Tame the Ghost

Tame the ghost in my head that runs wild and wishes me dead.

This is my favorite line from the song Lovers Eyes by Mumford and Sons.

I know what this means. It strikes a chord with me.

That ghost is called many things - the past, the future, the devil, fear, depression, self-hate, Satan, evil, self, etc. Some days I feel like a slave to the ghost (like yesterday), and other times I feel that I've tamed it.

But, how often have I spent hours, days, and weeks trying to fight it and kill it off and eradicate it?

I need God to do that work, just like the songwriter pleads. Left to my own devices, my weapons are broken. They are of no use anymore, even though they may sound useful. Talk is cheap, and I'm starting to think that emotionalism is as well.

I need to surrender the fight. I can't beat it. I need to take all this energy I've been applying to sharpening up my weaponry, and redirect it to the Tamer.

I have a mind that requires extra precautions, extra work. What takes others a couple minutes to move past often takes me hours and days. All the irritations of daily life - the resentments and the fears - wish that I would just take a drink and die. The ghost in my head wants to see me dead.

So, along the lines of yesterday's post about surrendering the schedule is the surrender of fighting the ghost (or whatever negative is going on between my ears).

Jesus said, "Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."

I've been spending so much time building up ammunition and strategizing and plotting the course to victory that I've gotten insane in the process. I've been playing God, trying to get rid of every little flaw by tackling it with more weapons, more work, and more energy.

But, doesn't surrender mean to die?

Doesn't surrender mean to let the ghost win?

Aren't I signing my own death warrant should I give up the fight?

My fear tells me yes, but that's just the ghost talking. The Ghost Tamer says, "Trust me, I can handle these bastards. Just get your weapons out of the way so I can do my work."

Maintaining emotional sobriety has two sides to it. On the one hand, I must do the work of keeping my side of the street clean - which means, I have to quit trying to clean the other side. That's somebody else's job.

Secondly, I have to do the work with an attitude of surrender - meaning, this isn't formulaic. This isn't mathematic. This is me doing what I'm supposed to do, and God doing what his will is. I don't get to produce the results any more than I can make someone else do what I want them to do.

I need more than anything to have the ghost in my head tamed, but I can't be the Tamer. I have to learn my part.

I have to learn that my insanity, my failures, my self-will that's run riot, can't be cured by more work or effort on my part. It's gotta be handed over.

This song's so powerful that I think it's good to listen to it after reading this post. It'll make sense if you're like me and can't seem to win the battle going on in your head. I need God in a big way and I'm willing to go to any length to let God tame the ghosts in my head.