Tethered to the Nothing?

Red flags of fear creeped into my mind when we crossed over the continental divide, although if I think about it, flags emerged when I first broke my arm last summer. I was stuck with very little to do and very little community for comfort. Couple this with my lack of activity-- teaching, writing, dancing, and cooking all "ceased until further notice"-- and a real anxiety began knocking on the door of my mind. It was as if all of a sudden I was aware of how much my life had changed, and I was at a loss as to where I belonged.

We all yearn for a sense of belonging, and often our greatest struggles occur when our social or structural groupings change. But doesn't everything change? Our relationships change, our bodies change, coastlines are all changing, everything changes, so when we tether ourselves to these mutating objects, we inevitably feel unstable. Some of us tether ourselves to busyness to avoid anxiousness, but busyness just covers up the real anchors. It's not until we are stripped bare that we can see where we are actually tethered, and more often than not, it's to something changing. It's the inevitable rotting dock syndrome.

It's not sane to anchor yourself to instability, but soundness is key in tethering. The word "sophron," is Greek for "sound mind." Without sophron, we make choices in the midst of unsound chaos. My "sophron" state slipped into a cacophony of spiraling thoughts that made it difficult for me find my bearings.

I love traveling, and I was excited and ready to get back out and venture into the changing landscapes of our world, but there was almost palatable panic when we passed from the east to the west, and I stood in the middle of nowhere. Even though this wasn't my first "Oregon Trail" experience, it was the first time I felt a strange agitation about the adventure.

There's something about the middle of nothing, stuck for days in crazy weather, with wear and tear on your nerves that instigates a world of scary wonder. When you haven't been able to saturate well on truth, serve others well in community, or even get away to sit alone for a while, you will inevitably view a once anticipated adventure as an antagonistic nightmare. People and places you once loved quickly become loathsome if you lack a sophron state of mind.

After a couple time zone changes, a couple rough weeks, and too much time post daylight savings, I began to feel lonely, isolated, and wound a little too tight. Thankfully I had the foreknowledge to stop the spiraling from spreading. Instead of tethering myself to a coastline, a community or a sense of control that kept me feeling comfortable, I realized that God wanted me to tether myself to someone who never shifts, fades, or changes. Then I don't make the same old mistake of idolizing false anchors in the future.

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today, and forever." (Hebrews 13:8). If we are anchored to someone or something other than Jesus (and even good things become our anchors before too long), we'll eventually feel a strange anxiety when those people or places change or shift. When we are stripped of all our usual coastlines, we'll grapple for any life-line we can reach. Often times the most unhealthy ones are the easiest to grab.

YET, if we wait out the storm, while tethering ourselves to Jesus, we will never have to lose our sophron. We'll be able to recall truth and victories in the chaos so that we don't give up on the journey prematurally. It's worth the wait when we finally arrive at our desired destination rather then settle for the rotting dock of familiarity.

~Tethered Carefully & Carelessly