The Fear of Being 'Frost-bitten':

'O! That a man might know
The end of this day's business, ere it come;
But it sufficeth that the day will end,
And then the end is known.' -William Shakespeare

Lord, help me to be patient with those around me- to love the unlovely, and, even, to truly LOVE those whom I already 'love'. All of my attachments and affections seem poor things in the inexorable light of reality. I'm afraid that I've chased after too many soap bubbles, erected too many pedestals, and when, as now, I'm angry and dissatisfied with them, the blame rests with me- it's certainly not the fault of my unwilling heroes. Nothing's the way I expected it to be, and the whole world seems turned inside out tonight. In all honesty, I might as well admit that I'm frightened- that I'm facing the prospect of walking away from everything familiar all alone, with no steadying comrade, and quailing at the thought. I promised You that nothing was too great a sacrifice, that I was prepared to 'die before I came', and I meant it then, but just at this moment I'm terrified by the prospect of a lifetime of such isolation- of eternally sitting in silence, or playing the third wheel. Lord, I know living sacrifices must surely quiver on the altar at times? Teach me to continually lay it all down again, moment by moment. I think it was easier, feeling that I knew precisely what I wanted, and was giving it up with a grand gesture of renunciation than it is to realise with bewilderment that I haven't the faintest idea what I want- that, if all of the old dreams were to be untangled and brought to any sort of neat resolution, perhaps I would reject them, not out of sacrifice, but for my own sake. And it's hard not to look back to the simple, uncomplicated agony of resignation with passionate regret, because it was infinitely better than this limbo, and blind apprehension over the future. Yet, the Lamb who was slain is worthy, is He not? Surely I've no one but myself to blame if I go leaping from the Rock in pursuit of shining bubbles and pretty facades, and find it all as bitterly dissatisfying as emptiness always is? Miao Li's prayer, which I myself posted only days ago reproaches me:
"If my Savior be honored
More by my death than my life;
More in sickness than in health;...
More through loneliness than companionship;..."

"I must learn that the purpose of my life belongs to God, not me. God is using me from His great personal perspective, and all He asks of me is that I trust Him. I should never say, 'Lord, this causes me such heartache.' To talk that way makes me a stumbling block. When I stop telling God what I want, He can freely work His will in me without any hindrance. He can crush me, exalt me, or do anything else He chooses. He simply asks me to have absolute faith in Him and His goodness. Self pity is of the devil, and if I wallow in it I cannot be used by God for His purpose in the world. Doing this creates for me my own cozy "world within the world" and God will not be allowed to move me from it because of my fear of being 'frost-bitten'." -Oswald Chambers