Sleepless Nights

Day 66.


Two days without a post after the explanation of a bad week, I know, I know, it’s not comforting.  There really is a lot going on right now, so much that when I think about it, my frail little mind is boggled.  This may very well have been the most painful and productive week of this whole journey.  (I know what you’re thinking, “More painful than week three?!?!”)  I’ve had to confront some areas of weakness, accept my human-ness, and acknowledge things that are less than palatable to my pride.  Combined with the fact that the problem I thought was the problem that started this problem in a twisted and almost subconscious way really was the problem that initiated the whole problem after all.  I know, I’m rambling for poetic affect to give you a sense of how jumbled I feel; you get the point.  And somehow, I feel less than ever like the person I aspire to be.


Now that I don’t sleep anymore (at least not with any consistency), I use that time to lie awake in my bed and evaluate how normal I feel.  How does my stomach feel?  How does my chest feel?  Am I thinking clearly?  Am I overwhelmed or anxious?  Is God still with me?  Is He angry?  Am I making the right decisions?  Do I have a limited vision of God?  Do I have too high an opinion of myself?  Is there still hope for some of my fondest dreams to be realized, or should I embrace the loss and try and go on with my life?  Is God really big enough?  Does God really have a purpose in all of this?  Or did I bring it all needlessly on myself?


The struggle is real as I fade in and out of sleep, resting for a moment, then back awake to face my inner dialogue.  Somehow, it feels like I’m not in that bed.  That instead, I’m lying on a raft, floating out to sea, surrounded by dark waters and dark skies.  And I’m wavering between two outcomes.  Either I will eventually wash onto the shore, or the waves will roll in on top of me and capsize my little raft.  


Even as I think these things, I am aware that this is not me.  I am a happy person, a bubbly person, someone who loves to laugh and dream and plan.  I’m not easily intimidated, pushed-back, or discouraged.  I delight to be whole-heartedly in love, and give myself entirely to those who love me.  I rarely cry except at a sappy book or movie, or when I find myself in the beautiful, humbling presence of God.  This sickness has made me unrecognizable, and snuffed out my hope, turned me into a stranger in my own mirror.


But it won’t always be this way.  Of this, I am confident. I will rally again, stronger and better for having faced the worst of it.  It may be hard for a while.  It may get harder still.  But it will not swallow me up.  It will not defeat me.  One day, my little raft will dock on the shores of hope.  And God will be with me through it all.


From the book of Isaiah:
  But now thus saith the LORD that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.  When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.  For I am the LORD thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour….  Since thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee….  Fear not: for I am with thee.

Wilt Thou?

Day 63.

Apologies to all for not writing much lately. I admit, these have not been my best days. Maybe it has something to do with this dreary weather. It looks on the outside like I feel on the inside. The sky is gray, the rain is falling, no promise of sunshine in sight. It won’t always be this way…but sometimes I still wonder.

At the end of the day, I have to ask myself, have I done everything I know to do to help myself through this? Did I take the opportunity to go outside and breathe the fresh air? Did I go for a nice long walk and get my heart rate up. Did I eat well? Did I socialize? Did I pray for others? Did I reach out to help someone else who was hurting? Or did I sit around and feel sorry for myself? I’m afraid there are days when “feeling sorry for myself” is the only thing I can check off my list. And I’ll be honest, sometimes I just don’t feel like making the effort to do anything else.

But then I am reminded of the lame man who made his bed at the pool of Bethesda (John 5). He had been sick for 38 years. Thirty-eight years. That’s a long time to be sick. The means to be healed were in front of him, but he was never quite able to be in the right place at the right time. Enter Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus sees him, knows he has been sick for a very long time, and proceeds to ask him a seemingly ridiculous question: Wilt thou be made whole? Really, Jesus? Wilt thou be made whole? Do you really have to ask? Obviously this guy wants to be well again. He’s been lying on a porch in front of a pool waiting for an angel for who knows how long. His whole life has been sickness and waiting. Jesus, don’t you know how badly he wants to be made whole?

Of course Jesus knows. But when Jesus asks the question, the man makes excuses for why he is still sick. Wait a minute. The God of the Universe, the Creator of all things, the Lamb of God, the Great Physician Himself is asking him if he wants to be well and instead of saying, “Yes, Lord!” he tries to explain to Jesus why he’s still sick. As if he's failed somehow by being sick for so long. He's tried to help himself. Obsessed with his illness and the possibility of healing, he's made his home this place where healing is said to occur. Who knows how many bitter tears he cried at night. Who knows how many, many mornings he awoke with new determination. Thirty-eight years of being sick, and he all but apologizes to Jesus because he hasn't found a way to make himself well.

Notice how Jesus does not scold the man for not being able to take care of his own problem. He does not even give a response to the man's desperate explanation of his condition. He just heals him. “Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. “ Jesus isn't out to condemn this man, He just wants to make him whole. Just as he wants each of us to be made whole in Him.

I know God wants me to be well again, and so I must keep at my routine, doing everything I can do to help myself. But I cannot allow myself to feel like I hold the key to my own healing. Only Jesus can truly restore that which is broken. I have to trust in Him and His timing. And through Him, I will be made whole again.

Let My Words Be Few

Day 62.

Today I can't find the words for a blog post. It has been an interesting day, with equal parts good and bad, equal parts progress and regression. I have cried and I have laughed. I have comforted and been comforted. I have made decisions and put off decisions. The book of Proverbs says, “In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin: but he that refraineth his lips is wise.” So, in an effort to be wise this evening, I will refrain my lips (or fingers in this case) and leave you with the words of Paul:

But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith: That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death; If by any means I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead.

Show Me

Day 60.

Lately I feel like I’ve been under a second wave of attack, just as I was starting to really find a place of recovery.  I feel like I’m losing ground.  I can picture myself in a dark cellar, finally finding the steps that lead to the small slither of light way up high.  I see myself climbing up in the darkness, unsure of every step, unsure if the stairs will keep going up, if they will truly lead me in the right direction.  And just as I find myself half-way to the top, something, out of nowhere, pushes me backwards, laughing at me as I tumble all the way back to the bottom, now bruised and bloody from the fall.  And it’s hard to get back up when you’ve been so defeated.

As I continue to read in the book of Matthew, I find even John the Baptist went through a low time and had his doubts once he was in prison.  (It is no coincidence that I happened to read that immediately following my first paragraph.  It’s amazing how God opens His Word to us at the right time.)  John actually sent some of his disciples to ask Jesus if He was the One who should come, “or do we look for another?”  John the Baptist?  Really?  Even John the Baptist second-guessed Jesus?  John had prophesied of Jesus before he started His ministry.  John had told his own disciples, “Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world,” when Jesus was passing by.  John baptized Jesus.  And of Jesus he said, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him.  And I knew him not: but he that sent me to baptize with water, the same said unto me, Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending, and remaining on him, the same is he which baptizeth with the Holy Ghost.  And I saw, and bare record that this is the Son of God.”  Then, when John and Jesus were standing there, “lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him: And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”  It was the audible voice of God!  How much clearer can it be, John?  And yet, here he is, maybe a couple of years later, thrown into prison, discouraged, confused, and questioning everything he knows.  “Art thou he that should come, or do we look for another?”  Oh, how I identify with John in these darkest moments.

