Voices in my head

(Originally I wrote this as an introduction to a book. It may yet get that far, but for now its just a blog.)

It all began with what I came to think of as "the voices". Not the audible voices sometimes heard by those suffering from schizophrenia. I knew that what I was hearing was all in my mind. But nevertheless, "the voices" were distressing, confusing, sometimes even quite disabling.

There were the voices of my parents - decent, loving people who had taught me what was right and wrong and had given me a strong sense that "doing the right thing" went deeper than outward appearances. But some of their advice seemed contradictory - work hard and succeed...don't draw attention to yourself or be a show-off; women can have any career they want..mothers should stay home and look after their children.

There were the voices of various pastors and teachers whose sermons I had heard over the years. They all agreed on the fundamental truths of the Christian gospel, but when it came to carrying it out in practice, they sometimes disagreed. It was not as though I could go to the Bible and look for answers to the question "who is right?" They'd all taught me their own way of reading the Bible.

Then there were the voices of all the authors whose books I had read, searching for some clue as to how I should live. They ranged from pop psychology through to hard-core theology, Tony Campolo to Thomas a Kempis. I'd go to one for comfort, only to remember the words of another deploring such apparent softness and lack of spiritual stamina amongst Christians.

And there were the myriad voices of the world: "to be significant you have to make your mark on the world", "don't make waves", "enjoy the good things of life", "live simply", "stand up for yourself", "nice girls are not aggressive" - on and on they'd go.

I became aware of "the voices" at a time in my life when I was moving from one career to another, still uncertain about what I was going to do with the rest of my life. The career I'd left had provided a busy schedule, a good income and social status. My new role was just the opposite - unstructured, no guaranteed income and with little kudos.

I hadn't particularly enjoyed much of what I had been doing previously. Now I was doing something I loved. At first I felt a delightful sense of freedom in being able to plan my own day. Instead of a rigid routine, each new day held potential surprises. I was discovering new skills, new aspects of my personality that I had once thought were weaknesses but now appeared as potential strengths. Life was an adventure.

After a while, though, the lack of structure began to seem a burden. I tried to plan my days, praying each morning that God would show me what he wanted me to do. But I discovered that God doesn't often drop "to do" lists from heaven on demand. In the end I had to make a decision about what I would do. And there were bigger decisions to make about the future - whether to study, and what, and where, whether to concentrate on one skill or be a jack of all trades.

That was when I became aware of "the voices". They had always been there, of course, but now it seemed as though they all began to talk at once. "You should....", "You ought to....", "How could you...?', "Why don't you...?". If I tried to please one, another would say "But what about...?" No matter what I did, I was always failing to do something else, always failing to please someone, always listening to advice that seemed sound but completely contradicted the advice I was currently acting on. Sometimes I would get real advice and occasionally even real criticism from the real people around me. But most of the advice was coming from "the voices" within me.

I began to feel like screaming "Just be quiet for a while and let me think!" Somewhere in the gabble I knew there must be God's voice and perhaps even a voice of my own. But half a dozen voices were telling me what God wanted. And one or other of them was always quick to point out how I was failing God. To meet all their demands I would have to be a sociable hermit, a well-turned out nun, a meditating politician, a mystic with a social conscience - all at once.

This might sound like nonsense or madness to you. It certainly has all the hallmarks of neurotic anxiety. Many Christians live in the freedom of Christ without question, perhaps without even being aware of it. But if you recognize my dilemma as yours, or if you sometimes feel that being a Christian is more of a burden than a joy (and I've met many Christians like that), I hope that this book will help you to explore what it means to be truly free.