Several months ago I had an experience that started out sweet but eventually lead to brokenness. It was one of the first days of March. Several hours after I went to bed I woke up and couldn't sleep. I can't remember the time exactly but I'm going to guess it somewhere in the 2am to 4am range. This has happened to me on various occasions...sometimes it's connected to anxiety and stress, sometimes it's hormonal and other times I just can't figure out. This time, it was different.
When I woke up, I felt peace. I wasn't wrestling to fall asleep as had happened in the past. And I wasn't in daydream land either. I felt peace and an invitation. An invitation from God to be in His presence and spend these strange and dark hours with Him. It was sweet.
The next night, the same thing happened. Still sweet. And then it happened again and again, night after night. A week had gone by. The sleeplessness was wearing on me and I began to feel a spark of fear in the midst of the invitation I sensed God extending to me. How long would this last?
Fast forward a few more days and the creeping in of fear was more apparent. But more then that, anxiety. And while I've felt anxiety before, I don't ever remember it like this.
I had an appointment to get an MRI, of all things. (Luckily, it was for my knee so I didn't have to go all the way into the tube. Phew!) I vaguely remember the drive but I do remember feeling desperate and scared....and praying God would take the anxiety from me. After I parked my car, I sat there for several minutes...shocked by the anxiety that gripped me, praying that God would hold me tightly and wondering what would push me over the edge. I felt like I was near a cliff but I couldn't tell how close I was to it or what would push me over it. Such fear I hadn't felt like that before. And what if I DID go over the edge? Now I'm not talking about taking me life (though after that experience I can imagine how anxiety could push you to that place), I'm talking about going crazy. What if the crazy that was inside of me in that moment didn't go away? I literally felt SO CRAZY inside....so so crazy. I wanted to crawl out of my skin.
And then I wondered, what would life look like if the anxiety I felt was my new normal? Would I be ok? Would I be able to do my job? And then the thoughts went deeper...Would I be able? Who would I be? "God, if I can't [remain sane/do my job/function well], how can I follow you?" These questions were all too familiar and yet were hitting places and possibilities that they hadn't before. (I don't know if you remember, but these same questions came up while I was walking the Camino...read my post "When walking fails..." if you need to be caught up to speed.)
The truths I had to wrestle with in that moment weren't God's presence or purpose, they were my understanding of what God means when he says "come follow me" and calls me His Beloved. Could I follow God if I was crazy? What do I think about those that are "crazy" according to society OR according to me? Would God love me if I couldn't follow through with my responsibilities? Once again, I had to face the fact that my "ability" isn't what God wants or needs or what makes me His beloved. He wants me. Me unable to walk. Me with crippling anxiety. Me unable to do "my job". Me as the "crazy" lady talking to herself on the corner. Me who is broken, always broken. Whoever "me" looks like, feels like, is experiencing and no matter what I am able to do or not do....broken me....that's who He wants and that is who He calls Beloved.
I don't know that I fully get it in the deepest parts of me. But, I've had another taste and that taste reminds me of how desperately I need Him....which is why I need to relive the story.