So, what does Jesus say?  He could have rebuked John, “Oh ye of little faith.”  After all, John, more than anybody should have known who Jesus was.   Jesus could have given John a simple, “Yes,” and expected John to just take His word for it.  He could have proved Himself by breaking John out of prison.  He was certainly able to do so.  But no, Jesus does none of these things.  Instead, Jesus answers and says, “Go and shew John again those things which ye do hear and see: The blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the gospel preached to them.  And blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me.”  Jesus shows John who He is; He proves Himself by what He’s done.

These are the things that minister to my heart, that give me the strength to get up and start climbing again.  I can recount the amazing things that God has already done in my life, miracle after miracle, blessing after blessing, heaps upon heaps, line upon line, precept upon precept.  Yes, I know who Jesus is.  Just as John knew Him by His works on earth, I know Him by the work He’s done in me.  So, I’m putting one foot in front of the other again, trusting in my Savior and my God.  I cannot allow setbacks to keep me down.  Jesus has proved Himself again and again and I know that He is faithful.  I have tested and tried Him, and I’ve never been disappointed.

Make Me Whole

Day 59.

There are days when I think I’ll never get over this stupid depression.  Seriously, I sometimes hear or read about other people’s experiences and every time they use the word “years” it’s almost enough to set off a panic attack.  Sometimes I just want to pretend like it’s not happening.  Like I’m not feeling what I’m feeling.  Like I’m not experiencing what I’m experiencing.  Like it doesn’t hurt.  I try and force it out of my mind, and go on with my day, doing whatever it is that I would have done on a “normal” day before everything crashed.  I try and force it out of my body, acting as if it never happened, like if I just keep pushing it down, down, down it will all go away.  Sometimes I think, if I could just wake up from this nightmare and start July all over again, I’d do everything differently and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t get sick…so very sick.

Days like today, I live on the prayers of my godly support system.  I know they’re reaching Heaven on my behalf and as the burden begins to ease (ever so slightly) I start to think clearly again.  Even though there’s a piece of me that wishes I could hit the redo button on the last three months, I know that if I didn’t go through the valley, I wouldn’t be able to stand on the mountain with God.  I have to accept that as much as I hate being a victim of circumstances, there are things about the situation I’m in that I cannot change.  Though I can move forward in recovery, I can’t will myself out of clinical depression.  I can’t fix things that are broken, even if I didn’t break them on purpose.  I can’t make sense of senselessness.  I can’t even get out of bed in my own strength.  It is on days like these where I feel the need for Jesus the strongest.

In my mind, I can acknowledge that God is with me.  I know that He is holding me up.  I know that He is drawing me close to Him.  This is where faith goes from handsome theology to haggard practice.  It is no longer folded nicely on the shelf, but crumbled up in my trembling hands, worn and tattered as I rework it over and over, pulling at the seams.  It is tear-stained and dirty from this drag through the mud; still I wrap it around me as a shield against the world.

I know that I am going to get through this.  I know that even though this has dramatically altered my life, not to mention all my future dreams for myself, I will be okay again.  Everything has been filtered through God’s loving hands and He is faithful.  He has bigger plans for me than I could ever have for myself.  So even though I can’t see it, I rely on the evidence.  I rely on the substance of things hoped for.  Yes, even today, I believe my faith will make be whole.

Let's Get Clinical

Day 58.

I’ve kind of been avoiding blogging about the clinical side of this journey because it’s a topic that can make some people uncomfortable.  Somehow, when we bring up “clinical depression,” we move from the realm of what is known and accepted to something less easy to define and not as socially palatable.  And yet, here I am, unable to explain it away, exhibiting the symptoms, and researching the treatments.

Like it or not, the illness is very real and the effects of it are my constant companions these 58 days.  Though it may not be noticeable to the uninformed passer-by, I am currently experiencing moderate to severe depression.  This particular episode was brought on by overwhelming stress.  I’m not certain what the exact straw that broke the camel’s back was, but it was followed by a nervous breakdown and a spiral into major depression that made me feel like I was dying.  Yeah…that was a rough month.

But, by the grace of God, there is hope for recovery (I say recovery instead of cure).  Today I am managing my depression naturally.  This means that it will take longer for my symptoms to dissipate, but as I continue to move forward, a little at a time, allowing for bad days and rejoicing in good days, I will recover and become whole again. 

Today I was reading in Matthew and story after story was about how Jesus healed the sick and then praised their faith.  I feel like the woman with an “issue of blood” who reached out to touch Jesus’ garment as He passed by in the crowd.  She believed He could heal her if she could only touch Him.  I keep believing there is healing for me as I move forward in faith.  Though I’m not sure when, I know I will be made whole once again.  I will recover. 

For more information about clinical depression, the following website is very helpful.  Also, if you google it, you can find a variety of sites that explain the chemical imbalance that causes clinical depression.

http://www.christian-depression.org/cdp/main.php

Follow Thou Me

Day 57.

Sometimes life is just hard. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem fair, and just plain hurts. You can be going along, minding your own business, having a perfectly nice day, when all of the sudden: WHAM! Someone you love betrays you. Tragedy strikes in your household. Sickness consumes you. Dreams fall apart right in front of your eyes. That which was certain dissolves in confusion and pain, crumbling like a poorly laid foundation, and everything you built on it collapses all around you until your life lies in ruins. And we’re tempted to say, “Oh God, couldn’t You have rescued me before I got to this point? Couldn’t You have led me away from that which would hurt me? Why is this happening to me…again?”

I guess I’ve been believing this whole time that when I became well again and after I’d learned everything God wanted me to learn during this season, I would be given back the things that I gave up at the beginning. After all, I’ve read the story of Abraham and Isaac. I would think, "What a beautiful conclusion to all of this hardship--if God gave back what I gave up for Him!'” But I guess that’s not truly giving up anything at all, and it’s really a rather hollow sacrifice.

I am not Abraham. His journey is not my journey. His sacrifice is not my sacrifice. His blessings are not my blessings. But, His God is my God. So, when the hardest days come and I’m so tempted to compare myself to Abraham, or family members, or even people who seem so very undeserving, I am reminded that God is God of all, and He says, “follow thou me.” 

Even still, there are days when my eyes are so blinded by tears I can’t see the path in front of me. Where fountains of hope that seemed to sustain me for a time, turn back to bitter wells of grief that poison my heart. When that which I had been depending on to get me through this desert, vanishes like a mirage in the sun, and I realize that I’ve been pinning all my hopes on something fallible and finite, temporal and fleeting. (Oh, how very fleeting.)

And still, Jesus bids, “follow thou me.” And I am reminded, “He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure, gives unto each day what He deems best, lovingly its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest.” There will be bad days, hard days, near impossible days. There will be pain and toil weaved into the tapestry of our lives. To expect a life without hardship is to expect a spring without rain. Some days must be dark and dreary, but the Psalmist tells us, “The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.” Oh God, draw nigh to this broken heart. Get me through the hard days until I can again see the sun shine.

