Living with Illusions

Most days I include in my devotional time readings from a wonderful little book called A Book of Hours.  It is modeled after medieval, illuminated prayer books, but this one contains several readings for each day that are short excerpts taken from the writings of the late Fr. Henri Nouwen.  I long have been moved, and inspired, and challenged, and instructed by things that Nouwen has written, and this book is no exception.

In this morning's reading, which came from Nouwen's book, Reaching Out, this is what I read:

"What keeps us from opening ourselves to the reality of the world?  Could it be that we cannot accept our powerlessness and are only willing to see those wounds that we can heal?

"Could it be that we do not want to give up our illusion that we are masters over our world and, therefore, create our own Disneyland where we can make ourselves believe that all events of life are safely under our control?"

Ah, illusions.  Probably the biggest illusion with which we live - well, the biggest illusion with which I live - is precisely what Nouwen suggests.  I would dearly love to believe that I am the master over my own world, that I can control things that happen around me, that I can control myself, my emotions, my reactions, my thoughts.  Wanting to be in control, then, means that I don't like to acknowledge my own powerlessness.

During these past three months, as I have been living through complications that arose from surgeries in November, I have been slapped up the side of my head with the reality of my powerlessness.  And, to be honest, I didn't like it one little bit!  I was dependent upon others for so much.  There was so much happening to me that was out of my control.  One thing I realized through all of this is that there still is some control in my life, but the control is not of circumstances or events or even emotional reactions.  The only thing within my control is my attitude... my response to what happens... the choices I make to get better, to be healthy, to live well, to keep my attitude focused.  And where I found my attitude most helpfully focused was when I dared to be honest with myself and with God... about what I was feeling, about what I feared, about the reality of my powerlessness.  My attitude was most helpfully focused when I realized that I was dependent - definitely not a comfortable place to be, nor something that is societally acceptable.  I was dependent upon others.  I was dependent, ultimately (and thankfully), upon God.

Through all of the things that I have happened, I have discovered new comfort in considering the life of Mary, the mother of Jesus.  We Protestants threw Mary out with the proverbial bathwater during the Reformation, but I think that was to our detriment, our loss.  When Mary was confronted with the message of the angel, she not only realized but embraced her lack of control.  Suddenly, absolutely nothing in her young life was "safely under control," as Nouwen so aptly describes our self-illusions.  And how did she respond?  She said - simply, humbly, yet powerfully and bravely - "Behold, the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word."

Her simple, brave prayer became mine in ways that it never had before.  Her simple, brave prayer gave me the strength and perspective to accept the shattering of my own illusions of control and power, and allowed me to entrust myself, my life, my future, and my healing to the God who loves me more than I can imagine.