The only reason I describe it as powerful is because all of a sudden, with that single thought, I felt an almost narcotic-like effect on my anxiety. I felt the muscles in my neck loosen, the tightness/nausea in my stomach subside, and the furrow in my brow release. At first, I welcomed the relief, but then I started looking more closely at the thought that brought it. It didn't make any sense really. The thing I was wanting had no correlation with any form of spiritual or even temporal worthiness. It was something I wanted, and somehow, just by telling myself I wasn't worthy of it, I no longer felt the angst of want or desire. It was almost as if I was released from them just by telling myself it was impossible to attain.
Perhaps I'm a bit late in the game, but this was a new discovery for me. I've never been in the habit of telling myself I'm not worth it. Yeah, I've got issues, but feeling unworthy of something was never one of them. Rather, I've always had a pretty solid testimony of divine worth and that my personal worth was infinite simply because I'm a daughter of God - independent of accomplishment, status, or circumstance. I've never really believed anybody who told me otherwise. Thus, the words "I'm not worthy," and it's strangely cathartic effect was new (and surprising).
However, the moment I digested this experience, the Spirit whispered to my heart, "this isn't right, and you know it." Part of me wanted to argue. Yell something to the effect of, "If it's not right, why does it feel better? What's not right about it?" but before I even finished forming the questions, I already had answer. It's not right, because designating yourself hopelessly unworthy of something, of anything, is just another way of isolating yourself from God.
I mean, if you think about it, any sense of hopelessness is really just a way of telling ourselves "I'm not worth God's attention/help," that "God can't help me," or perhaps that "God's not there to help me." All of those are pretty negative statements, and all point pretty clearly to fear and failure. What seems interesting to me, was how cathartic that thought of hopelessness was. Most of us probably peg hopelessness as a negative emotion, something depressing and dark. Well, I would agree, but why is it that so many people are lured into hopelessness? What is the appeal of something negative, depressing and dark?
Part of me wonders if the root of the catharsis lies in the disconnect it creates between who we are and who we really want to be. That by separating yourself from the possibility of God's help, you are relinquished from all of the hassle and hardship required to make your desires a reality. This may be unpopular to actually say, and I don't want to be insensitive to those who struggle with chronic feelings of unworthiness, but that's an awful way to approach...um...anything. That as much as you may want to indulge in the strange sense of safety or release inherent in "I can't," it's counterproductive to any pursuit of happiness.
To find joy, you must have hope, and to actually have/maintain hope in something requires conviction, work, and faith. That requires a huge amount of discipline, dedication, and a degree of optimism that is not particularly fun, easy, or pleasant to exercise. To give up is to become indolent and complacent. After all, you know what to expect when you never aspire, and you'll never be disappointed when you never try. But nobody ever wrote a book about a little engine that couldn't because those who think they can't contribute, don't contribute. They weigh on society like a necrotic limb, just feeding off the energy of others while noxiously spreading their toxic beliefs.