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Want To

Day 56.

Like a castaway on a deserted island, I continue to count the days until I am fully liberated. I’m coming up very soon on the two-month mark of this journey. Wow. Only two months. It feels like it’s been a lifetime. And in some ways, I guess it has.

The truth is, I’m feeling so much better than I was. Somewhere deep inside of me, things are changing, the weight is lifting, the light is starting to shine. And something very important is happening: I have my “want to” back. 

Today, I want to take a long walk in the late summer breeze, breathing in the cool air that warns of a fast approaching autumn. I want to scoop up my little niece in my arms and blow raspberries on her face and neck and hear her giggle. I want to pick out my clothes for the week, marrying practical and not-so-practical pieces to make cute and functional outfits. I want to go out for Chinese food with my aunt and catch up on each other’s lives, and laugh. I want to dance in my living room when no one’s home but my dog to look at me like I’m ridiculous. I want to sing. Not on a stage or in a studio, but in my car or in my shower. I want to eat festival food, drive around town aimlessly on a Saturday morning with my friend, play Phase 10 with my brothers, pop in at Mom’s just for a chat. I want to wear a flower in my hair, or bounce down the stairs, go for a run, or just curl up on the couch and watch home videos. 

I want to help people. All kinds of people. I want to help teenagers who are fighting a culture war completely unprepared. I want to help other women to find God’s gender-specific purpose for their life. I want to help children who are wards of the state, faceless numbers in the foster-care system. I want to help others who suffer from clinical depression. I want them to know there’s hope, there’s healing, and that Jesus loves them. I want to help my friends and family in any way they need me, through their hardest days and longest nights.

I want to worship God with complete abandon. I want to shout, cry, and sing praises to Him without being self-conscious or disingenuous. I want to follow Him to the ends of the earth and not second-guess, hesitate, or regret one moment of the journey. I want to understand the deep, deep love of Jesus. To know Him in the beauty of His holiness. I want to pray with earnest. I want to trust without wavering. I want to be always ready to give an answer to everyone that asks me the reason of the hope that is in me, with meekness and fear.

Ah, the healing season. I hope it takes every bit as long as it needs to and not one second longer. Because even though I want to be through this difficult valley in my life, more than anything, I want to never forget where I’ve been and where God’s brought me from. Only then, can I truly appreciate all those “want to” ‘s as the beautiful gifts from God that they are.

Yes or No

Okay, write a blog on patience and guess what happens the next day…inner turmoil. That’s kind of exciting because it means I must be doing something right. Someone out there in the vast cyber-world must be getting something out of this blog, even if it’s just me. So even though I don’t enjoy the inner turmoil, I “glory in tribulations also.”

Today I am musing on the clarity of God’s will, and I am struck with a question, “Can God make a ‘Yes’ as clear as He can make a ‘No’?” Maybe it’s just my personality, but it seems to me that I can more readily accept a “No” from God, but find myself constantly second-guessing a “Yes.” For instance, I have been trying to find a doctor for about a month now. I don’t want just any doctor, so I’ve been seeking recommendations from trusted friends and family. With each suggestion, I have been praying for God’s will and asking that God would open doors wide or slam doors shut. Three slammed doors later, and I’m starting to get the message. That’s what a “No” looks like in my life. So you’d think, that if I can identify the “No”, I should just as easily be able to identify the “Yes,” right? After all, if the door’s wide open, I should just walk through it. But fear will keep me in the doorway, leaning back and forth, straining to hear that “No,” so I can step back into the safety of the hallway. What’s up with that?

I think I’m afraid of the desires of my heart. I think I’m afraid that if I want something, really want something, it must not be a good thing. I could get very very specific about what I want right now, what my heart longs for, what can bring me to tears (even just writing this much about it), but I’ll spare you the details. The point is, even if God did tell me “Yes” on those things I want so badly, would I have the courage to move forward in faith? Or would I constantly be second-guessing myself? 

Psalm 37 says, “Trust in the LORD, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.” I believe that’s a promise from God, but I want to tread carefully here. The qualifiers in this passage, in order to receive the “desires of thine heart” are to: Delight in the Lord, Commit thy way unto the Lord, and Trust in Him. Am I doing all of those things? Am I truly delighting in Him? Am I really committed? Do I really trust Him? And when I examine myself, I begin to realize that those are truly the desires of my heart: to delight in Him, to commit my way to Him, to trust Him. So even though there are earthly things my heart desires, my greatest desire is to be in the will of God.

So, back to this “Yes” or “No” question. I think I have to really commit my way to Him, whatever that might look like, and then trust Him to bring it to pass in His timing. More of that patience stuff we talked about yesterday. More relying fully on God to reveal His perfect will step by step. And maybe that means having those things I want so desperately, but maybe it means waiting for something better (I can’t imagine) to come along. Regardless, I am delighting in the Lord today, even as I battle the inner turmoil; I am standing on the promises of God.

Have Patience

Allow me to ease any concerns, my faithful followers, I did not post yesterday due to technical difficulties. My computer froze up and try as I might, using all the tricks I knew to use, I could not make it work. Finally I shut it down manually and went to bed. My patience for the day had been tapped. Ah, patience.

Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to celebrate two major events in the lives of two of my closest friends (and Bible study gals). One friend (my cousin) had her very first baby. Up at the hospital on Friday night, I cradled the child in my arms, declared him to be beautiful (which he most certainly is), and shared in the joy of such a wonderful occasion. She told the story of the labor and delivery as we agonized with her and felt the appropriate concern, knowing that she survived the worst of it to become our candid narrator. What a blessing to share her joy.

The other friend allowed me to tag along as she went to buy a wedding dress. (She has less than five weeks before the big day.) We went to a small variety of stores, passing over dresses that cost thousands, embracing (literally) dresses on the sale rack, and finally finding “the one” among the hundreds of others that seemed so very lovely, but just not quite right. As she gazed at herself in the mirror, she knew no other dress would do for that very important day. More blessings. More joy. And more reminders that God is urging me, compelling me, even begging me to be patient.

The psalmist says, “Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him.” Paul tells us in Romans that, “tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope.” And, “if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.” He says in Colossians, we are “Strengthened with all might, according to his glorious power, unto all patience and longsuffering with joyfulness; Giving thanks unto the Father.” And I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea. The Bible has a lot to say about patience.

As I flesh out this idea of what it means to be a patient person, I begin to wonder exactly what patience looks like. I've heard people say, “Don't pray for patience, that will only bring about trouble.” So instead of patience, we pray for blessings and then get frustrated when we have to wait for them. I can't imagine that's what God has in mind for His people, especially in a culture that caters to the demand for instant gratification. God's people should look, act and believe differently. We're so afraid of “patience” that though we tell our children there is value in waiting, and that tantrums are not acceptable when we don't get what we want when we want it, we often, among other believers, say, “God is teaching me patience” in a way that might as well be “God is teaching my Calculus.” (For those of us who aren't so mathematically inclined.) We'd rather flunk the class and make up those credits in Art or Choir.

