The Sleep Insight

In the previous entry I wrote, “I continue to re-discover how much power simply having enough sleep gives me, when it comes to living in truth instead of succumbing to the whispers of lies.”

That sentence refers to something specific that happened, a particular insight that came to me.

There is this encounter I have been dreading. A person I don’t see very often will ask a question upon meeting me again. The only satisfying answer to that question will have to include the fact that faith is now real to me, and what I value has changed.

I expect the person to be shocked by this disclosure, and to be dismissive of it. As (not too long ago) I would have been dismissive. And I don’t want to see this. I don’t want the person I know to respond that way, or for that response to be part of our acquaintanceship.

I have not told anyone about this problem because I have not told myself about this problem. The dread was there, but I have just swallowed it and kept walking, allowing myself to be weakened by yet another unfaced fear.

But then one night recently, I got enough sleep. I didn’t plan to do that. I went to bed a little early and I didn’t set an alarm, and it just happened.

I woke up fresh, seeing something clearly, seeing something with strength and confidence.

I recalled that Jesus is the truth. “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” he said. Truth is his identity. To speak the truth in humility—which is the way he came into the world—is to speak Jesus into the situation.

Recognizing this changed the equation of the encounter I was dreading. I hadn’t factored in that God would be present.

The “humility” part is vital. The condition of “truth” is found not just in what is said, but also in the heart of the one who says it. Without humility, and without love, a merely true statement can be misused. It can be hurled like a rock instead of being set in place as a building stone. In the case of this encounter, that means I need to resist prejudging this person. I need to be open to the possibility that this person might also be hearing a call.

In fact, the dread I have felt—the fear—is itself a form of pride. Fear is the pride that says my own particular adversaries are too great for God to overcome them. Therefore, though I might feel afraid, I must not be afraid.

I should soften my heart. To whatever question is asked in this encounter, I should speak the truth simply, and see what comes.

Even better: I should speak the truth simply—and see who comes.