07/22/2024
Discipline
July 22, 2024
I didn't want to go to church on Sunday. I started to get sad last Thursday, for no reasons I could identify. I was hanging with my mom and sister, and it was a blessed time of catching up. There was no good reason for the sadness. Yet, it hit me hard enough that my sister looked at me later in the evening before she headed home and asked me if there was something on my mind. I don't remember what I told her, but mostly I just tried to shake it off.
I came home Saturday morning. Corey was at work, and I decided to work on some housework stuff. I put on my music instead of a story, and began to sing along as I did dishes and cleaned counters. By the third song, the tears hit, but also something unexpected. I was angry. Deeply angry at God. Thoughts springing into my head that questioned every decision I have made to follow Him these last nearly two decades. Thoughts that questioned His love for me, His presence, His guidance. I had known the weeping was going to have to come, but had not expected such bitterness, anger, and despair.
I found myself yelling at God in ways I haven't in years, since before I came back to faith. Accusations. Criticisms. Desperation. I'm done. I quit. By the time Corey got home, I was wrecked. I hadn't seen him in a week, and the poor man comes home to me spitting mad and in tears. He pressed to ask me what was wrong, and I told him. He tried to redirect me by asking me what I would tell someone in my state, and I flipped my lid.
Earlier in the day, I ran across a post that made me realize a Facebook friend I have followed and conversed with for years was dead. Upon investigation, this man of strong faith, encouragement, and determination, who had inspired thousands of people in the years I'd known him, had succumbed to a battle with suicidal thoughts.
It struck me as I wept for this man and his friends and family that what I was struggling with was not my own thoughts, but an alien force, taking advantage of the opening made possible by my current time of deep transition, where all my normal anchors are being removed one by one. It also struck me that I am not alone in that battle, and it is a battle.
The trouble is, even knowing it was a battle, I couldn't stop it. It has been a really long time since I have been rolled under by such vicious spiritual turmoil. I cannot remember the last time I could not extricate myself from the attacks of the enemy. I could not even make myself sit down to read my Bible, and singing His praises simply made me weep harder. I do not remember the last time I felt that separated from God.
This is where discipline comes in and how God can use it, when I am too overwhelmed to stand. Corey had to work on Sunday, and I had already arranged for Kenny to come get me and the kids for church. Emma's friend was already spending the night to go to church in the morning. I didn't want to go to church, but I always go to church. There was never really any question of if I would go, no matter how I felt about it.
We arrived right on time, but I couldn't sing the music. I tried, but it set off the same raging thoughts in my mind that had hit me the day before. So I got quiet and bowed my head to try to pray, as I always do when I can't sing for some reason. I finally sat, because my feet hurt some from the shoes. I hadn't talked to anyone about what was going on, besides Corey and Kenny. I had smiled and said hello and made small talk as always on our way to our seats. Even the sitting during the songs is not necessarily completely out of the ordinary in our setting. I sat quietly, working to still my thoughts.
I was angry. I was sad. I felt unseen by God. I felt abandoned and rejected by God. I felt a swirl of emotions and thoughts I cannot even begin to describe, and a weight, a heaviness ... Then I felt hands lightly on my shoulders. I heard words gently spoken. The hands brushed over my shoulders back and forth, "Break. Break. Break off the spirit of confusion and give clarity of vision and thoughts. We break off the spirit of rejection. We thank you that you have a plan, and are preparing the perfect place for your daughter..." It went on for a few minutes, and then the hands and voice were gone.
I knew who those hands belonged to without opening my eyes. And I knew my friend Jason had been sent by God with a message, and had seen the spiritual battle I recognized but could not fight. I work frequently in prayer ministry, and God uses me in those settings, but I am not constitutionally an intercessor. I don't think I ever quite understood how that gifting works in those whose primary calling is intercessory prayer. They see what is happening and God sends them to intercede so His children can be freed.
Two things I want to leave you with from this amazing testimony of God responding. There is a battle raging against the people of God, and alone we are unable to stand. Even when we are in Christ, the enemy can still come against us in ways that will take us under in moments when we are vulnerable. Each of us has brothers and sisters in Christ who need us to come alongside and fight the battle for them when they are faltering. Check your six, and check theirs, reach out and stay connected.
Second, if God prompts you to reach out, I don't care if you think you sound stupid, it doesn't matter if you think the person is busy or would object to your butting into their time and space. Go. Speak what He wants you to speak. Put your hand on their shoulder, or hold their hand, touch their head, whatever God prompts. Some of us operate in that gift of intercession all the time, it is their burden and their gift. But, God uses the willing to reach those near to them. Don't let your own fears and insecurities get in the way of God using you to break somebody's chains.
I am still feeling pretty weepy and a little lost. My emotions are still a little edgy, and I am grateful the Lord is calling me to step away and be still and listen to Him for a couple of days. The difference between Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon is that now I believe He will talk, and I will hear. The foreign voices, the ones that mimic old fears and dead thoughts, are silenced. The weight is gone. Prayers are still appreciated. But, I am praising God for the reminder that He sees me, and even in my faltering faith and denial, He rescues, and I am not alone. Neither are you.