I think our real issue is this: We think patience is a feeling that we can't quite accomplish inside ourselves, when in reality, it's an action that forces us to rely completely on God. Patience is something we do. And it's not because it feels so good at the time. It's an act of putting those things we're anxious about purposefully into the hands of God. There are certain things I put into the hands of God about 35,000 times a day. Do I feel patient? No. But when I surrender things to God and take my hands completely off of them, I am allowing for my tribulation to work patience in me, knowing that will work experience, and that experience will work hope. I am being patient without feeling patient. When we say we don't want to pray for patience, it's like saying we don't want to rely completely on God. Ouch. And being impatient is just another way of assuming we don't need God. It's not just a personality flaw, it's a failure to allow God to work His will in our lives. (And now I've gone from blogging to meddling.)

So as I am waiting for those special and particular events to come about in my own life, God is using this time to mold me and make me. He is teaching me to rely fully on Him and to trust Him completely. I'll admit, it's a little scary at times because I'm not really sure what it is I'm waiting for and I'm constantly fighting the urge to want to “help” God. But this is where I place my trust in the divine and sovereign Creator of the universe. Even if it's something as simple as my computer freezing up, I know that God is intimately involved in my life. He is teaching me to be patient, and reminding me of His unfailing patience toward me. What a humbling thought.

Loose

Then Nebuchadnezzar the king was astonished, and rose up in haste, and spake, and said unto his counsellors, “Did not we cast three men bound into the midst of the fire?”

They answered and said unto the king, “True, O king.”

He answered and said, “Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt; and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God.”

Okay, who can guess what Bible story this is? (You Bible College buffs don’t count.) It’s a very well-known story that you may have seen depicted on a flannel graph board when you were in VBS as a child. You guessed it! The Hebrew captives, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. They refused to bow to the king’s idols and were cast into the fiery furnace because of it. I was listening to a sermon on cd and the preacher brought out this idea that they had been cast into the fire bound (all tied up) but they were visible within the fire loose (free from their shackles). And I thought, oh yeah, that’s me!

When I started on this journey to holiness, I was certain that the entirety of my anguish was condemnation from God. I thought I was being punished for something I couldn’t see or understand. I couldn’t feel the peace of God and I couldn’t comprehend why everything was so dark and awful. I was a complete mess emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and even physically. I had set myself up for a major crash without realizing it, and the crash felt like I’d been completely blindsided…by God. But the further I get away from it, the more clearly I can see it.

God has amazing ways of doing things. He sees us for who we are. He knows where we’re at. He appreciates the big picture. I still can’t say that I understand everything that happened last July or in the following painful weeks and months, to make such a claim would be to put myself on level with God. But I can say that God allowed it for my good, and that’s good enough for me. He lovingly crafted my furnace of affliction and has led me so gently through it. What a wonderful Savior! Like the Hebrew captives, He is in the fire with me. And like the Hebrew captives, I am no longer bound!

Here’s the exciting conclusion- Though the Hebrew children were still in the fiery furnace, they were there with Jesus and they were loose. They were free in the furnace to walk with God Himself, even though the fire was burning as hot as ever. Isn’t that exciting?! Even when we can’t feel God, even when He seems a million miles away, He’s right there in the fire and He can set us loose so we can walk with Him. It doesn’t really matter what your furnace looks like. It could be clinical depression. It could be grief over a loss in your life. It could be loneliness, illness, rejection, stagnation. Everyone’s journey is different, but God is ever the same, and He is always with us. He wants us to walk with Him even in the hard times. And by His grace, we no longer have to be bound by sin, by fear, by confusion. We can be made free in the fire. Praise God, I’ve been cut loose!

Who Am I?

Nancy Leigh DeMoss says, “Circumstances do not determine who we are; circumstances reveal who we are.” I’ve always found that statement particularly convicting. Under certain circumstances, I’ll admit it, I just don’t shine. As I reflect over some of my reactions to these current circumstances, over particular behaviors, thoughts, outbursts, and frustrations, I begin to see myself for who I really am. And if I set the reel of my memory just a little bit farther back, I begin to see myself for who I really was.

I think that in general, in life, I have been a “Martha.” For those of you who are unfamiliar with the story found in Luke 10, it’s rather short, so I’ll just go ahead and post it here:

Now it came to pass, as they went, that he (Jesus) entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.

“Martha, Martha…,” says Jesus with the utmost patience. (I just imagine the Lord saying in the same tone, “Ashley, Ashley….”) This is where I identify with Martha: She’s not a careless woman, far from it! She wanted Jesus to come to her house; she was pleased to have Him there. She wanted to serve Him. That doesn’t seem so bad, does it? It’s good to want to serve Jesus, right? And of course, we’re talkin’ about Jesus here, so just any ho-hum servitude won’t do. We want to present Him with the best, the most, the greatest! And in doing so, Martha gets “cumbered.” Definition: to hinder; hamper, to overload; burden, to inconvenience; trouble. Martha, Martha…. She got so caught up in serving Jesus, she became overloaded by it all. (This barely sounds exactly like me.)

And then, (and I love this part because it’s so me) Martha starts looking around for someone to help her bare this load she’s taken on (voluntarily) and is struggling with. And there’s Mary, just sitting around, and letting Martha do it all by herself. Can we see why Martha was so frustrated? Here she is, wearing herself out to serve the Lord, and there’s her sister, just hangin’ out with Jesus. I wonder how many times she paced across that kitchen before she finally made up her mind to say something. I wonder how many dirty looks she shot Mary across the room as she was coming and going, all the while missing all the best time with Jesus because someone had to put dinner on the table. After all, how many times have I thought or said, “well, someone has to do it!” And then was all stirred up, and angry with everyone else who didn’t feel responsible. Ashley, Ashley….

So when she finally expresses her frustration to Jesus, and this is the part that always gets me, Jesus scolds her and says Martha’s the one who is wrong, not Mary. What? How is that possible? Couldn’t Jesus have just told Mary to go help her sister who was having a rough time? Didn’t He see all the effort Martha was putting in? Didn’t He know that her intentions were to please Him? Yes, this is where my cousin (who reminded me of this story) and I cry foul. 

Reading Martha’s story is like staring into a mirror. And honestly, I don’t like what’s looking back at me. Martha knows she’s got a problem, but instead of asking Jesus what she should do, she tells Jesus how He should fix it. Been there; done that. As if He doesn’t see our need. As if He couldn’t intervene at any time. We insist on having it our way, and then expect Jesus to make it so.

But Jesus knows Martha’s heart. He knows who she is. “Thou art careful and troubled about many things.” Oh Jesus, how clearly You see us. Martha was wearing herself out trying to serve Jesus, until she got frustrated with others and even frustrated with Jesus Himself. She didn’t take any time out to sit with Jesus and hear Him speak. She was too busy trying to serve Him. And I wonder if at that moment, when Jesus so highly praised Mary for doing what Martha found so very irritating, if Martha stopped what she was doing and sat down beside her sister, or if she turned around and stormed back into the kitchen, humiliated, wounded, and determined to be right. And I guess that scares me. How many times did Jesus bid me come, and I stormed back into the kitchen, more frustrated than ever? How many times did I go back to setting the table, cloaked in my self-pity and self-righteousness when He was asking me to be still? How many times have I thrown a temper tantrum when I didn’t get my way?

