Just going to trust the Lord. And if I have to remember that, consciously, and state it aloud continually as part of the process, from here until departing this mortal frame...so be it, if that's what it takes. Because anxiety gets so loud, trying to usurp acknowledgement of who God is. He rules. Literally. He presides. He is sovereign, all-powerful, majestic Creator and Sustainer of the entirety of all which is. My Jesus is to be feared and worshipped. And He is good. And He loves me. And He keeps me. And He is faithful to keep me, to direct me, to deliver me, and to instruct me. He gives me what I need, even when what I need is to lack comfort and wellness and other things which I want, just so as to be drawn nearer to Him. Howsoever goes.
He knows my needs better than I do. Period. And I trust Him.
I'm scared and confused and feeling so many things that utterly terrify me, quite frankly. But He knows every bit of it and I trust Him. And that's that.
So although I fear, I will continue to trust in Him and will trust Him to silence my fears. I do believe, and I trust Him to help my unbelief what lingers as to allow room for anxieties and doubts to gain any foothold.
For a moment tonight, though, on the way home...He allowed me to realize how much differently the same fears of a year ago sit, now. There's a security in Him and a knowledge of Him which is louder than those fears, by a much greater margin now. It's not that fears aren't still attempting to completely overwhelm, but He's let me live in situations where I've been utterly overwhelmed, utterly overcome, absolutely incapable, completely devastated, totally terrified, and despondent...again and again, to increasing degree of severity, for the past three years. And each time surrendering the fears, the abject incapacitation, the utter incapabilities, and sheer lack of strength, heart, will, and mind to even so much as move (out of bed, to work, to whatever)...each time, He's lifted my head ever so tenderly and led me so very gently forward. So very gently done. Even without my then-present realization of ever beginning to move, to act, to speak, to go forward. Yet, He has done it. Again and again. And is doing it now.
So these fears: All the vast dark world pressing in from all sides, and all the strangeness yet within and from without seeking hold to gain rule over my heart, and the grief of witnessing such brokenness in the world, and the terror of realizing depravity and delusions abounding (even amplified to realize myself once thusly enthralled, alongside)...
...and it is all utterly and completely and totally incapacitating. But He's walked me through incapacitation so often (like...every day since I've known Him, to varying degrees of awareness of the severity of my condition as sin-sickened human, yet forgiven, serving God in a broken, hostile world)...it's not as large. In comparison to Him, I mean. In comparison to me...it's still like an ant staring down Saturn. But the One in whom all things consist holds me. He's much bigger, much stronger, much more capable, and He's perfectly good, and He loves me. Unflinchingly. Unfailingly. Unfalteringly. Eternally. So I'm safe. Whatever "gets through" to me is only because He's allowed it to do so for particular reasons which are good.
And in the midst of looking at some of what may come, in terms of ongoing heartbreak and devastation...then, still: I trust Him and I will trust Him. He gives me strength to do so. He has given me ability to do so, by revealing Himself faithful and good and loving and kind. He has given me desire to do so, by continually changing my heart.
So, that's enough. Though I may despair of life again, for the depths of pain...again and again these past few years, He's shown me that in those moments He carries me. Because I can't even move at those points. He's carrying me now, or I wouldn't be able to praise Him. He is so kind to greet me in the mornings, lift my head all the day, and speak peace to my spirit in the midst of utter turmoil and grief. I love Christ beyond words. He is my reason for living. I don't want to live, except for loving Him.
I despaired of that reality, the first while of finding such peace and hope and love and purpose in Him. Thinking it must not be good to be so dependent on Him for the will to live. Thinking at some point, He'd step back and let me fall flat on my face without sustaining me with His Presence as to continue affording the desire to live, outright. I was so afraid He would let me fall, because it was necessary to find my own strength and will to live. Because I thought it surely must be an expectation that I needed to attain to a position of self-sufficiency and not rely on Him for absolutely everything in order just to function with a bare semblance of normalcy. The depths of my despair and despondency are so great, except that He satisfies each with fulfillment, joy, peace, and love in Himself. But I used to think He wouldn't want me to be so dependent on Him.
I'm glad I was wrong. Because the more I've come to know Him, find strength in Him, and depend upon Him, the more I've come to need Him and be dependent upon Him for even far more than I'd conceived as being my need. So if He weren't faithful, if He weren't good, if He weren't loving, if He weren't long-suffering, patient, and kind toward me...I would be and would have been utterly destroyed so many times over, already, again. Only crushed beyond anything I'd ever previously known. Because the depth of devastation seems always to deepen with the depth of trust, the depth of love, the depth of hope, the extent of belief. And the more I've come to know Him, the more I've come to trust, love, hope in, and believe in Him. So that everything I am is wrapped up in Him, in trusting, loving, hoping, and believing in and upon Him. No one else is capable of even remotely approaching ability to provide for these needs. Christ, alone.
That is what scares me so much of people, is the tendency to begin to trust, love, hope, and depend upon others to apparent degrees. And I don't know what is right and what isn't--I don't have good examples, and I don't understand what I read in Scripture of how these things work. Or maybe it's all always broken, given the "bear with one another in love." I don't know. And it scares me. I don't want to compromise anything of my relationship with Jesus, at all. Period. But I don't know how to be close to others, either.
He will help. I know He will. Because He loves me. And because He doesn't intend for me to live in isolation. Apparently. Surprisingly.
So, I'm scared. But I trust Him. And I will trust Him. And...that's all.
And now...I'm exhausted. A few more minutes awake with Him, then sleep.
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