faith unfaded

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, in the midst of anguish so deep I did not get out of bed until 3 PM the next day. It’s been a long time since I let a dagger burrow so deeply in my heart. Nothing in this situation changed, and it is a hurt I will carry for the rest of my life. I brought it to the foot of the cross—over and over again—until I was finally willing to leave it there. It is the only reason I can still walk with joy today.

I recorded these feelings in the midst of my despair to help me process my emotions in a non-destructive way. I didn’t want to share it until I’d fully surrendered the pain to the Lord. It still hurts—it probably always will—but I have the choice of dealing with that hurt in the flesh or in the spirit.

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I’ve powered through the day, able to remain in the Spirit even as I faced challenges. My peace is priceless, and I guard it like a vault.
My joy is deep, and not easily squelched.

But I felt a little like an ice sculpture today— staying in the required frigid temps, but contending with frequent chisel-wielding visitors.

They were steadily chipping away.

I’m trying to prep for a 6-week trip. There are itineraries and social media schedules, lodging and tickets, and I’m trying to make sure nothing slips through the cracks.

There are also three weekly local columns that must be prescheduled before I leave, as well as three months of magazine articles to submit so I’m not facing deadlines on the road while also creating content and writing travel articles.

I’m doing what I love—don’t get me wrong—but the time pressure is overwhelming. I’m still living my life in the midst of this prep, and fulfilling prior obligations and commitments.

It’s a tad frantic, but I can handle the pressure I put on myself.

I cannot always handle the pressure put on me by others.

Repeated calls over work I already know is due—but not yet late—had me frustrated enough to close my laptop and read instead. When pushed, I no longer push back. I walk away.

Later, a family event was scheduled for the middle of my trip. It’s impossible to make it home and I was devastated knowing that I’ll miss it.

I thought I’d dealt with the frustration and disappointment pretty well until it came time to turn out the light. In the dark the thoughts have descended on me like a swarm of bees, burning with every sting.

Their presence matters. Yours doesn’t. 

The chanting repeats over and over, the words getting louder in the still of the night.

Satan loves to do his dirty work in the dark. He brings receipts from every other heartbreak, piling on past hurts for good measure.

Right now I don’t want to fight the devil, my feelings, or my to-do list. I want to sleep. I want the mental torment to stop. I want my heart to stop feeling like it’s breaking in two. I want all of the other missed events to stop playing on a loop in my head. I know the enemy is behind the projector.

It’s been a long time since I’ve tried to sleep with so much anguish. Maybe that’s not a bad thing. I don’t ever want to take for granted how the Lord can take a troubled mind and a broken heart and restore them completely. I remember those nights all too well.

I recently told my mom, “This is just a bad night, not a bad life.”

Seems like I need to listen to my own words tonight.

These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world. John 16:33