So the question is, who am I? Clearly the circumstances have changed, but the question remains. What are these circumstances revealing me to be? Can a “Martha” ever become a “Mary “? Can changed circumstances permanently change who I really am? I think this is where the journey gets interesting.

Out of the Pit

I feel like I can say with a significant measure of confidence that I am on the healing side of this journey. That even though outside my window the sky is overcast and gray, I can feel a shimmer of hope illuminating the interior of my heart, bringing a sense of peace that will pave the way for joy. I have never felt the ground beneath me so solid, never before known the true security of the solid Rock upon which I stand. I have never embraced such full surrender of my soul, my body, my very life. 

I am still experiencing the physical aspects of clinical depression- anxiety, indecisiveness, nervousness, and the tenseness in my chest and stomach. But I’m determined not to let them overpower my good sense and sound reason. God has so blessed me to be able to distinguish what is reality and what is misconception. For those of you who don’t understand what clinical depression feels like, the best way for me to describe it is that my “fight or flight” reflex kicked in about two months ago and the intensity of those feelings has stayed with me day and night over the last 50 days. Those chemicals keep rushing through my bloodstream. The indecisiveness comes from my “gut” telling me that all options are bad. Everything must either be fought or ran from. (This brings some clarity to the drastic decisions I was making at the beginning of all of this-but all that’s in God’s loving hands.) So when your gut tells you everything is bad, it’s hard not to confuse it with your conscience, or the Holy Spirit, or your emotions, or even satan (who capitalizes on it immensely, to be sure). Logic tends to go right out the window because the feelings inside are so demanding. It’s a very real and very scary place. King David described it as a horrible pit and it seems impossible to hear the voice of God when you’re at the bottom.

But remember Psalm 40 from yesterday? King David said, “He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.” What a beautiful thought! God will reach down into the pit where I am crushed and broken and bring me out and then tell me what to do next. I think that’s my favorite part. I have been such in the habit of establishing my own goings, it will be a wonderful relief to finally allow God to establish my goings. Especially with all the indecisiveness I’ve been facing lately. Then again, the truth is, He’s already establishing my goings. I’m living a surrendered life. A purposeful life. A blessed life. He is leading me on to green pastures and beside still waters, but I must first pass through the valley of the shadow of death.

So today I say, I am on my way up out of here. I’m not going to live down at the bottom of the pit when Christ has already made a way for me to be rescued. I'm going to keep moving up into the new level that God is calling me to. I am totally surrendered to God's will for my life. So I can say as Paul did, “we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.” Ah yes, that shimmering hope. That's what makes the journey worth it.

Rejoice in the Lord

Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice. –Philippians 4:4

Notice what this passage of scripture does not say. It does not say “Rejoice in the Lord sometimes.” It does not say, “Rejoice in the Lord when everything is going your way.” It does not say, “Rejoice in the Lord when you feel like it.” It says, “Rejoice in the Lord always.” And this is not just a suggestion. This is a commandment from the word of God.

Today, I am rejoicing in the Lord. I am rejoicing in who He is. In what He’s done. And in what He’s going to do. I’m not rejoicing because my life is perfect. I’m not rejoicing because I have all the answers, or because I feel like I’m back to normal, or because I know what the future holds. I am rejoicing because the Word tells me to rejoice. And the amazing thing is, that when I purpose to rejoice, I start to feel like rejoicing. I start to feel the presence of God on my life. I start to think of how much He’s done for me, the unrestrained blessings that have been poured out on me again and again, heaps upon heaps. I start to lay hold on His promises and claim them.

Today I was reading in Psalm 40 and I was so blessed by it, I am just going to post the whole thing and let it suffice for today. This is truly worth rejoicing over.

I waited patiently for the LORD; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the LORD. Blessed is that man that maketh the LORD his trust, and respecteth not the proud, nor such as turn aside to lies. Many, O LORD my God, are thy wonderful works which thou hast done, and thy thoughts which are to us-ward: they cannot be reckoned up in order unto thee: if I would declare and speak of them, they are more than can be numbered. Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire; mine ears hast thou opened: burnt offering and sin offering hast thou not required. Then said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, O my God: yea, thy law is within my heart. I have preached righteousness in the great congregation: lo, I have not refrained my lips, O LORD, thou knowest. I have not hid thy righteousness within my heart; I have declared thy faithfulness and thy salvation: I have not concealed thy lovingkindness and thy truth from the great congregation. Withhold not thou thy tender mercies from me, O LORD: let thy lovingkindness and thy truth continually preserve me. For innumerable evils have compassed me about: mine iniquities have taken hold upon me, so that I am not able to look up; they are more than the hairs of mine head: therefore my heart faileth me. Be pleased, O LORD, to deliver me: O LORD, make haste to help me. Let them be ashamed and confounded together that seek after my soul to destroy it; let them be driven backward and put to shame that wish me evil. Let them be desolate for a reward of their shame that say unto me, Aha, aha. Let all those that seek thee rejoice and be glad in thee: let such as love thy salvation say continually, The LORD be magnified. But I am poor and needy; yet the Lord thinketh upon me: thou art my help and my deliverer; make no tarrying, O my God.

Trusting in the Lord

The devil is a sly old fox. I’d like to catch him, and put him in a box. Lock the lid and throw away the key, for all those tricks he’s played on me. I’m glad I got salvation. I’m glad I got salvation. I’m glad I got salvation. I’m trusting in the Lord.

Now theologically, I’m not sure how that little children’s song holds up against the great hymns of Charles Wesley or Fanny Crosby, but it does start with the premise of acknowledging our enemy and concludes with a declaration of trust in our Lord. And that’s good enough for me.

I feel like there have been times during this journey that the devil himself was sitting on my shoulder whispering the most palatable and plausible lies ever told. Here I was, trying desperately to hear the voice of God (a still, small voice) and all the while being romanced by a master deceiver. He made everything so believable, so easy to accept as truth. It’s not as if I liked what he was saying. He was not telling me things that would make me feel better or good about myself. No, just the opposite. He was telling me things that were easy for someone with shattered self-esteem to latch onto as truth. Mean, vicious things that felt so very true, I assumed they proceeded out of the lips of logic. Hateful things. Spiteful things. They wormed inside my head and heart, cycling round and round, gnawing at my conscience, clawing at my sanity, dizzying me with their perceived consequences, nauseating me with the weight of their potential reality. His favorite lie to tell, and my favorite one to believe: You’ve messed things up so bad, not even God could fix it now. Over and over he spoke it to me. Over and over I endured it. I tried to deny it, but over and over it came into every thought. Over and over it clung to every bit of rational I could muster. Over and over I was flooded with examples of people who had made irreparable choices, even Biblical examples. I fought it. I denied it. I grieved over it. But over and over it came, wave upon wave until I nearly drowned in it.

1Peter gives us the following warning: “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.” Devour is a serious word. He doesn’t just want to pacify you, subdue you, maim you, or bench you. He wants to devour you, to destroy you. He wants to eat you alive. 

