Not Faking It No More

52 Week Project 2012 ~ 15/52
This picture has significant meaning to me, 
but I've chosen not to explain it here.
I hope that you all can still appreciate it for what it is
& how it touches your hearts.

"From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I." ~ Psalm 61:2

This has been a really hard week for my family. Grief brings many strong emotions, unanswered questions, and tears. We know that we need not grieve like those who have no hope, but hope doesn't always answer the questions. Many times throughout this week, I've felt the sustaining power of hope in the course of the day and the long, restless nights. This hope is able to comfort our aching souls in the midst of a painful loss, however, I've found that the anguish I feel still remains.

How quickly we forget that even those who have faith in the God of all comfort can experience intense emotional pain. This week reminded me of that for sure. I've asked God lots of questions; I've been open and honest with how overwhelmed I've felt by the shock; I've sobbed spontaneously on more than one, two, or three occasions. I cannot tell you that I have it all together, or that I feel complete peace in my heart. Chaos and confusion surround me. Doubt and disbelief fille my thoughts. My emotions certainly do not seem to logically reflect my faith. . . and honestly, that bothers me.

Even in knowing the truth of God's word, of his unfailing love, grief has the unmatched ability to cloud my understanding or experience of what I know in my head to be true. I don't get how grief can do that so effectively. I haven't taken a class on death, grief, and dying yet, though I plan to at some point for my minor. Maybe then I'll be able to explain the powerful effects of grief. But for now, all I know is my experience of it.

I've been tempted to criticize myself for not having a "strong enough" faith, evidenced by my intense anguish I've felt recently over a tragic loss in our family. But criticism doesn't seem right either. During those times, I try remind myself of the account of when Jesus was in the garden on the Mount of Olives the night before his cruxificion. After Jesus prays his prayer, "...not my will, but yours be done" Luke writes in chapter 22 that "an angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground" (v. 42-44).

The thing that I love the most about these few verses is that even after the angel came and strengthened Jesus, he was still in anguish. Jesus--God incarnate--was in anguish. I can only imagine that Jesus must have been grieving over his own death before it came to pass, although that probably only begins to scratch the surface of the mix of emotions that he must've felt that night.

There's no doubt that my hope is in the Lord my God, who strengthens me in my weakness, hears me when I call, and knows each tear that falls from my face---I know this to be true---yet, grief and anguish have consumed much of my energy this past week. My heart is still not yet at ease, but I've felt God's presence in the midst of that. He has handled me and the hot mess that I am very well. Surely if Jesus could express his anguish even after being divinely strengthened, he must understand.

So I'm not going to fake that I'm okay. I'm still confused and hurt, but I think that God needs our hurt and pain. He probably wants us to give it to him because after all, Jesus died to take on all the sins of the world, and isn't sin at the root of any hurt or pain we experience? Hiding our pain from him or just trying to stuff it down and ignore it doesn't do anyone any good. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be feeling the things that I feel, but seriously, when it comes down it, God already knows us more than we know ourselves, so expressing our feelings to Him isn't going to come as a shock. His love for us is unconditional. By taking that in, we can all let out a big sigh of relief!

We are not commanded or expected to "have it all together" or know all the "right" answers or be "completely sure" of every aspect of our faith. God's grace is sufficient, even in our weakness, in our confusion, and in our doubts. His love is unfailing even when we don't understand the how or the why.

"I spread out my hands to you;

my soul thirsts for you like a 

parched land."

~ Psalm 143:6

"We wait in hope for the Lord; 

           he is our help and our shield. 

In him our hearts rejoice, 

          for we trust in his holy name. 

May your unfailing love rest upon us, 

O LORD, even as we put our hope in you."
~ Psalm 33:20-22

Where I was about a year ago: The Awakening

I wanted to share with you an essay that I wrote over a year ago for my 12th grade AP English class, so you can get an idea of where I'm coming from. It is dated November 23, 2009.

A lot has changed since then. Now we have a somewhat conclusive diagnosis of Lyme disease. However, a lot has stayed the same.

It's best if you just read it.


