A Little Side Trip on the Crazy Train

At the last stop I got off and boarded the crazy train. Not by choice. I think I was just going to the gift shop at the train station to restock on chocolate and got on the wrong train. This one is terrible and the sound of the wheels against the track is like a voice that tells me this fight is pointless. I've tried everything I can to combat this anxiety and depression. Eating healthy within my limited food budget, exercise daily, drink lots of green tea, none of these things seem to be helping. I've lost all but one of my friends, this is the one tough time they couldn't seem to stick through. I've been told to stop feeling sorry for myself, to make the choice to feel better and that has only left me more alone. This is not a choice. Trust me, who would choose to feel like this?! Two years ago on the 23rd of this month a dear friend of ours committed suicide. At the time I could not imagine why he would do such a thing. His business was successful, he was surrounded by loving family. I understand so much better now. Sometimes when I'm not in crazy mode and I feel almost close to normal I can still feel it, like an itch, in the back of my mind. A watchfulness, wondering what is the next thing to set me off, when am I going to feel that awful anxiety again? Anxiety is such a tame word for it. It is a terror, a horror, and because it is inside of your mind you can't escape it no matter what you do. I've been reading two books during this time: the bible and Thornyhold by Mary Stewart. I've read that book about two dozen times in the last few months. While reading either one I achieve a quasi-calm. I read a daily devotion from In Touch Ministries (www.intouch.org) and follow up with Psalm 118 and Matthew 11:28-30 then I just flip through until something catches my eye. I have a lot of passages highlighted and tons of bookmarks in my bible so I often turn to something that has brought me peace before.
Recently I was allowed to go through some of the old family photos. I found a few pictures of myself as a little girl. I was not a happy child. Solitary and lonely, always daydreaming, so different from my family. Most of the pictures show me with a small, forced smile. I felt unloved and knew that it was true. One of the biggest revelations in my life has been that I have spent my life looking for love and approval, never to find it. I didn't remember my mother, my father was too busy with my brothers and my stepmother was every kind of evil stepmom cliche' rolled into one. Do you know what it does to a person when the people that are supposed to love them do not? You look for love, everywhere.
I grew up in a fire and brimstone church and heard the phrase "God'll get you for that" often. I developed a fearful relationship with God, with which I still struggle. Over time though I have come to realize that all the love, all the parental guidance and approval I have longed for is available to me through God, my father. Because He is, indeed, my father. And yours. He isn't sitting up on some cloud looking down and saying "Okay, if she messes up one more time I'm really going to give it to her!" It took me a long time to figure that out - though I still have those irrational fears in the back of my mind.
One day, though, while looking through the bible I found a passage that gave me such a wonderful look at God as a father that I not only underlined the passage but I got out my yellow highlighter and then added a bookmark to the page. I turn to it often:

Hosea 11:1-4

When Israel was a child, I loved him

and out of Egypt I called my son.

But the more I called Israel

the further they went from me.

They sacrificed to the Baals

and they burned incense to images.

It was I who taught Ephraim to walk,

taking them by the arms;

but they did not realize

it was I who healed them.

I led them with cords of human kindness,

with ties of love;

I lifted the yoke from their neck

and bent down to feed them.

Such a wonderful image of a dedicated, loving father desperately trying to help His children. Even if you didn't grow up with parents that loved you, you still did, because God has always been your father. And mine. I think about that a lot lately, and I turn to my father in these dark times. I know He is there, I know. But so often I still feel alone in the dark. But I read those words in Hosea and I think that maybe as much as I am struggling, He is trying to help me. I hope so, I really need the help right now. 