So how do you battle a lie? You confront it with the truth. Jesus said, “ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” Free from the shackles of the enemy’s lies. Free from the bondage of the enemy’s deceptions. Glorious, wonderful freedom! The truth is, God has the strength and the power to make something beautiful out of my life. I can never mess up so bad that God can’t redeem me. God is bigger than any mistake. He is bigger than any bad choice. He is big enough to form the universe, and big enough to run my life…if I let Him. So here’s another truth that I’m finding particularly helpful: Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. That’s a promise from God. He has to flee when we resist him. Not if he wants to. Not if he feels like it. Not if it’s convenient and he’s tired of tormenting us. No. It’s a promise from God. He HAS to flee when we resist him. Praise the Lord! He HAS to flee. In the name of Jesus Christ, I have been set free. I don’t have to believe the lies of the enemy any more. According to God’s promises, I can send the devil on the run. Because I’ve got salvation. And I’m trusting in the Lord.

Promise Keeper

“I will sing of the mercies of the LORD for ever: with my mouth will I make known thy faithfulness to all generations.” -Psalm 89:1

There's a little song that has this verse in it, and it is playing in my head as I write this evening. I think it's because I am finally getting to a place in this walk where I can acknowledge the mercy of my God, where I can acknowledge His unfailing faithfulness. I feel so blessed this evening; more blessed than I've felt in 47 days.

Proverbs 25:11 says, “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.” I didn't really expect for anyone to be able to say anything to me at this point in my journey that would be so powerful and bring such clarity. I had sought answers so tenaciously, asking anyone who would listen to me. I had sought answers on my knees, on my face, with tears streaming down my cheeks. I had sought answers among faithful friends, knowledgeable counselors, and loving family. “Can someone please tell me what's wrong with me?” I had chased every rabbit trail, followed less palatable pieces of advice, agonized on my bed, wracked my brain, searched the scripture, and came up dry again and again. And then on Saturday, the answer came, in a not-so-earth-shattering way. I was sitting on the porch with the family member of a friend who began to speak of her own experience during a difficult season in her life. She began to recount a specific thought in a specific scenario, and as she described it, it was like she was looking into my heart and telling my own thoughts back to me. But she couldn't see into my heart. No, it was God seeing into my heart, allowing her to be transparent, and the words that came out of her mouth felt like balm on my desperate spirit.

Though I have struggled with knowing God's presence in my life during these difficult times, I am happy to report that God has never left me. Not in the darkest, scariest, lowest moments. Not once. Not ever. My inability to perceive God is not a commentary on God's inability to be present. No such inability exists. He is ever present (or omnipresent for you Bible College buffs) and ever the same. He is a God who makes promises, and (Hallelujah!) He's a God who keeps His promises. When those words fitly spoken began to resonate in my heart, I knew it was God's faithfulness and mercy being applied to my life. It was such a gentle blessing, and so very God of Him.

That evening, while the sun was still out, we glanced out the window and across the sky was painted the most beautiful rainbow, brilliant and breathtaking. We dashed outside into the sprinkling rain and stood there, gazing up into the sky. One of us mentioned the promise of the rainbow, how God will never again flood the earth. God made that covenant with Noah thousands of years ago, and the sign of that covenant was as real across that sky as the rain that was gently falling on our faces. God keeps His promises. Just like that rainbow was a sign to Noah (and a sign to us) so is every jot and tittle in His Holy Word. That's over 3,500 promises for us to take hold of and claim! So tonight, I am claiming the promise found in Romans 15:13, "Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.” Joy, peace, and hope. I am looking forward to these beautiful gifts in my future and claiming them for myself even in this season, knowing that my faithful and merciful God will bring me through to victory on the other side.

Minor Setbacks. Major Victories.

Three days without a blog. “That must be some setback you’re having.” Indeed.

There are two errors I would like to address concerning my choice to not post over the last three days.

Error One: I forgot why I was posting.

I forgot that I was not just posting to supply reading material to my faithful followers. (Surely, you all could find something better to read in the evening than my ramblings.) Even though I am recounting these things that you may better understand my despondency, it’s not the sole reason for continuing this discipline of blogging. Rather, I am blogging in order that I might better understand my despondency. That I might reach some conclusion in the whole matter. That I might find a place of healing, peace, and joy again. It forces me to take my day, look at it objectively (as if from the outside), and extract some kind of point to the ebb and flow of the whole thing.

Error Two: I didn’t feel like posting.

I really just didn’t feel like staring at the blank screen and trying to come up with something encouraging when I was so very discouraged. I didn’t feel like putting words together in comprehensive thoughts. (After all, they weren’t arranging themselves in my head that way.) I didn’t feel like chasing ideas and concepts through my mind, trying to lay hold on one complete sequence of logic or lucidity. The valley was so dark; I didn’t have any light to share. But I have to remember that I need to post that too. If I don’t post the darkest days, then I’m not giving a complete picture of what this whole season of my life looks like. I am only sharing the highs, when it’s the lows that are truly refining me. Now it’s not that I feel like I’m being refined or feel like I’m having any spiritual victories when I’m lying on my couch with my face in a pillow, trying desperately to get my head to stop spinning. Quite the contrary, if I’m being honest. But this is where trust and obedience come in. This is when I have to trust that God is making me a minister, according to the gift of the grace of God given unto me by the effectual working of his power. I am thankful for His leading, though I must admit, I don’t like being led through the valley.

I don’t ever want to forget this season, this journey. I don’t ever want to forget this feeling inside. I don’t ever want to forget those dark, dark days. Because when I get through this, I want to always, always, always remember what God has brought me out of. I want to be able to put my finger on it and say, “I once was…but by the grace of God, I am….” And by the grace of God, I will be. I will be what He is calling me to be. I will be a vessel of hope, an instrument of peace, a life of joy and satisfaction in His perfect will. There is light at the end of this, even if I can’t see it from where I’m struggling. I can say, as Job did, I know that my redeemer liveth! That is my consolation, my hope, and my strength. This is my major victory.

My Way

I hate being a MeMonster. I didn’t realize how much of a MeMonster I was until all of this happened. But I’m pretty self-focused, and have been for a while. Even before I had my breakdown, I was unable to remember anything going on in anyone else's life because, quite frankly, I didn’t care. People would always ask me to pray for them or for something going on in their lives. “Of course I will.” But I wouldn’t remember to. It wasn’t that I was trying to deceive people, or that I didn’t want to remember their prayer requests, it was just too much for me to think about--other people’s problems and all that. I had too much on my own plate to take on anyone else’s issues. Just thinking about taking the time to pray for other people made me feel exhausted, knowing I couldn’t squeeze it in to my already too-full schedule. It kept me from asking others to pray for me too, because I knew what a burden it was to be asked. (Wow. That looks worse on paper than it sounded in my head, but it’s the truth and you all might as well know it.) I would pretend that it was something I delighted to do. I would try and convince myself that prayer was a priority in my life. I preached it to my youth group, I insisted it was key to a Christian’s daily walk, and when pressed, I could pray as eloquently as anyone out loud. I put on such a good front, I even had myself fooled. But God wasn’t fooled. He knew I wasn’t spending any time talking to Him, seeking His face, discerning His will. I have never been a great prayer. I’ve always wanted to be, but not bad enough. Not bad enough to block out the time necessary to learn to pray, to really touch God. So, my prayer-life became nearly non-existent as I filled that time with my works-based religion. After all, I couldn’t have anything but a works-based religion under the circumstances. And, if Christianity is not a religion, but instead a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, then my relationship was completely unhealthy and on the verge of a break-up or an overhaul. (Praise God I’m in the midst of the overhaul instead of the break-up!) 

