What I Desire I Avoid
“We gain the strength of the temptation we resist.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
A couple years ago, the chapel team I served on at my university went on a retreat. We traveled to my pastor’s house where we spent the weekend walking on a frozen lake, drinking coffee under warm blankets, and working our way through the Lord’s Prayer. We were asked to write a verbatim and do bidirectional listening. This meant that upon given a prompt ―related to the Lord’s Prayer― we were to come up with an unresolved issue in our life, write about it and then share. As others shared, we listened to God on behalf of that person and then relayed what we had heard. The prompt I chose to write on was temptation.
Normally when people think of temptation, and especially in a testimony-like setting, they think of all the wrong and misguided and ill-intended things one has done. Which no doubt holds truth in what I shared. Nevertheless, I have never been tempted by one thing or any one thing for long. I am constantly finding new coping mechanisms and almost getting addicted, and then finding a new method or reverting to an old source of temporary bliss.
I wrote a spoken word as my way of sharing what my real temptation is. I related it all to a forest and a certain tree in particular. This tree was large, intricate, beautiful and healthy. The knots on the bark formed an ornate and inconsistent pattern. It is good and beautiful, but I never go near it or admire it. This magnificent full-bodied tree represented my temptation: my tendency of an unforeseen need to stray and avoid anything good in my life. Whether consciously or not I accept that I will always suffer, and goodness is not in my reality.
At the end of the spoken word I introduced a small, pitiful looking tree. This tree represented something I refused to succumb to and refused to be near but was always a specific temptation of mine― suicide.
Two and half years later, I still find myself struggling with this. The environment I am in, and the people I am around give me no rational reason to be afraid or on edge. I have a good life with great friends and a great family. I have jobs that pay the bills, even though I stress about the money and number of hours I work, in the end I am doing well. My temptation to avoid good is morphing into my inability to cope with, live with, and accept the good.
This magnificent full-bodied tree is very much alive, and perhaps I am focusing on it too hard. Trying to address it and stop it from growing. I am forcing myself to feel the good, and creating this impression that I need to live with it rather than live in it. I cannot force myself to feel something. Thus, my happiness is still being fabricated, just for different reasons than before.
At the retreat, my pastor shared that God showed her the two trees I discussed. The ornate tree, although looked strong and healthy, was decaying from the inside. The pitiful tree was growing; it had strong roots and was getting stronger each day. She shared that I am likely striving for the ornate tree when I need to strive for the seemingly weak tree, and that it did not represent suicidal ideation like I had assumed. Rather it represented a new life forming and it was pulling from the forest of my vices, and life, but was not being defined by them. How I saw the trees was the opposite to what they actually represented.
I don’t think I was capable of accepting this information in the moment. The temptation to avoid good was a defense mechanism, and it was needed at some point in my life, but I no longer have use for it. Nowadays, the temptation to avoid good is God or my unconscious mind trying to tell me and help me to stay away from the fraudulent good. And that magnificent full-bodied tree is truly decaying, and the pitiful tree is small, but strong, healthy, and has a long life ahead. I can now accept this.
I am trying to figure out what is fraudulent and what is genuine. I see this quandary the most in my relationships and how I command myself, especially at work as someone who holds some amount authority at each job I hold. And in my relationships by being deceitful myself and noncommittal. This is something I am working on and will continue to work on. As I do so the magnificent full-bodied tree withers away just a bit more and the small little tree grows stronger each day.
Love and Faith,
Melanie J .Lofgren
Below is the spoken word I shared on the retreat:
Untitled: Part 1 1/15/17
There’s a moment when I look out at God’s creation, and see the goodness and the beauty. I then take a step back and focus on the object immediately in front of me.
A mirror.
At this moment I realize the lie I just told myself. Yes I am tov- I am good, beautiful, and work the way I am supposed to. And yes I have that tattooed on myself.
Though I can’t seem to accept it. The way I am supposed to be? Am I really working the way I am supposed to be?
I flash back to the moment when I look out at God’s creation. This time it is a forest. An image of bliss and beauty. A place I feel at peace. I then focus on what’s in front of me.
A forest of all my wrongs. All my vices. All my temptations.
I notice the dead trees. Things I’ve conquered: attention-seeking, drugs, and porn.
I notice the decaying trees. Things I’m still working on: self-righteousness, perfection, pride, anger, cutting, lust, and alcohol.
I then turn slightly to my sinister, and see it there. Big and strong, full of health and vitality. A tree I never saw. A tree that was a sapling I let grow too long.
This tree my biggest temptress, is a tree so intricate and ornate. A tree where you must stop to take a selfie with. To climb and submit to its utter power.
This tree, it is my addiction. My addiction to avoid and refuse any good in my life. A tree deeply rooted in a desire to stray from happiness and beauty and to live into my suffering.
I flash back to the moment when I looked out at God’s creation. The same forest. A forest with all my temptations, and also all my life experiences. A forest interconnected and interdependent upon the other trees. Connected underground serving each other, giving each other resources. Not competing. A system unseen by human eyes. I focus on the connectivity in front of me.
A realization and fixation I soon regret.
There are trees I worked hard to cut down. I put to death my old habits and vices.
Maybe this connectivity is why I relapse. Is why those trees never fully vanish?
There are trees I worked hard to cut down. I forgave them. I even reconciled with some. I pressed on!
And now. Now this connectedness. This Tetris of trees is telling me that rapes 1, 3, and 5 are intertwined with assaults and abuses 8, 10, and 12. And all those are following in the shadows of friends and pastors turning their backs on me. And my 11 years of depression is not a separate entity or experience from nearly selling myself into sex slavery or from my constant need tao sacrifice whatever I feel necessary just for another to feel slight happiness or comfort.
Because I thought I moved on from all that.
This temptation of tree. To just let it be.
A temptation to stray from good and to accept suffering and pain as normal in my life…
Is this tree why I create negativity and exaggerate experiences?
Is this tree why I don’t believe it when someone says they’d never take advantage of me?
Is this tree why I don’t believe it when people say or show love to me?
Is this tree why I don’t see the connected roots, the intertwined hearts of myself and my community?
Is this tree taking all the resources from the others? …without giving any back.
I flash back to the moment when I look out at God’s creation.
A moment and place absent of myself and my thoughts. Absent of any symbolism relevant to my life.
A moment I can actually enjoy.
A moment of pure bliss and peace.
I then focus on the Russian dolls of a tree that I hate and never accept.
A tree always there as an option.
A tree strategically placed by my temptor.
A tree I have never fallen victim to.
A tree right in front of me.
*scoff*
I will not climb that pitiful thing of a tree.