Afflicted but not Crushed

Much like the tide, the waves of affliction rise and wash over me. I go through periods of general good health–like a placid sea–and I rejoice wholeheartedly. But then the wind kicks up, and suddenly I’m standing at the helm with a salt-encrusted face, and cracked and bleeding lips–waiting for the blast to subside. The only thing good about this scenario is that I am learning how to be a better navigator. Like a storm tested sailor, I am learning how best to respond when faced with certain drowning.

I used to believe that ill health was my fault. After all, it usually came after I had consumed toxic sugar or high fat foods. I know those things are not good for me and therefore blame myself when I consume them and then get sick. But I can’t be “perfect” all the time. No one can. So why is it so hard to forgive myself when the affliction comes? Blame and guilt and shame are like battering rams breaking down all my hard fought for gains. So, not only does my body feel bad, but my conscience is marred as well.

Recently I have been managing pestilence in the form of anxiety. When I share this with people they usually ask, “So what are you anxious about?” To which I reply, nothing much in particular. It’s just my body that’s anxious. I get nervous tremors or experience nightmares. I feel like my heart is in a race with my mind. These symptoms come even when I’m doing all the supposedly right things. It would be so easy to succumb to bitterness or rage. But I choose not to follow that path because the destination is decidedly dark.

Lately all the good thoughts within me have shriveled up. All the songs that usually come to mind when my body is happy, scatter like scurrying beetles. I struggle to remember Bible verses that comfort me and even to comprehend the things I read. My body refuses to respond to exercise and I find the only weapon left in my arsenal is rest. But even in rest I find myself rushed. As if I could somehow rest faster in order to get back to living life on my terms.

I laid in the bathtub yesterday and forced myself to be calm. I closed my eyes and willed my busy thoughts to cease. I emptied my brain and laid there, hoping the pain in my back would subside. All of my muscles were so twisted with stress that my spine gave out. If you have ever had an aching back, you will know how debilitating it is. And in the stillness I found still more anxiety. I found that I couldn’t stop my brain for longer than a few minutes. The emptiness inside swelled and I found myself gasping for beauty, for music, for words. Even in rest I found my heart racing and my brain misfiring. Sometimes it seems that no matter how hard I try, I cannot fix myself. And honestly, it feels like no one can.

It’s not a matter of more or better medicine.

No amount of rest restores my peace.

No friend can hug away the suffering.

And so all that is left for me to do is bear up beneath the weight of it and wait. And hope that maybe tomorrow or next week the pain will go back out with the thundering tide.

Today I am giving myself leave to wait. I am giving myself the grace to know that today will not last forever. In that regard I am also giving myself the gift of hope. I feel the cold sea water pulling me down, but hope is buoyant. Hope is the steadfast anchor for my soul. You see, even when my body is bewildered and frail, I know the things that are true. These truths are more powerful than all my measly efforts. And they comfort me. So today I am sharing a most precious truth with you, dear reader. Because storms will come. Waves will roll. And sometimes our fragile brains simply forget. And isn’t it nice to have a little reminder of the One who sees our suffering and made a way for us to conquer through it?

Isaiah 53

Who has believed what he has heard from us?
And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
For he grew up before him like a young plant,
and like a root out of dry ground;
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
and no beauty that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
yet he opened not his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.
By oppression and judgment he was taken away;
and as for his generation, who considered
that he was cut off out of the land of the living,
stricken for the transgression of my people?
And they made his grave with the wicked
and with a rich man in his death,
although he had done no violence,
and there was no deceit in his mouth.
Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days;
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.
Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied;
by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant,
make many to be accounted righteous,
and he shall bear their iniquities.
Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many,
and he shall divide the spoil with the strong,
because he poured out his soul to death
and was numbered with the transgressors;
yet he bore the sin of many,
and makes intercession for the transgressors.