Let me assure you, my first instinct is never to allow a candid photo of myself. In fact, I do everything in my power to destroy any evidence that a smile isn’t permanently glued to my face or my hair isn’t always perfect. Call it vanity, but candid photos always seem to capture the things you hate the most about your appearance. I would have never imagined that I would post a picture like this anywhere for the world to see, but here it is, and here is why:
Anxiety defeats you. It swells your eyes so tight that you can’t imagine they’ll ever open again. In all honesty, you’re okay if they don’t. Anxiety is already an internal war between your mind and your body, but for a Christian, your heart gets tossed around, too. I know relationships are hard. What I don’t always understand is how necessary hard is for growth to occur. Did I want to have a panic attack over something so small? No. Did I want to burden my mom with yet another circumstance that makes her feel helpless? Absolutely not. Did I have a choice? Unfortunately, no. What I did want, though, was for God to intervene in a way that gave me peace. Prior to this picture, I pleaded with ugly tears and a desperate volume for Him to tell me what to do. I wanted a way out of the racing heart and sickness swarming in my stomach. I couldn’t feel Him. I really, truly, couldn’t find God where I was. Maybe it was the physical symptoms of anxiety; or maybe it was the lack of surrender that I’ve carried around with pride, calling it “I’ve got this.” Regardless, this picture is the sincere sadness that comes when things are so immeasurably hard and you desperately want God but struggle to find Him. This picture is exhaustion, heartache, grace, and love. This picture is how God found me. He put a beating heart within arms reach that I could rest my head-on. He gave me a warmth that fought the panicky shakes, and allowed deep breathes to fill my lungs. He brought me a prayer from someone else’s lips that could speak to Him for me when my sobs couldn’t form words. God found me. He didn’t take the anxiety away. He didn’t cure the illness. He didn’t give me an answer. But when I finally said, “Lord, you can have it. I don’t want it anymore,” He whispered, “beloved” to us both.
Sadness comes with hard, but so does Jesus. So does the man who says:
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
JOHN 15:5
anxiousness does blur the lines of grace
O Lord, please make it clear.
Syd
For a Heart as Beautiful as Yours 