*possible trigger warning* I have pondered over and over what to place into words in regards to this. At one point, I feel as though nothing need be said. On the other, not saying anything feels as though it would be a betrayal of God and His workings. Therefore, I suppose I will spill my guts. The past week has marked two significant anniversaries for me. February 21, 2019 was the day I was going to commit suicide. February 25, 2019 was when a close friend of mine betrayed me to the extent that I have come to consider it the worst day of my life. The last year and a half has been a constant struggle through suicidal ideations, constant anxiety, paranoia, relentless emotional highs and lows, abandonment by people who promised they'd stay and then didn't, and complete, utter darkness. C.S. Lewis sums up the feeling best in A Grief Observed, with the quote: "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to I often still feel this way. The purpose of this writing is not to tell of a miraculous healing or a complete spiritual turnaround. It's to show the pain that remains even when people are pouring Bible verses relentlessly into you concerning the love and joy of God. It's to display the anger that comes when spiritual bypassing occurs. It's to show the hurt when someone tells you that you don't have enough faith because you suffer from a mental illness. For the longest time, without even realizing it, I was angry with God. I avoided Him. Matthew 5:3 (ESV) says, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." But what do you do when you have been mourning endlessly, gruesomely and have found no comfort in the arms of God? What do you do when you try to draw near but it's as though God is millions of lightyears away or even just far enough to where He is out of reach? This was where my anger began. There was this promise, but I felt jipped. There was only pain. Only numbness. Only nothingness. This is not to say that this is who God is. I realize now that it was upon me to make the choice to turn to Him, because of the other promise in James 4:8 (ESV), "Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you." But it's important to include this part. It's okay to wrestle with God. It's okay to wrestle with belief. The fact that we are people with minds and rationality indicate that it is impossible to blindly buy into something without working through it. The more we work through it, the more we come to understand God. The more we see His attributes and the truth about Him. It's been a long road. It's been a process. One that I am not even near close to finished with. Sanctification is a continuous undertaking of God refining (Zechariah 13:9) and testing us until we are holy as He is (Leviticus 11:44/1 Peter 1:16). God is a God of Joy and of Love but that doesn't mean He is not also the God of Wrath, of Sorrow, etc. Jesus is our Savior, that is absolute truth; however, that doesn't excuse us to ruminate within a situation and take no responsibility for our choices. It doesn't mean we remain somewhere unhealthy merely because we're waiting for Him to swoop in and save us. It comes from both sides, we draw near and as we do this, He comes close. It requires effort on both parts. I think for the longest time, I've been in a valley. It's as if I stepped off a cliff with no warning and careened to the ground within a matter of seconds. When I hit the ground, the low point, I laid there. Allowed the wind to be knocked out of me. Allowed myself to become immoveable. Justified it with "I'm just in the valley right now, it will get better." But how is it supposed to get better if I do nothing but lie there and stare into the distance, making no effort to cry out to God because it appears pointless. I came to the point where I considered not believing in God anymore-- not because I didn't think He was real but because it seemed to require too much of me. There is no doubt in my mind that God, YHVH, is real. He has worked so many miracles in my life and I have felt the Spirit closer than my own breath. But I could barely get out of bed, and sometimes still can't, so focusing on any task was inconceivable in my mind. In the midst, I decided to read Ezekiel. I'm not exactly sure why. I just felt like that was what I needed to do, despite having no desire to and no discipline to. When reading, I came across these two verses (Ezekiel 3:22-23, ESV): And the hand of the LORD was upon me there. These verses have really stuck with me and I recite them often. YHVH sent Ezekiel out into the valley. He did not appear there or just fall down the mountain. God purposely told Him to go there in order that he could meet with Him. I've often heard the term "God of the hills and valleys" and constantly reread Psalm 139:8 (ESV): "If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!" I read this and meditated over the idea but I don't think I ever truly comprehended it until I read these two verses. God sent Ezekiel to the valley so He could speak with him. When Ezekiel arrived, he experienced the awe of the magnificent glory of YHVH. God is not passive in the valley. It's not as if some other force He is unable to control placed me there and He is walking alongside me, apologetic and powerless. He controls the highs and lows. He is Sovereign. My own choices or the total depravity introduced by sin may have driven me there, but God knew it would happen. He brought me here to teach me something. He sent me to the valley in order to receive some sort of knowledge, some sort of experience from Him in order that I can utilize it for personal and communal edification. Another point that is significant to note is that God is not some positive life coach. He is not next to you, spurring you forward, saying "You can get through this, just keep going." He does say that, yes. But because of Jesus' time on Earth and His sacrifice, He understands. He understands the pain. He understands the sorrow. He listens. He comforts. He is a safe place. You don't have to make yourself joyful to speak to God. You don't have to justify experiencing human emotions and issues to God. You can fully be yourself. You can give all of yourself. Matthew 11:28-30 (ESV) says: Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Jesus promises rest when you come to Him. He promises peace. This is something that I'm learning lately. Rest is important as a general thing, but rest in the Spirit is one of the most significant aspects in life. He is only the one who can lighten the load. He is the only one who can restore. Again, I am not attempting to say everything is rainbows, sunshine, and unicorns. Or, that I've done a complete 180 and am now the happiest person on the planet because I am not. I experience happiness rarely. But the joy of YHVH is slowly permeating every simple time in life. When I sit on a swing on campus, when I take a walk in the rain, when I lay down to go to sleep and I feel His presence looming over me in a benevolent and caring way. My word for this year is restoration. And piece-by-piece, He is restoring. He is putting back together what has been shattered by depression, by wrong choices, by hurt. It's slow and tedious and painful, often leading me into impatience because I want to be somewhere else. I just want to be better. But the growth is in the process. The learning is in the closeness of allowing God to piece us back together. There is no image of what we should look like as Christians except for the image of Jesus. Other people around us are not the standard. Perhaps they're faking it just as much as we are? But that's a different discussion for another time. A popular song in rotation is "Waymaker." I really like this song. God is the Waymaker. But He recently spoke to me and said, "I AM the Valleymaker." He is the One that sends us there and it is for a reason. God does nothing without purpose. He orchestrates nothing with no objective in mind. Knowing this puts me at ease. It shows me that He has me in this place on purpose for a purpose. He has me here because He loves me and desires to better equip me for my call. This doesn't mean I won't experience depression or anxiety because I biologically have those things. Praying hard enough won't make them disappear. They're part of my reality. God can heal, but He just hasn't. And He has a reason in that as well. The point is to display that progress is not always quick. It's not one prayer and boom instant healing. It can be. But it hasn't been in my case. And that is okay. Honestly, I'm glad I've seen rock bottom. I'm glad I fell in the pit. Although my progress is slow and I'm only a couple feet from where I was before, it has taught me so much about God. And about myself. I'm in the Valley. But I'm seeing the glory.
2 Comments
Lori Terrell
2/26/2020 01:22:19 pm
You are a wonderful person. I send my love and prayers to you as you walk through the valley.
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bella
2/26/2020 01:43:48 pm
thank you!
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