I went through a phase a few weeks ago, in which I couldn't
sleep in my own bed. I live alone,
quite comfortably, in a female Residence Hall at Abilene Christian University.
My little
apartment is just the right size for me. However, after I
returned from Spring Break, I found that
I had developed a strong aversion to my bed. I didn't want
to sleep in it. I didn't even want to go
in my bedroom. I just kept the door shut for two weeks, at
least, only entering to change clothes
or grab needed items.
I made camp on my couch. It's cozy; I bought it at an
antique store and it didn't put any pressure on my pocketbook. It's Depression-era, and I've never seen
another couch that looks quite like it. I moved all my pillows and blankets into the living room and
stayed there for nights in a row. I couldn't figure out why I felt suspicious of my bedroom, but
I knew I felt more at peace with sleeping on the couch. So I decided I'd just stay as long as
I needed to.
There were moments when my domestic changes were a little embarrassing. My
friend, Bryson, came over for some coffee one afternoon and I'd forgotten to hide my bed
clothes in the bedroom, their proper home. I noticed him eying the couch, probably wondering who'd been
sleeping there, or why I was. My quirk was exposed. I found myself wanting to rush an
explanation, to say that I'd been napping there, that a friend had needed a place to stay,
that I was changing the sheets on the bed. Finally, I just moved the pile of blankets and pillows and
said that I'd been sleeping on my couch because I couldn't sleep in my bed, for some unknown reason.
His response was simple, "That happens to me sometimes, too. And I'm never quite sure why,
either."
What a relief. And what a trivial thing to get so worked up
about. I went in my room later and
looked around. And then I felt foolish, because the reason I
was avoiding my room was strewn
all over the place. Piles of books sat haphazardly shoved
against the wall. Clothes lay in piles all
over the floor. Emptied purses hung on door knobs. A
suitcase I'd unpacked halfway from Spring
Break was in the middle of the bed. A few glasses of
unfinished drinks sat in various places
around the room. In short, my room was a wreck.
I didn't want to face the mess. I couldn't be around it. I
couldn't even live life the way that I
normally do because the mess stressed me out too much and I
had no time to clean it up, anyway.
It isn't particularly profound, but it made me think of the
way that I hide my internal messes, too.
When there is something going on deep inside of me, when I
have secret sin, when I am sad,
lonely, angry, confused, jealous, hurting, experiencing
negative thoughts, I shut down that part of
myself. I close the door and go sleep somewhere else. I
avoid it as long as possible, because
figuring out how to fix it takes time that I don't have and
energy that I'd rather spend on
something less painful. So I ignore it.
But there are always the friends who stumble upon the clues.
There are always the people who
see the bed clothes that I accidentally left out in my
hastiness. There are the people who notice
them, glance over at them occasionally, and usually try to
be polite and either act like they didn't
notice, or ask about them in a roundabout way. But in the
moments when I choose to
acknowledge the clues, too, and to be open and transparent
about what they are pointing toward,
that friend almost always responds with, "That happens
to me sometimes, too. And I'm never
quite sure why, either."
I eventually cleaned my room and started sleeping in my bed
again last Thursday. While this is
easily the cheesiest analogy I've ever concocted, it's
reflective of a simple truth. I can't let those
things, those cluttered messes inside of myself, collect
dust and allow me to change who I am or
how I should live because I don't want to deal with them. I
can't ignore them. And when
someone picks up on the clues that something is going on in
there, I have to be open and honest.
I have to be confessional. If I don't, I'm avoiding true
community with people I love and trust and
who have their eyes ultimately fixed on things above, too.
My way would be to keep the bedroom door shut and keep
sleeping on the couch, because it's
easier. Psalm 119:59-61 says, "When I think on my ways,
/ I turn my feet to your testimonies; / I
hasten and do not delay to keep your commandments. / Though
the cords of the wicked ensnare
me, / I do not forget your law." From now on when the
clutter starts to build up, I'm going to
start cleaning it before it gets out of hand. In fact, I'm
committing to giving it a little attention
everyday, so it doesn't gain control over my life. The
Lord's ways are higher than mine, and I'll
willingly wade through the clutter if it means that I can
walk peacefully in His testimonies at the
end of the day.
Father,
Teach us to open up the places within ourselves that are
cluttered with things that we don't want
to see or fix or shed light on. Give us spirits of hope and
perseverance, that we may come to our
senses and move beyond hiding away pains and pasts and
things that we'd like to pretend never
existed. Walk with us as we wade through the clutter. Help
us as we pick it up and put it in its
proper place. Help us to be disciplined and to work through
the things that we need to work
through daily, instead of suppressing them and letting them
build up. Thank you for being a God
who makes us clean and pure and who does not leave us to
rely on our own ways and
understandings. We love you.
Amen
Erin Daugherty, Abilene
Christian University
The poem at the beginning contrasts those who destroy or
tear down with those who build. It is so much easier to ‘tear down’ in
our relationships than to ‘build up and encourage’. Being an encourager
requires effort and creativity on our part. Sarcasm, belittling, and
criticism often flow from our lips with ease. As a parent, or a spouse,
or a sibling, or a co-worker, are you one who builds up (ENCOURAGES) or are you
one who says hurtful words to others?