Second Stop: Loneliness. Population: Me . . . and Jesus

     Growing up in a houseful of brothers all several years older than myself, I spent a lot of time alone at home. Picked on at school, I spent most of my time alone there as well. Lonely became comfortable, safe. Each time I tried to reach out I would end up with another broken piece of my heart in my outstretched hands. I was always hopeful though. I dreamed of a warm, loving family. Close girlfriends and sleepovers. We had several board games at home and I usually played them by myself, hoping someone in my family would come along and take pity on me. I was desperate enough to be willing to accept a pity game but they never joined so I played alone. I grew up and married a man much older than myself who traveled for work. He'd fly all over the country, was gone for months at a time. Our daughter was born with severe disabilities and the few friends I had at the time were so uncomfortable they stopped coming over. Once again, I was alone most of the time. I actually looked forward to the many hospital stays. There was a sense of community within the pediatric ward at the hospital. Eventually my son was born and I wasn't so alone anymore. As he grew we spent a lot of time reading together, playing board games. I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed buying his first board game! Within a few years we had a walk-in closet dedicated to board games. Now that he is a teenager though, he spends most of his time in his room with the door closed. Board games, crafts and reading with Mom are just not as appealing as they once were. Home bound in a town where we know very few people, I am alone again. Over time, though, lonely stopped being a comfortable place. Lonely stopped being quiet and safe. It roars in my ears, pulling the walls in until I am suffocating. My anxiety has grown until it is a monster that shadows me, giving me no peace. I tried to talk to a few of my friends about this growing anxiety and depression. I got a lot of suggestions like "Start your day with positive thoughts" and "Happiness is a choice". I know they didn't mean to do so but their advice only made me feel more alone. In fact, I have never felt more alone in my life and I think that is saying something.

     I turned to my bible but it didn't really help. Not until I ran across a daily devotion that detailed some of the emotions that Jesus experienced in the last weeks of his life. One of those emotions was loneliness. I was shocked. It had never occurred to me that Jesus would have been lonely. He was always surrounded by people that loved him! How on Earth could he have been lonely? I read the bible passages that accompanied the devotion and realized that if this was true then Jesus understood what I was going through - because He, too, had experienced loneliness! And not just loneliness, sadly, but fear and loss as well. I began to look at passages in the bible differently. Suddenly I could see a pattern that had escaped me all of my life. I grabbed a blank index card and wrote in bold letters: Jesus Understands. On the back I listed several stories in the bible that illustrated this fact. And as I read my bible each day, I am on the lookout for more. You see, I had always had this vague idea that Jesus had a pretty simple life. He knew who He was, He completely understood and embraced His purpose. Things like fear, loneliness, grief, anger . . . they didn't mesh with the experience I imagined Jesus had as a man. I thought the knowledge that he was the son of God was somehow  . . . insulation against the deeper, negative emotions. But the truth is He came to Earth as a man to fully and completely experience life as a human. Love, anger, loneliness, grief, need, hunger, fear - all part of the human experience. The next day the devotion was about the names of Jesus and how they described the different aspects of his life: Prince of Peace, Almighty, Bread of Life, Great Shepherd, Counselor, Deliverer . . . the list was extensive and each one added another piece to the puzzle of Jesus that I was slowly putting together. Then I saw the name Man of Sorrows:

He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Isaiah 53:3

     I cried when I read that. I hated the idea that Jesus suffered that much. On the heels of that terrible realization I finally understood that He is called Counselor because He has lived through the same pain, He understands, and can counsel us accordingly. There is comfort in that, as God intended, I'm sure. When the anxiety takes over, I try to hang on to that one truth. When the loneliness threatens to consume me, I cling to that one, comforting truth:

Jesus Understands

     Perhaps you will find comfort in that truth as well. When you are overwhelmed by loneliness, when you are stumbling around in your own personal darkness and feel like even your friends have abandoned you, remember that Jesus felt the same way in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew  26:36-46). If you are drowning in grief consider that Jesus wept over the death of His friend Lazarus (John 11: 33-36) and showed His understanding of the grief of others when He raised the widows son from the dead, so moved was He by her tears (Luke 7: 11-17).  Jesus understood fear as well. How else can you explain His reaction when the people came to Jairus, with whom He was walking, and told him that his daughter was dead. Jesus immediately told Jairus "Don't be afraid; just believe." (Mark 5:36) Jesus knew the news created an instant reaction of fear and dread within Jairus. I imagine He took him by the shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes as He told him those beautiful words, words I often repeat to myself: Don't be afraid, just believe. 

     Life is a journey over rough terrain. The twists and turns and bumps can leave us bruised and broken. Thank God (literally) that there is a Counselor we can turn to who knows exactly what we are feeling because He was bruised and broken, too. 

