My past is my kryptonite. This journey forward has been bogged down by the muck and mire of my beginnings. I may not have started the mess, but I deepened the ruts. I hitched my wagon and followed the path of least resistance. I brought it with me. I have tracked the filth into each relationship. I sullied the potential, smudged all of the possibilities and then cast aside probabilities as tarnished. Me. I did that. I said I believed I was a new creation and then feared the same old stuff in the same old way that the old me feared. I react to the new with the poison of the old. Fear. Fear is the venom inside me killing my hope. Forgetting what lies behind.... only when I am not frightened. Claiming my identity in Christ... and then reciting the mantras of my past making my history my god. As a believer, I am more than the sum of my past. I am the recipient of a future hope. No ruts, no filth, no mire. The Gospel trumps everything. My past is my kryptonite. What'
Musing of a mostly sane, perfectly saved and yet entirely flawed bible believing woman and biblical counselor.