Let’s pretend Jesus and I went to a counselor to talk about how things were going (pre-breakdown) in our relationship. I imagine it would look something like this:

Me: Our relationship is great. I keep doing all this stuff for Him and He keeps doing all this stuff for me. That’s how I show my love. Doing stuff.

Jesus: We never spend any time together. She never talks to Me. She’s too busy to sit down and spend time getting to know Me.

Me: But look at all the stuff I’m doing.

Jesus: I don’t want your stuff. I just want to spend time with you.

Me: Trust me, I know what’s best for this relationship. We’ll do it my way.

Now, if I allowed any of my other relationships to look like this, I wouldn’t be in a relationship very long. People like it when you do stuff for them, but if it’s not stuff they want you to do, it’s irritating at best, and completely destructive at worst. And if you never spent time talking to that person or listening to that person, you really couldn’t call yourselves friends. A friendship that turns into an obligation is not much of a friendship at all. As it was, I felt obligated to do stuff for God because He had done so much for me, which only created a sense of resentment inside of me because I had to do so much because He had done so much. But that’s works-based salvation. And crazy-arrogant. So this arrogant MeMonster plotted her salvation down a course of destruction that led to a foreseeable end. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians says, “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.” I was trying so hard to pay God back for a gift that I could never ever (ever, ever, ever, ever, etc.) do anything to equal. And I admit, there was some boasting on my part. Oh, ouch, it’s like watching a train-wreck from this end. Or watching a really awkward embarrassing moment when you want so badly to stop, but can’t. Sigh. Have I been transparent enough?

So, my top priority this week is prayer. I have been trying to maintain a constant dialogue with God throughout my day and very much as I’m falling asleep at night. I don’t want to forget how close God really is at all times, and I want to be in the habit of praying without ceasing. It’s the most important relationship in my life, and if I am careless and neglect it, I’m the one that’s missing out.

Crazy Like Me

Day 41.

Well, I was right. I didn't burst out of bed and skip around my apartment today. I didn't join the birds on my windowsill in a song as I threw open the curtains to let the sun shine in on my perfect morning. Hardly. Actually, I had a hard time getting out of bed today. I was really tired from being sick all weekend, and I think I may have had a NyQuil hangover of sorts. I kept telling myself I needed to get up and start my day, but because it was a holiday and I didn't have plans until later, I lingered. Even after I took the dog out around 9 o'clock, I went back to my bed and enjoyed a few more moments of much needed sleep. It's exhausting to be this emotional all the time. Constantly checking my anxiety level, constantly chasing away stray thoughts, constantly aware that things aren't quite how they should be. It wears on me.

Even though I didn't have some super fantastic revelation of joy, I did have a good day. Understand that “good” is a relative term. I would not call it my best day ever, but not a bad day at all. I got to spend time with my family, had fun in the corn toss tournament, and enjoyed a casual dinner at my brother and sister-in-law's house. I did shed a few tears when I was telling my aunt how much better I was doing (even though there was definitely some heartache that I couldn't ignore). She encouraged me in my journey and told me that my testimony in church was “spot-on.” I was comforted by that.

I like to use the word “crazy” to describe where I went in those first two weeks after my breakdown. There are those in my inner circle who don't approve, but it amuses me on some level, I suppose. As I was hugging some of my cousins and crying, I explained to them that I was crazy now and they should just accept the new me. They laughed...cautiously. But I'm not who I was. And I don't want to be. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be “crazy” or to be known as “crazy.” But I don't want to walk through the fire and come out the same on the other side, either. I want to be noticeably different. I don't want to encounter God this closely and bypass Him down the road. I don't want to turn a deaf ear to His voice when He calls my name or urges me in prayer. I don't want to go back to where I was. I want to move forward. As Paul said in his letter to the Philippians, “Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” I press on. I press on. Not because every day is full of sunshine and green pastures. Not because the journey isn't long, hard, and tiring. Not because I'm ever going to have some super fantastic revelation of joy. And certainly not because it's easy. I press on because it's worth it. Every day, every hardship, every sacrifice, every struggle. It is worth it that I might, like Paul, obtain the prize of the high calling in Christ. Nothing on this earth compares. And maybe that does sound a little crazy, but maybe I'm a little crazy after all.

Fear Not

Day 40.

Well, here we are. It's day 40. In a perfect scenario, I would wake up tomorrow feeling completely liberated in my soul. But I don't anticipate it. Though I am experiencing a form of revival, a purposeful renewal of my heart, mind, body, and soul, I am not on a mountain just yet.

Today in church, I stood up and gave my testimony. I cried through most of it, but I gave it just the same. My aunt often reminds us of the scripture found in Revelation 12:11- “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony.” So I stood up with my Bible and shared some of the verses that I've been holding on to through this season. (2 Corinthians 4:17, and 2 Corinthians 12:9-10) And my aunt assured me that I would be an overcomer this week. I hope she's a prophet. I want to overcome. I know that I am definitely moving in the right direction, even if it is very slowly.

One of the things I identified at the beginning of this was an overwhelming sense of fear. I didn't recognize what a fearful person I was until I met someone who was constantly challening my ideas of safety versus adventure. It was then I realized that “safe” is my favorite word. I love living in a safe neighborhood close to my family. I like the safety of financial security and a good job. I drive a safe vehicle. I make decisions based on what I see as a safe outcome. I am not a thrill seeker, or world traveler, or chance taker. I feel like I am always battling fear on some level. So even as I struggle with new fears today, fears about the future or even fears about the past, I recognize them for what they are. They are arrows from the quiver of the deceiver. They shoot true and sure and all day long, they've hit their mark.

James 4:7-10 gives us instructions on how to rebuke fear in our lives: Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded. Be afflicted, and mourn, and weep: let your laughter be turned to mourning, and your joy to heaviness. Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up. Today, I am choosing to live these words. This is my testimony, that on Day 41, I choose to submit myself to God, to resist the devil, to draw nigh to God, to cleanse my hands and purify my heart, and to humble myself in the sight of the Lord. Then, and only then, will I experience that true liberation my soul so longs for. I shall overcome.

Slow and Steady

Day 39

I'm not sure at what point it happened today. No beam of light shot down from Heaven. No white-garbed messenger met me at my door. It wasn't during my quiet moments of prayer or while I was reading in John about the resurrection of Lazarus. But somewhere in the course of the morning, a still small voice revealed to me what I've been seeking for 39 days. And just like that, it became as clear as the September sky. On Wednesday, July 27^th, I had what could be clinically described as a nervous breakdown. Now, I don't know exactly what that would look like in anyone else's life. I didn't read on the internet the symptoms or aftermath; I didn't go about seeking other people's opinions. I don't have to. I'm confident in the diagnosis.

