I Surrender

"Go to seminary," they said.

"It'll be great," they said.

There's not a doubt in my mind that it will be, but it's also going to be hard--so hard…

I hadn't thought much about what the actual experience of sitting in a seminary class and doing the work was going to be like. I've done a bit of emotional maturing since the last time I graced a lecture hall with my presence--usually for about 25 minutes before being swept out of the room by a panic attack. Panic attacks are funny like that. Just when you think you're going to be okay and breeze through a potentially difficult situation unscathed, they like to attack you (they're so aptly named!), and all kinds of terrors you'd previously tucked away to rest take a joyride through your head, mostly with thoughts like, "we're right back where we were three years ago, nothing's worked" or "what am I even doing here? I have no freaking idea." or "I can't be a contributing member of this community or society if I can't even sit still like any normal human being and pay attention without my mind tricking me into thinking I'm going to drop dead suddenly sitting still in a lecture hall and my body spazzing out like I'm a hyperactive five-year-old who's just inhaled a whole package of Skittles."

I know that those are all lies, but good luck trying to get me to remember that in the middle of an attack when everything my body is thinking and doing is telling me "no, the panic is in charge, you have absolutely no agency here."

Today is world suicide prevention day.

I don't even know how to verbalize the sentiments of fear and gratitude that wash over me in a clear state of mind: if I hadn't have met Jesus, if God hadn't have found me in the sick, twisted state I was in and shown me a little tiny light in the black hole where I was trapped, how long would I have put up with existing as a shadow of the human being that I could be if my brain would just work properly? How much hurt and rejection and fear would it have taken before thinking and feeling nothing became the preferable option?

It's scary. I don't like to think about it.

But that's not the way it is. The recovery period from every panic attack is an emotionally-charged reminder of how, geez, even if God doesn't exist, I sure need something to store hope in right now, because I sure wouldn't have any confidence in myself in an emergency…

I'm confident that this "yes" to seminary was the right "yes". I know that he has come around me on all sides and isn't going anywhere. Jesus promises quite the opposite of sunshine and butterflies in exchange for following his lead.

So last night at 2 in the morning after several hours of emotional turmoil, I got down on my knees with open hands and said something like "I can't do this. This is all you, Jesus. This is all you. I know that you've blessed me into this, even though right now it feels like absolute crap, so just have your way."

"…I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong." -2 Cor 12:8-10

It'll be good.