Oh Death

“I start the day, the war begins,” so beautifully penned Mark Hall. I have been starting each day in a very routine way over the last week. After tossing and turning all night, falling into a fitful sleep haunted by vivid dreams that refer back to nothing and seem to hold all the answers to anything at all, I wait for the 6:30 alarm. Hit the snooze. At 6:35, I roll out of bed, wander into my living room where I see my best friend/roommate sitting at the end of the couch working at her computer, the dog curled up beside her. Then I, being the MeMonster that I have become, curl up at the other end of the couch and bemoan my life while she listens patiently. God forbid she’s not there! That breaks the whole routine. I have to lay there not-so-silently until she finally comes into the room, takes her spot, and allows me to bemoan even louder and more to the point. Why is it that pain turns me into the most self-centered person on the planet?

I explained to another friend last night that as bad as it seems right now, three weeks ago it was worse. Three weeks ago I looked and acted like a person losing her mind. I felt like a person losing her mind. There were days when I couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t eat, couldn’t interact with other people. It was so bad that I had to just quit my second job. Now, I could make a list (a long list) of reasons that I didn’t need to be working a second job: It was cutting into every other aspect of my life, I was completely worn out, I dreaded going in, I justified going against personal convictions to work there, etc., etc., etc. But really, since I’m being honest, I quit because I couldn’t spend another shift (5-6 hours) locked inside my own head that way. Thoughts, that seemed to slither in like a serpent, would coil around my mind and heart, squeezing out all reason and common sense. Before I could finish my shift, I would have a complete nervous breakdown and have to leave. Revisiting it even now makes me shudder.

Today, I got out of bed, but not because I wanted to. In fact, I tried to convince my roommate that we should both just stay home today-that way I wouldn’t have to be alone. But I got up, got ready, and went to work anyway. You can call that progress. Or sheer determination. I call it a hill, and brace myself for the next valley. Pessimistic? Perhaps. Realistic? Definitely.

As the song says: “The hurt can't hurt forever, and the tears are sure to dry. And it won't rain always.” In my head, I know that’s true. In my heart, where the pain stems from, I’m finding it hard to believe. I can feel the prayers of God’s people keeping me afloat today. That’s as much as I can ask for. I am hanging on to my verse from Psalm 119:169 (“Let my cry come near before thee, O LORD: give me understanding according to thy word”), and searching the Word for answers. Today as I read in John 17, I was reminded that Jesus prayed for me over 2,000 years ago (John 17:20 - Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word). And this reminds me that yes, Jesus loves me. So as I continue to dig out whatever is holding me captive inside, I trust in Jesus and His unfailing love for me. Love as strong as death, even death on a cross. Because maybe I, like Paul, am being crucified with Christ. Nevertheless, I live. So even though I have been sobbing even this very afternoon without any warning or any specific trigger (it just comes out), I still lay hold upon the hope set before me, that my Redeemer liveth. And even though it feels like death, it may in all actuality be the birth of new life, a brand new creature in Christ. No matter the outcome, it’s all in God’s hands.

By Faith

By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain; by faith Enoch was translated that he should not see death; by faith Noah prepared an ark; by faith Abraham, when he was called to go, obeyed; and by faith Ashley (that’s me) started a blog about her journey into holiness right in the midst of the most painful season of her life. It’s not that I feel holy. Or even that I feel that I am moving towards God in some hot pursuit of holiness. In fact, I would never have started this journey because I was convinced I was already holy and in right standing with God. But about four weeks ago, (July 26^th to be precise) God confirmed within me the call on my life into full time ministry. Now, for all you Bible College buffs, you may be surprised that this confirmation of calling didn’t come at an altar of prayer surrounded by the godliest people I know, or while reading my Bible, or while listening to a sermon in church. I was simply counseling at youth camp and completely in my element. I had so much joy and excitement; I knew that God wanted me to pour out my life into other people. I sat in the church van that night, talking to my boyfriend (my awesome, perfect boyfriend-but we’ll get to that later) about how God was showing me my life and revealing to me His will. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so happy I was, sitting in that van in the middle of the night, on the phone, a cabin full of sleeping girls that were my responsibility, and the presence of God surrounding me. Oh what joy to serve the Lord! And if I could go back to any moment, that’s the moment I would go back to. I have agonized, I have wept and prayed, I have lamented, I have begged-- God, take me back to that moment. That moment when everything was good and right and perfect. Take me back. Take me back. But, wishful thinking and willful obstinance does not create a portal of return, though I’m certain I’m not the only one who would find such a portal a relief.
It was the next day, (for those of you keeping track, Wednesday, July 27^th) the very next day that everything changed. If you’re on the edge of your seat awaiting some fantastic tragedy or cataclysmic event, sit back. It was simply a feeling. A feeling that nagged at the pit of my stomach. A feeling that would not be ignored, though I tried my best to shrug it off or chalk it up to exhaustion, etc. But no, it would not do. The feeling persisted until it held me captive, a prisoner inside my own head. It dominated all of my thoughts, held a stranglehold on every emotion, pulled me down into a depression as I resisted the only thing I knew I had to do. I didn’t want to break up with my boyfriend (if you’ll remember, I think he’s awesome and perfect), but whatever this feeling was that was burning up my insides, insisted that I break off the relationship. Oh no God, anything but that. Take anything but that. I would rather give up my own legs, than let go of that. Two weeks of sheer torment went by. I sought counsel, godly counsel. I wept and prayed. I tried to suppress my feelings with logic and rational thinking. I spent the weekend with him, but it was a miserable weekend. All because I knew what was required of me. Sacrifice of the most acute kind, not of an imperfect or blemished offering, but of my most precious earthly treasure. How could it be? And on Saturday (August 20^th), amid tears and confusion, I released him to God. Not only my confusion and I suspect not only my tears… But it’s done. So I waited for peace to flow through me. It’s Thursday. I’m still waiting.
I’ve been told by my pastor that this is my journey to holiness. It feels like a journey to hell, if I’m being honest. I have good moments and bad moments. There are moments when I miss Nick so desperately that I just sob and sob. And moments when I’m so confused, I can’t function. And as I try to pray, I say “try” because I can’t feel the clear path between me and God, I simply have to remind God (really remind myself) of the promises in His word. Today I opened the word to Psalm 119: 169 in the midst of my crying and read: “Let my cry come near before thee, O LORD: give me understanding according to thy word.” And so I trust in His word today, in this moment of clarity, and despite the ache down inside, the knowledge that my soul is still searching, I trust that God will give me understanding according to His word. And I acknowledge through the pain, fear, and doubt that this is indeed a journey of faith.
“But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.” Hebrews 11:6.