They say a man can never step in the same river twice, both because it’s never the same water, and he's never the same man. Be that as it may, I can still feel the old me dragging my brand new feet into the same muddy riverbed. I’m not in the same water, and I’m not the same man, but the mud still surrounds my soles and grounds me. Seeps into my pores, and fills me with a familiarity I can’t brush off. I know I’m a different man underneath, but what can that stand for if the mud covering me still looks the same?
By nature, I try to fix myself, but my problem has always been that I can never step far enough away from myself to avoid the same rivers and mud-puddles that I’ve been flailing around in for so long. I can see that I am covered in dirt, and as much as I try to clean myself, my years of struggling have only muddied the water around me and rendered it just as useless. We’ve been talking about similar issues at Midtown (at least the last ones I was able to attend), particularly the Damaged Goods series. I’ve never had a problem admitting that I am an inherently imperfect individual, I can see the mud on me as plain as day, and the waters I wallow have become anathema to me. Seeing the problems has never been an issue, and consciously working against them has always been a priority, but to no avail. I sink further in as I try to bathe myself in the same river that soaks into me. And even now as I look at the Frankensteined metaphor I’m working with, I see that the answer has always been there. If I’d only looked at it as objectively as I always thought I did. I could look down at my hands and feet and see the mud on them, but the key was always to look around and find someone to pull me out onto firm, dry ground.
This has always been a weakness of mine, and even as I saw it, I could never see past it. It was the water around me that I never thought to remove myself from. Struggling to wash my dirt off for so long, I failed to see it swirling around me and settling back down on my feet. I never asked for help, I never reached out for a hand. I could see people around, people cleaner than I, and I would try to climb up and reach them, but not once did I just reach out my hand to take theirs. As I stumble along through this thinning imagery, I’m reminded of another element to add to the heap: the image of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. I’ve heard the story a million times before, but it wasn’t until I started writing this that I see the larger significance behind it. The lesson I had always taken was that of humility. That to be more like Christ meant living with a servant’s heart, and it’s always been a lesson I tried to hold to. Put others first. While that’s a wonderful lesson in itself, I believe I've misread the situation. To me it always read as "put other’s needs first, and don’t burden them with your own." I always tried to solve my own problems in the background, by myself. I was even reluctant to give them to God, and that was the root of my downfall. I could talk about my problems with God, and even a few select people here on Earth, but it was always on the terms of “I have this problem that I need to deal with”, or “I’m working hard to get this under control”, even with God, I simply tried to acknowledge the issue, and reassure Him that I was handling the situation. Oh, what a fool of such little faith I must be. I never gave it up to let Him help me through. I never saw the symbolism that it was Jesus washing the feet of his followers. That it takes Jesus’ hands to remove the dirt from us, to make us clean. That the weight of my filth is mixed in and subsequently washed away by the blood on the cross. Sorry to stretch this image for so long, I realize it may seem overplayed by now, but running with metaphors helps me think.
Looking back at these blogs I realize how many of my problems involve me being stuck in ruts, a creature of unerring habit. I’ve always seen recognition and acknowledgement of a problem as half the battle, but I’ve never thought about the fact that I’ve never really moved forward into the next half: seeking help. If it was of my power to remove myself from it, I daresay it would never have gotten to be a point of issue. I’ve heard it a million times before, but it’s time I actually listened to the saying “Let go, and let God.” I try so hard to be a respectable servant that I never look up see how my God wishes to serve me.
