Who am I?

Photo by Elina Krima from Pexels

The mind, at times, can be the strangest thing, can’t it? One minute that grey matter in our our own little space is perfectly hunky-dory. But in an instant, it can all change. At least in my case it does. I can’t write about you because I don’t know what goes on in your noggin. So what I will do is offer you me and you can draw your own comparisons.

Every once in a while I find myself asking myself “who am I?” Typically that will come from one of two situations or circumstances I just experienced–when I have a nasty temper tantrum (that’s never a pretty thing), or when I have done something profoundly kind and loving, the kind of act that just pours out of me spontaneously without any forethought.

Talk about two extremes! Yes, I’m pretty much a middle of the road kind of guy temperament-wise. Thus, I am inclined to be quite aware of extremes. When the “who am I?” thought pops up it’s as if I were also saying “where did that come from?”. Deep down I know exactly where each comes from which is the exact reason that my “Who am I?” question comes into play.

You see, I know that when I get revved up and succumb to the need to express myself inappropriately (my old man ugly temper tantrum), it comes because I have yielded to (yep, same as chosen to) allow Satan to guide me in response to a situation that often carries no valid reason for me to get my shorts all twisted up. Often that situation is one in which I carry somewhat, if not all, the burden of being wrong in some manner. Because of the fact that I am sometimes not mature enough to think that I don’t always have to be right, or that I can agree to disagree appropriately, I make the all but instinctive choice to act out, and the tantrum occurs.

On the flip side, I know that my heart has been graciously softened in recent years through the power of the Holy Spirit who is in me since I was saved. Because of that it is not all that uncommon for a completely spontaneous act of kindness or love, whether spoken or through an action, to take place, and I find myself standing outside of myself thinking “wow, is that really me?”, or “where did that come from?”. I find that the choices to act in that way are most often as instinctive as those times that I end up having one of the tantrums.

In the more reflective moments, typically when I am at ground zero and holding space for myself and what is going on inside of my heart and mind, I find myself asking “who am I?”, or “which person am I?”. My answer seldom varies from the simple answer, “both.”.

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