“Confidence” is a tangled word I often
avoid for fear of misrepresenting my meaning. It’s a concept we can grasp, but
what is it, truly? An innate “power” that we need only to set free? An ability
to overcome insecurity by sheer desire? In fact, I think it’s neither. Because
when I think of the confidence I ultimately desire, I know it is not and never
can be my own.
When I search my own heart and mind, I
find deep insecurity. Within, I find the fear of taking control and the inclination
to take control creating tension between each other. Perhaps it is possible to
find a balance between the two–but two extremes cannot create a synthesis
unless that synthesis transcends the nature of the extremes. How do I find
transcendence when I myself do not have the power to rise above?
Sometimes my fear of control hides
behind the face of humility; other times, my desire to control hides behind the
face of leadership. I long to have humility and leadership–but
I am only living a facade if I believe these values can be attained on a
surface level. My humility can only reach down as far as my insecurity, it
cannot reach the roots without breaking through. I want to grow from the roots
of humility and freedom, not insecurity.
And so, I must allow the sun–and the
rain–to touch me. I must allow it to reach down and permeate the deep roots
of insecurity and fear, and I must allow humility to grow in its place. But
replacing something I’ve always held onto out of comfort and fear will cause
pain as deep as the roots that have grown. So one more thing: I must allow pain
in order for liberation.
“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off . . .
“After a bit the lion took me out and dressed me . . . in new clothes.”[1]
___________________
[1] The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C.S. Lewis
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