Pirate Ship in My Eye

My idea of myself was wrong.
I’m getting to know myself in a new way, and it’s a little bit scary.

Exhibit A.

 
In Matthew, in the beginning of chapter 7, it describes what it looks like to be a hypocrite. It says:

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, “Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” Mt 7:1-5

On this trip, we talk a LOT about “being refined” and “being sharpened” and how awful/miserable/painful/uncomfortable it is, yet how wonderful and necessary it is.

It's like a tamale. The shell is nasty, but the inside is pretty awesome. You gotta get a big bite of the greasy corny shell to get to the beans and rice, and delicious goodies. I hate tamales, by the way. I just cut through them and eat what I like.

Unfortunately, I can’t do that with myself. I can’t just push aside the junk on the plate of my soul, and function on the good stuff.
Dealing with the gross part of me is unpleasant. It’s frustrating. I’d rather not, but here I am.

I knew I had a problem being patient.

Granted, I’ve never heard of anybody who really liked waiting, or needles. There are people who don’t mind it, and they don’t make a big deal of the situation. Then there are people who start to squirm and freak out. Nobody particularly likes needles, and I don’t think anybody particularly likes to wait.
 
I thought my impatience was more of an average person’s speck of sawdust than a plank.

Unfortunately, it’s a plank.
I think of the word plank and my mind goes straight to pirates. Well, picture an entire pirate ship stuck in my eye. Arrr, me eye!!

That’s about right.

The eye is one of the most sensitive parts of the body. It’s incredibly built. The eye is literally a masterpiece. If something is in your eye, you will know it instantly, and it’s practically impossible to ignore it (for a reason, ya think?).

The pirate ship in my eye is unbearable.
It hurts my soul. There’s no way around it. I’ve come to a point where I just want to scream, asking God why I’m so impatient. Why do things get to me? What’s the root cause of my frustration? Why do situational, temporary things affect me the way they do?

Sometimes, I don’t even know the real reason why something bothers me!

Being impatient easily turns into being unloving.
I can internalize my feelings, and “guard my lips” and try to hide the traces of frustration from my face, but who wants to live like that? It’s no fun at all. Where’s the love in that? I know Jesus didn’t walk around wrestling impatience to the ground. His heart was different.

I get frustrated with a situation, then I become frustrated with myself for being frustrated, then I become frustrated because I want God to just change me.
Kinda nuts, yeah?

When we get delayed or something crazy goes down, my teammate asks me “Helena, are you praying for patience again?” It’s valid reasoning. Am I the reason the van overheats, or there is a miscommunication, or the plans change? Is it to teach me? Is it to frustrate me to a new level of frustration, so I can break some kind of threshold?

It happened to Jonah, for God’s glory. The whole ship almost went down because one person ran away.
I don’t want to run away.
I want this stupid thing out of my eye. Now. …..impatience joke 😉

It was easier to be patient at home.
I called the people I wanted to talk to. I visited the people I wanted to see. I went to the places I wanted to go to. I bought the things I wanted to buy. If I wanted quiet, I had quiet. If I wanted alone time, I had it. I occasionally sat in traffic, although I avoided it like the plague. I multitasked left and right, doing something else while I waited, to distract myself from the fact I was waiting.

It’s a wee bit different on the world race.
Odds are, I can’t just call the people I want to talk to (cried about that quite a bit). I can’t see anybody back home. Most of the time, I barely know where I am. I have no idea where I’m going next, and when I do, I need to remember that plans can easily change. I can’t go home to my kitchen and make myself dinner, so I have to eat what somebody else makes or eat out (I think it’s semi-hilarious that this bothers me). Quiet? Lol. Alone? Ahahaha. I am always waiting—it’s like life traffic, and I can’t take a back road. It’s difficult to distract myself from the fact I’m waiting (although music in my ears sometimes helps, and praying helps).

So, as you can see, my impatience is obvious.
I can’t avoid it.
It’s a pirate ship in my eyeball.
It’s a wedge in my soul.
It’s a thorn in my side.
It’s a constant reminder of my weakness and imperfection.

I desire healing. I desire the fruit of patience. Then I could actually help somebody get the speck of sawdust out of their own eye. It says “then you will see clearly” and I declare that over myself. I will see clearly. I will be able to discern when something is actually an issue versus my impatience blocking my view.

Fix me, Jesus. Fix my heart. Fix my brain. Fix my concept of time. Fix my concept of grace. Fix my concept of love. Rewire me somehow. Make me unconditionally patient, and unconditionally loving.