A Psalm Of Chaos

 I am unsettled.

A bomb has gone off inside of my body.

Every moment is a battle.

Each second is a fight for control.

I choose FAITH over FEAR.

But I am still afraid.

Thoughts come unbidden.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want to think about these things.

They are not true.

They are not noble.

They are not right.

They are not pure.

They are not lovely.

They are not admirable.

I WANT to think about excellent or praiseworthy things.

So why are the *other* thoughts so loud?

I hear them, like constant screaming in my brain.

I force the negative thoughts to bow down.

They have no place in a heart that has been set free.

But the thoughts, they stand up again.

I force them to bow. Again.

Again, they rise.

Again, I make them bow.

The thoughts boomerang throughout my mind, draining my energy.

I want the roiling in my stomach to stop.

I want the constant feeling of suffocating to go away.

I want to feel stable again, even if just for a moment.

I want to not be tired from the fight.

I want the struggle to end.

But God, I don’t want to rush you.

I know that you are taking me somewhere new.

I know that you want to put this fear to death once and for all.

You want to walk me through the path to freedom from the anxiety that cripples me.

You are asking me to wait.

You are asking me to sit in this; all the while, you call me deeper.

You never promised it would be easy.

You actually promised it would be very difficult.

Because Jesus doesn’t make any sense.

The Cross is confusing.

It’s hard to understand how death can bring life.

And yet, it does.

Knowing that doesn’t make me less tired.

It doesn’t take away the shaking, the trembling, the heavy breaths that never feel quite complete.

How long am I called to sit in this?

Until it no longer has a hold on me?

How long will it take?

I’ve never been quick to learn the lesson.

So I want to rush through the pain and the stretching.

I want to be on the other side.

But I know it doesn’t work like that.

I have to walk through this, no matter how hard.

I have to sit in the panic that never quite leaves, until it no longer has a hold over me.

How do I get from here to there?

I know the end goal.

I can see it, just on the horizon.

I know that I can reach out and grab it.

Why can’t I connect my brain and my heart?

Why is it always so hard to surrender?

I can feel the resistance.

It just builds and builds, the more I desire to lay it down.

I hate this feeling.

I hate the internal struggle to let go.

To say, OK. It’s time to stop fighting.

And what about now?

When I am trying so hard to lay it down and let it go?

Why is it still so hard?

Why does relief not come?

How long do you want me to endure this?

I will.

But is there an end?

Will I ever be free of this anxiety in this earthly body?

Or is this another thorn in my side, like the pain?

Does this keep me from becoming prideful in all you have called me to do?

Does it point to you?

Or is there a deficiency in me that you want to fill?

I think there’s freedom for me.

I want there to be.

But the struggle is nearly unbearable.

The constant bringing my mind back under control has left me feeling weak and exposed.

This is spiritual warfare.

I expected it.

I knew that the enemy would ramp up efforts to divide and destroy.

I watched him do it before.

NO LONGER.

I refuse to let him have a hold in my life any longer.

If I need to put this to death once and for all, then I will buckle up and hold on for the fight of my life.

But can I rest a little along the way?

Can I have time to breathe and cry and recover?

Can I pause, when it all spills over, and just be held for a few minutes?

I close my eyes, and I call on the name of Jesus.

I sit at my desk at work, trying to hold it all together.

Tears fall down my cheeks as I try to focus.

I’m not sure I’ll make it through, and yet again, I do.

I put one foot in front of the other.

I take shallow breaths, because deep ones elude me.

I put my head in my hands and I cry out to Jesus.

Give me strength.

Give me relief.

Give me peace.

Teach me to put to death all that still remains of me.

I’ve been asking this for a while, and you are answering.

That’s why I am here, in this chaotic place.

Because I asked you to take me to the next level.

I told you that I was ready.

So I am not surprised by this.

I don’t even want you to take it away really.

It’s just that on days like today, I just want to rest.

Just for a bit.

And when I cry out for that, you remind me.

I am called to NOT be weary in doing good.

I am called to NOT give up in the kingdom work.

It’s all about you.

It has nothing to do with me.

So once again, I cry out for more of you and less of me.

Renew my mind.

Refresh my heart.

Give me strength to keep fighting.

Remind me when I am weak that it’s okay.

In my weakness, you show up best.

If weakness is what it takes for me to know you, continue to bring me to my knees.

Calm my anxious heart.

Still my shaking bones.

Ease the trembling I feel in my spirit.

My hope is in you, therefore you WILL renew my strength.

I will mount on wings like eagles.

I will run and not be weary.

I will walk and not be faint.