smelly.  I can’t see my hands and I can’t move more than a few inches.

 

Why am in this belly?  Is it my rebelliousness being punished?  Does God want me to learn something?  Or is it just cosmic fate?  Probably a bit of all three.  The God I know wouldn’t wish this on me.  But as fate has it, I’m here and there’s something to learn.  And that learning is a paradox.

 

My rebelliousness is that I want to change.  I want to change my fitness.  I want to change my mood.  I want to change my children.  I want to change my life.  Hell, I get paid to change minds.

 

God doesn’t want me to change.  He wants to change me.  Subtle but significant differentiation.  I cannot change.  There isn’t enough willpower in the world for me to change myself.  And there isn’t enough wisdom and articulation in the world to change anyone else.

 

So I must surrender.  I must close my eyes and see myself as God sees me.  Stop moving around, changing my circumstances in an effort to change my mood, my life.  And only in surrender and in seeing myself through God’s eyes can I allow Him to change me.

 

And the paradox grows from there.  God’s change isn’t really a change at all.  He wants me to be me.  He created me with talents, gifts and a spirit that is unique in the universe.  He wants me to be that person instead of the construction of ego and effort that I present to the world.  He wants me to accept myself and my circumstances as they are.  Only then will I be changed.

 

And perhaps it’s only in the belly that I can learn this.  I cannot see.  I cannot move.  God has me right where He needs me to be to change me.