Anxiety

"In the sickness of his agony, the will of Jesus arises

perfect at last and of itself, unsupported now, declares--

a naked consciousness of misery hung in the waste

darkness of the universe--declares for God, in defiance

of pain, of death, of apathy, of self, of negation, of 

the blackness within and around it; calls aloud upon 

the vanished God."

George Macdonald

These words always chill me. I once had an experience, while deeply, clinically depressed of laying in an empty church chapel and crying out to God that I would be able to feel anything, even pain, because the depression had left me bereft of feeling. I cried out, I cried; nothing. I felt absolutely abandoned. The difference between my hour of great grief and his is that Jesus was truly forsaken by the Living God while I had his Spirit living inside of me and just couldn't "feel" him in that moment because my brain is a little screwy.

Currently, I'm sit-laying in my bed, surrounded by a dozen books that I've already read but bring me comfort in my anxiety. On a surprising and hopeful note: I left my room to go downstairs to the kitchen right off my room to get the dinner my dad made me. It lies uneaten, but still a victory in my book.

What is not a victory is that I practically live in my bed in PJs due to my anxiety. I'm not kidding. I rarely leave my house or change into normal people clothes. Only Starbucks and alcohol/dancing/psychic escapism get me to leave, occasionally a health appointment like a PET scan, but that's it.

Tonight was one of my best friend's birthday's about 40 minutes away in Norfolk. I had tried to drive to see her earlier in the week on her actual birthday to give her her gift but touched my car door handle and immediately walked inside, defeated. 'Maybe this night will be different,' I thought. Nope. I sunk deeper into my bed beneath the books that I've read a thousand times. Beneath caffeine, klonopin, and adderall: my crutches. I stare at the beautifully wrapped gift (I am an Enneagram 4, you know ;)) and am deeply saddened by my inability to celebrate my friend. But, on a deeper level, that my mental illnesses has won the day again. I thought Bipolar I, psychosis, and PTSD were enough to keep me busy for a lifetime, but throw in anxiety and it's a strikeout.

Karl Barth writes, "We must realize that all the paths of life upon which we walk are the same...in that they all lead to the edge of the precipice, We cannot bridge this precipice but its bridging has been made manifest in the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. Who would partake of the resurrection must first have seen this chasm, have discovered the pit. And life is not easy; on the contrary, it becomes deadly earnest and difficult whenever the word 'resurrection' resounds. Resurrection proclaims true freedom to us and lets us painfully discovery our personal chains [something I am thankful to all my health issues for] It tells us that the one and only refuge is God." Threatened By Resurrection.

In concert, but slightly less morbid, German theologian (and my favorite theologian-I would recommend his book The Crucified God) Jurgen Moltmann writes, "Is there an answer to the question why God forsook him [Christ]? Is there any answer to the agonizing questionings of disappointment and death: 'My God, Why? Why...?' A real answer to this question cannot be a theoretical answer beginning with the word 'Because.' It has to be a practical answer. An experience of this kind can only be answered by another experience, not by an explanation. A reality like this can be answered only by another reality. It is the answer of resurrection...Our disappointments, our loneliness, and our defeats do not separate us from him; they draw us more deeply into communion with him. And with the final unanswered question, 'Why, my God, why?' we join in his death cry and await with him the resurrection." Prisoner of Hope 

I may be paralyzed beyond rationality by some part of my brain going wonky (maybe it's the PTSD?), but I certainly can worship, pray to, and lean on God right from the edge of the precipice-my bed. 

Anxiety for no reason is not fun and is especially frustrating due to the lack of origin to blame it on. I truly am sorry if any of this applies to you.

But I find my only hope in the Lord Jesus Christ, and I pray you could, too.

"Christ has died.

Christ is risen.

Christ will come again."