The Awakening

As I awoke with another piercing migraine this morning, discouraging thoughts went racing through my head. I wondered if the pain would ever cease; if all the intercessory prayers, along with my own, would ever receive an affirmative response; if I would ever be able to enjoy my senior year of high school; if I would ever be on top again. Though my head was pounding, I arose from my warm and comfortable, queen-sized bed with a sigh, in order to arrive at yet another doctor’s appointment where I would undergo yet another diagnostic test. The fun just never ends.

This is a typical morning in the life of Elisabeth Edelman—a seventeen year old, chronic migraine sufferer. She has faced abounding disappointments, tainting every area of her life. Elisabeth’s view of hope is now as an unreachable, theoretical concept held captive behind a wall of suffering and despair that is built upon a firm foundation of unfortunate circumstances. Her passions and desires are suppressed by the burdens of the present, and the future is uncertain. Once uncertainty and disappointment merge, discouragement accelerates.

As my mom ignored multiple speed limit signs while driving me to my appointment, I reflected on what had taken place the previous night. Being blindsided in a conversation with my director, I was informed that my spot in a prestigious performance group was questionable. Though I was shocked, I knew my health dictated the action. If I ever thought that my life was hard enough, a curve ball would hit me, thus, convincing me otherwise. In that moment, quiet tears of sadness streamed down my face, being replenished by an overwhelming sense of helplessness. I could do nothing to change the situation.

The performing arts give Elisabeth an outlet to express herself. They are therapeutic in distracting her from the constant, searing pain. The stage is also a place where Elisabeth can do what she does best—act as if she is not suffering. It provides Elisabeth with a mask that she can wear in addition to the armor of courage and stoicism she must put on everyday. While authenticity is adulterated when masks are worn off stage, masks are expected and required to be worn on stage. However, if Elisabeth’s stage mask were torn off, it would expose a young girl with a wounded spirit and hinder her expression of passion.

After returning home, taking medication, and resting my eyes in hope of relieving some pain, I craved a taste of the outside world, so I checked my e-mail. With little expectation that any message in my inbox could lift my heavy-laden spirit, I was pleasantly surprised by what I assumed would be just another pestering college reminder. It contained an encouraging quote that Abigail Adams had written in a letter to her son, John Quincy, “The habits of a vigorous mind are formed in contending with difficulties. Great necessities call out great virtues. When a mind is raised, and animated by the scenes that engage the heart, then those qualities which would otherwise lay dormant, wake into life and form the character of the hero and the statesman.” I was not quite sure how it happened, but when I finished reading that powerful quote, my anxious thoughts were silenced.

As Elisabeth sits back in her chair, something awakes inside her. Her hope has broken through the wall of suffering and despair, illuminating the foundation of unfortunate circumstances. Her competitive nature has been refreshed, and she can now mentally prepare herself for battle against the opposition that currently wages war upon her entire being. Hope has transformed darkness into the light that guides Elisabeth through the despair of her present trial. Though she is in a season of grief, she knows that her pain is temporary while her hope is eternal.

I prayed the night before that God would remind me of what is essential in life, and He answered my prayer by restoring the hope that I had lost. Being caught in a storm of my own, I had lost sight of the blessings that have been bestowed upon me. I often pitied myself, and it consumed me. However, when I read Abigail Adams quote, I was inspired. I was reminded that my heart and mind are formed by the challenges I must face; without overcoming these obstacles, a crucial part of me remains dormant. Hope awakened my desire to endure this temporary pain in order that I may pursue my passions and live a joyous life again. I could lose everything, but if I have hope, I know I will be victorious.

Hope is the distinguishing factor separating despair and perseverance, and it is often found unexpectedly amidst struggle and hardship. Though at times it may seem as if hope has been captured by the high walls of despair, with a little faith and perseverance, hope can conquer those walls, take hold of passion and, thus, illuminate darkness. Character has the opportunity to develop the most when it is tested through the darkest trial; yet no light is too small for perseverance to be ignited, hope to be restored, and passion to be renewed. Ultimately, victory is won in the light.