First stop: Doubt. Population: Millions.

     When God delivered the Israelites from Egypt, He did so with what could be considered much pomp and circumstance. While it is hard to think of the word "miracle" when one considers the plagues that befell Egypt, they were just that - miracles. Signs and wonders. From the burning bush to the manna in the desert. God was performing incredible miracles for all to see. And yet, how did the Israelites respond? Each time circumstances turned difficult, they doubted. They railed against Moses. They wailed and cried and often wished to be back in Egypt, once again enslaved but comforted by the familiar. I can certainly sympathize, I'm not an adventurous person myself and the familiar is, indeed, safer than the unknown. But I have always puzzled over their doubt. How could they doubt? God brought plagues, parted a sea and allowed them to walk across the seafloor to safety, He provided a guiding pillar of smoke and another of fire, poured down food from heaven. . . ! I am certain I would never doubt God if He manifested such extraordinary miracles in my presence.
     Or would I? What is the nature of a miracle? Is the word "miracle" not defined as an extraordinary act of divine intervention?

An extraordinary act of divine intervention.

     Does a miracle have to be as awesome as the parting of a sea for us to count it as such? Or can a miracle be . . . quieter? Certainly just as awe inspiring but on a smaller scale. A kind stranger when you were at the end of your rope. Twenty dollars pressed into your palm by someone that whispered "God wanted me to share this with you" without realizing you couldn't feed your children that day. A call, out of the blue, from a friend when you need someone the most. We tend not to think of such things as miracles. Some even might call them coincidences. But make no mistake - they are, indeed, extraordinary acts of divine intervention - and at the time we usually recognize them as such. But, like the Israelites, we often forget those gloriously intimate moments with God and allow doubt to take root again.
     While reading Exodus recently, I realized that I, too, doubt God even in the face of wondrous miracles. Divorced, caring for two children alone, struggling with Lupus, my daughter's severe disabilities, and financial difficulties, I have met God many times in both friends and strangers alike. And yet, when the next crisis occurs, I doubt. How can I possibly look at the Israelites with incredulity when I am no different? Does it matter that paying the rent isn't as "showy" a miracle as parting a sea? Because despite the fact that it was not a miracle to garner worldwide attention, being gifted with the money to pay my rent was still an extraordinary act of divine intervention. A miracle I prayed for most fervently and a miracle that God delivered, among many others. Some of those miracles I have forgotten. Isn't that terrible? Moments that God made it clear that He was right there, by my side, actively working in my life, and I've forgotten many of them. Life moved on and those "ordinary" miracles were forgotten in the overwhelming worry of the next difficulty.
     Aren't we lucky Moses took the time to commit to paper the many miracles God performed for the Israelites? Imagine those events occurring now and Moses authoring a blog:

'Yesterday God parted the Red Sea so that we could walk to safety. It was an extraordinary feat, a glorious example of the power and majesty of our God. Today the people look out at the desert before us and think maybe they should have stayed in Egypt. God, give me patience!'

     Perhaps the Israelites would have been a little less doubtful if they had the chance to read daily summaries of their activities, realizing that God always saved them. But, somehow, I doubt it. After all, I have the entire Bible of miracles as well as the experience of miracles in my own life and still I doubt. I worry. I become consumed with anxiety and fear. I forget miracles.
     Luckily, God does not. He does not forget that we are human and fallible. He does not forget that He loves us and has gone to great lengths to save us - usually from ourselves - time and again. Rather, He walks patiently with us, working miracles and weaving them into the tapestry of our lives so effortlessly that they appear as common occurrences to us, appreciated in the moment but quickly forgotten. It would seem that little has changed since the time of Moses.
     I'd like to conclude with some suggestion, some divinely inspired gem of wisdom that will take away all of your doubts, fears, and mine, but I have none. I am not, after all, Solomon. I probably would have asked for wealth, or beauty, or the love of a particular someone. If I'd had a little time to ponder maybe even calorie free chocolate. But not wisdom. And so I will leave you with this: GOD HAS YOUR BACK. Write that down somewhere because you are going to forget it soon. And you know what? God will have your back anyway. And that, dear reader, is the most extraordinary act of divine intervention of all.