Not I, but Christ in me

When I began writing about my experiences with MOC, I overlooked the possibility of a small side-effect.

I forgot to consider my own feelings about my past as I wrote about others' present.

It is impossible to be objective, to detach oneself completely from what one does. We are, today, the collection of our yesterdays. More than that, we are designed to feel--one of the most beautiful features our Creator has installed in us. Without feeling, life is nothing but the passing of days, counting off hours and events until we breathe our last. However, some feelings can become burdens, weighing down on souls that are constantly struggling to carry nothing but pleasant sentiments and memories.

As I wrote, contemplating on what I have seen in the past months, my past sneaked up on me silently. I remember the despair, the frustration, the loneliness in a tiny hospital room. I remember being imprisoned in my own body, surrounded by the smell of air-conditioning and alcohol. I remember having no control over the simplest things, needing to ask for help for the smallest, silliest tasks.

What have I gotten myself into? Worn out and tired at heart, I wanted to escape from the firm grip of hopelessness, the monster that has come back to life from memory. I was torn between the fear of pain (mine and others') and the burning, insatiable desire in my heart to help and to comfort those in need.

I did the one thing that has never failed me. I went to the Creator of my heart, who has all the answers. Sweet assurance came down from above, gently lifting my heart from the web of dilemma it has spun for itself.

Lovingly He reminded me that it was He who saved me from depression when I had every reason to be sad. It was He who gave me courage to get up again from where I fell and keep going. It was He who made me play again even though no doctor could ever promise me.

Today, it is He who gives me new music to play. It is He who plays through me beside each and every sickbed. It is He who bears all of my burdens, including these new ones. As the Apostle Paul said, "Not I, but Christ who lives in me."

So I rejoice and am once again thankful to be used as His violin. There's nothing I want more for my life. Let me cry, let me laugh, and let me play for those whose paths cross with mine, because God made me this way.