Lost in the Wilderness (Part 2)

Almost three months have passed since my first “homework assignment” under Ryan's counsel. I thought including my initial failed attempt might be an interesting way to begin today's writing. Little did I know that day what my wilderness, my exile, would soon look like. But here we are.

I finally found enough focus to read Hebrews 11 this morning. I'm betting you're familiar with it, at least the ESV version. Here's part of what's in The Message:

The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It's our handle on what we can't see. By faith, we see the world called into existence by God's word, what we see created by what we don't see.

By an act of faith, Abel brought a better sacrifice to God than Cain. It was what he believed, not what he brought, that made the difference. That's what God noticed and approved as righteous. It's impossible to please God apart from faith. And why? Because anyone who wants to approach God must believe both that he exists and that he cares enough to respond to those who seek him.

 I'm so clear on the “exists” part. It's the “cares” part that keeps getting all tangled up. Because I, like this great cloud of witnesses, can't see, can't control, can't understand. They got through it. By trusting, by faith, by believing that what looked like an out-of-control disaster was actually God's plan.

That section in “Christ Plays” on God and his absence/silence being a normal part of the human experience was very helpful. I'm not quite sure what to do with it yet. Because, in all honesty, this separation is proving way worse than even I had managed to imagine. It's so much more than just not sleeping under your roof anymore. Or being underfoot all the time. Or being able to voice an inspiration before it skitters away and I lose my grasp on it. Now the silence is everywhere.

Trust. That's what it all comes down to, right? And I do trust you guys. Honestly. The circumstances simply spun so completely out of our control, so fast, that I totally freaked out. I say that like it's in the past, but it's really not. Marilyn, I told you last week that that is my fundamental struggle right now. I can't figure out how to trust when it feels like the rules (or circumstances) keep changing.

So although the trust thing is key, I'm finding that I have to work on the anger thing first. Because I am angry, mostly at myself (for breaking all my own rules and letting my guard down – it was supposed to be a good thing, and then it felt like it just made things worse), and at God (because if he's not at the heart all this, then we're all wasting our time.)

Forgiveness. Believing God can actually forgive me for all my stupidity. That I have some worth in his eyes, and not just yours. Putting this whole disaster in his hands and resting, trusting that he won't just find some way to work it out, but has had it planned out all along. That's a lot of stuff to work through, especially now that I'm not sure when I have access to the wonderful people who have been helping me on that journey.

It's really hard to even tackle any of this spiritual stuff, because my body feels so awful. So you're aware, today I did start trying to go back on the Zoloft, that same low dose I tried back in December. I'll just have to see how it goes. And my weight is so low now that I am struggling with everything. Karen was kind enough to cook some meals and freeze them for me, and I am genuinely trying to 'eat through the pain.' But I have still only slept through the night once since I've been here, and it is starting to severely cloud my judgment.

And when my focus starts to get all scattered and I can't read or think, I unfortunately relearned the trick that a beer actually helps. But I'm doing that too often, and I have to stop doing it alone, because sometimes I can't seem to stop. You both know how much I hate admitting that kind of stupidity, but I need you to know that it's happening. I need accountability, because my own personal accountability has been sucking. I can't keep it in the house. It's just too easy to fall into the trap.

It's so hard to see this (almost literal) “exile” not as punishment, but as restoration. I long for this shalom you speak of. I long to know what wholeness feels like. I need to keep talking. I still need my family and my counselors. Thank you for continuing to forgive my failings. Please continue to include me in your lives. I need Jesus, and I feel so alone.

In the words of a famous sticky note that sits in the front page of my Bible...
I'm sorry.
I love you.
I want you to walk through this with me.
Please pray for me.

Jeni