A Labyrinthine Journey: Soon Coming in 3-D

The other night I was up really late after trying to cough up my lungs (or at least that is how it felt) while struggling with my fall head cold. While up trying to settle my breathing down to return to bed, I flipped on the television and found Bill Nye the Science Guy. I am still too much of a geek; I love that show. The topic? Newton’s law of inertia: a body at rest stays at rest (or a body in motion stays in motion) until acted upon by an outside force.

I’m stuck in spiritual inertial pause right now.

I can name some of the forces that have stopped my inner motion: the physical affects of this bad cold, fatigue from possible sleep apnea (I have to say possible because we know I have apnea, Linda observes it regularly, but my sleep study a couple weeks ago didn’t show any–primarily because I didn’t sleep), and the ongoing affect of both depression and the anti-depressants; there have been many people trying to force my ministry direction but not in helpful ways or counter to the direction I keep trying to get myself going.

Every once in a while I try to get myself started. I try to grab onto some task or project that I will break the inertial pause. Yet other than a quiver of brief movement, things end up returning to the same place but only now I am frustrated and self-judgmental (which reinforces the failure voice of the depression). Then I give up. It’s too hard. I can’t do it. Maybe I never could and never can. Why don’t I just give up the illusion. That at least temporarily deadens the frustration.

But then I wake up and tell myself the Depression Sucks and I really don’t want this to be my life. Yet, what am I to do.

Thanks be to God,  that usually whenever I wake up to that thought, I also remember that I am not an outside force, I am the one needing to be moved. And even another person, while outside of myself, is not outside enough to really break the bonds of failure and weakness that hold me here.

In that “doh” moment I remember God.

The Beloved who is just waiting. Waiting for me to stop being so absorbed in my own little frustrations to reach out for real help. Waiting for me to realize I have tripped over my own toys and need a hand to get up. Waiting for me to realize that I need to clean up those toys and put away all those distractions and let go of all those attachments so I have a place to go when I am moved. Waiting for me to remember that spending time together helps me to let go of all those forces that stop me.

Now I must become the one waiting. Waiting with hands unclenched for the firm push of grace. Waiting without knowing which direction love will choose. Waiting knowing that healing does not come on my terms, but always with love. Waiting with anticipation that God is already moving my life.