The carrot of Yet
This morning, I cinched up my sturdy Christian underwear and headed out into the tropics, a.k.a. Indiana summer. Running in this heat and humidity is no joke. (But then, I did raise four boys, so “hard” is a relative term.)
Anyway. What came to me is how so many of us are chasing carrots; in particular, an ugly one called Yet.
The Carrot of Yet.
As in:
• I’m not good enough *yet.
• I’m not strong enough *yet.
• I’m not brave enough *yet.
• I’m not smart enough *yet.
• I’m not experienced enough *yet.
• I’m not quite there *yet.
• (And perhaps the worst one of all) I’m not enough. Yet.
The thing about chasing carrots is it always involves a stick. Carrots and sticks and targets that move, a horrid recipe for failure and defeat. A person can expend every ounce, every scrap of energy in that race, then collapse in a heap, giving up.
How terrible. How sad. How unnecessary.
What, I wondered as I swam through summer’s soup, was the antidote? What would the opposite be? Where, I thought, was the remedy?
Immediately, the answer came. At the risk of sounding trite, cheesy, and cliched, I will tell you. It’s love.
“Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love.”
The answer to our dilemma was given many centuries ago, and it holds firm and true to this day. Here in 2021, for those who chase carrots, there is hope.
As I plodded alongside towering corn stalks, I saw it. In my mind, I saw a path. A human being, precious soul, was walking that path, and beside–right beside–I saw the Faithful Companion.
I saw that the human walking was no longer being ruled by the old stick-and-carrots torment of oughts and shoulds. Instead, he was being guided so gently with that loving hand upon his back. As they walked, they talked and laughed and communed together with no hint of shame, condemnation, judgment, or failure.
Only Love.
It is Love that will walk us home. Love did not come to rule us with sticks or to trick and tease us with rewards He never meant to give. He did not put on a skin suit like us and suffer and die and rise again to abuse, torment, and forsake us.
He came to rescue us from the carrots and from the sticks, to take away the conditions. It is because of this glorious truth that the failures of our *yets* cannot disqualify us from Love.
This Love? It has a name.
His name is Jesus
I was intrigued when I saw the word “yet”.
I agree with what you said
It’s interesting, though, how yet has been helpful to me. “Yet, I still have hope “ “yet, I still believe” or for others i might say “they aren’t free of their addiction, yet”. He’s not responsible with money, yet” or “she’s not free of fear, yet”. It’s been a word of hope for me.
Just wanted to offer the other side of “yet”
That’s a good point, Kim. It depends on how you’re using the word. It’s like “but.” In many sentences that use “but,” you can pretty much take your pencil and erase everything that was said before the “but.” However, in other cases, it’s a powerful, wonderful truth. “But God!”