I liked having a busy life. I prided myself in it. I found my value and worth in my busy schedule. I would say, “If I'm not busy, I'm crazy.” (That was my motto.) I loved the way people reacted when I rattled off my typical routine; it made me feel like I was really accomplishing something with my life. And it made me better than everyone else. But I didn't tell people I was having panic attacks at the end of a busy shift on a Friday night at Cracker Barrel. I didn't tell people how unbelievably tired I was all the time. I was irritable, antsy, and couldn't handle any form of down time. My priorities were completely mixed up which only added to my frustration. I kept pretending that I had a perfect life, but instead, everything was working together for a perfect storm. I couldn't eat. I didn't sleep. And I refused to heed any warning from any source. Professing myself to be wise, I became a fool. I thought I had it all together, and all around me, everything was falling apart. The Bible tells us in 1Corinthians: Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. And I fell hard. From the pedestal I had set myself on, it was a long way to the ground.

So now I'm in the rebuilding process. I don't anticipate an overnight fix. God has a lot of work to do. I'm in a fragile place and my nerves need plenty of down time. But I do believe there is a place of healing, and a time of healing on the horizon. Every day I make a little progress. Slow and steady. And I find encouragement in Paul's words to the Hebrews, “let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.” Sounds good to me.

Sick Day

Day 38

Today I woke up with a sore throat and a general, overall icky feeling. Knowing that a nasty cold/ upper respiratory infection seems to be going around, I opted to call off work. This put me in a unique position, I had to be home alone. Unlike a similarly situated Macaulay Culkin, I did not place my hands on either side of my face and scream, although I did experience some trembling anxiety as my roommate was walking out the door to leave for work. I know that's silly; I'm nearly 28-years-old. And at any other time in my life, a little alone time would have been a rare treat. But today, it was a rather terrifying prospect. So, within minutes of her leaving, I had taken a couple NyQuil, and headed over to mom's to wait for the medicine to kick in. I know, I'm a chicken.

I have spent most of the day in bed (like a good patient) trying to sleep and not think too much. The broken heart side of this thing seems to get to me the worst. Thoughts that were once happy and exciting are now forced out of my mind like money-changers in the temple, and if I go down the mysterious road of “Why,” I am only confronted with more pain and confusion. So instead, I sing a song inside my head and try to turn my thoughts to something less dangerous. But even then, I feel I am only grasping desperately at my sanity, and all too often falling just short. To quote retired NASA senior scientist Donald Kessler, "We've lost control of the environment.” As if we ever had it, Donald.

Despite my melancholy introductory paragraphs, today has not been a total bummer. The ability to sit quietly at my computer, sipping sweet tea, and soaking in the KLOVE in a house all by myself, is a big step for me, I feel. And I am thinking now, thinking about how all of this is working in my life to make me the person God wants me to be. I have to accept that on some level, I may never go back to the old me. And on some level, I don't want to. The old me tried to do things in her own strength, the old me was judgmental and censorious, the old me tried to cram so much in to please God that she drowned out the voice of God, Himself. I don't want to be that person ever again. But I would like my “hope” back. (I know that just believing that I'll have “hope” again is “hope” itself.) I look for the day that when I think of doing some future event (as simple as walking on the beach, or as life-altering as walking down the aisle), I have a spark of excitement ignite in my soul. I want my joy back.

This evening, as I was walking with my mom and sister-in-law, someone brought up shoes. Running shoes, to be more specific. I haven't had my running shoes out all summer. (After my half-marathon in May, I kinda lost interest.) Someone asked, “Are you going to start running again?” I've been thinking about that for some time now. Am I going to start running again? Maybe. But then again, maybe not. I've decided that I only want to do things that I really want to do. And to stop trying so hard to squeeze something significant into every day, and just appreciate every day for its own significance. The Psalmist said, “This is the day that the Lord has made!” And then, we are admonished to rejoice and be glad. Every day has its own value simply because it is given to us by God. Besides, it's such an achievement for me to get through a day, I haven't had the emotional energy to think of doing anything significant with it. My expectation on myself, as I move forward, is this: to start building something that looks less like a resume and more like a life. I'm tired of trying so hard to make a list of accomplishments I can rattle off in an interview, but all the while screaming on the inside. In some effort to earn love, respect, and value, I lost something that mattered: Me. And God doesn't want my list of accomplishments, he doesn't want my volunteer hours, my sacrifices, my busy schedule. He just wants me. So as I release all the clutter in order that I might embrace Him, I am finding underneath it all, I am somewhere at the bottom of my pile. And maybe it's at the bottom, where I find joy again.

Stronger

Day 37

There are days when I’m okay. And days when I’m not. True to my female nature, I can be going along without a thought or a care and suddenly be taken out at the knees by some memory, careless comment, or otherwise harmless song. I remind myself that this is a journey, chin up, and keep trying to move forward. There are moments when I know I’m only hanging on by a thread, a thin spider-web, to some sense of normalcy. I know I am being lifted up in prayer, and if not for that prayer, God only knows where I’d be.

I know that God is hearing my prayers today, aware of my grief and pain. He sees my struggle. God’s been using music in the healing part of this journey and today I heard a song (again, I’ve heard it multiple times) that spoke to my heart. The song is “Stronger” by Mandisa and the chorus goes as follows: 

When the waves are taking you under

Hold on just a little bit longer

He knows that this is gonna make you stronger, stronger

The pain ain't gonna last forever

And things can only get better

Believe me, this is gonna make you stronger

And part of me thinks, “God, I don’t want to be stronger. Can we just stop right here?”

And God says, “I thought you wanted Me to use you. I thought you wanted to reach out to hurting people and make a difference in their lives. I thought you wanted My perfect will for your life.”

To which I respond, “Oh yes, I do. I just don’t want it to hurt so bad.”

To which He responds, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”

Perfect. His strength is made perfect in weakness. Wow, the perfect strength of God working inside of me, and all I have to do is be weak. I’m not very good at being weak, I’ll admit. I like to fix things (and there’s nothing I like more than to fix than myself), I like to keep a million balls in the air while everyone looks on with admiration, I like to be a bull in a china shop sometimes. My personality does not lend itself easily to gentleness, meekness, softness, or weakness. But God wants to use my weakness to make me stronger. Only, not stronger in my own strength, stronger in His strength, His perfect strength. And if that’s not enough, God reminds me of all those around me who are in the heat of the battle themselves. They are fighting, they are struggling, they are on the verge of fainting, and how can I encourage them if I can’t stand? If, in my light affliction, I forget that I have “fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us: Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast,” (Hebrews 6:18-19) then how can I cheer them on to victory? After all, Isaiah tells us, and Paul tells us again, “He will swallow up death in victory.” And Jesus says, “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” He’s already fought the battle. And even better, He has already won!

So today, I say with Paul, “Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.” Oh God, make it so.