During the hardest times of my life, I had trouble consistently reading the Bible and connecting with God.
Have you ever felt that way?
Even though I was a Christian and wanted to honor the Lord with my life, which included being faithful in daily prayer and Bible reading, I found myself feeling distant from God. Whenever brain fog from Lyme Disease and co-infections would come on strongly, I would be faced with a block in my mind. That mental block left me unable to pray or comprehend scripture in the way I desired.
I just didn’t feel connected to God anymore.
In Finding Hope with the Fog (get your copy – it’s free!), I share about the way God met me in one of my weakest moments when I was having a panic attack. He used the Psalms to remind me of how good He is. He showed me that I can always turn to Him in troubled times even if I can’t always feel His presence.
Reading the Psalms is something I now do regularly because I can connect to the emotions of the Psalmists and am always reminded of the bigger picture in our suffering.
It may feel as if God is distant and He doesn’t hear our cries of suffering, but that’s not true. God knows. He loves us and He will respond and be our place of refuge!
It’s Thanksgiving morning.
I’m sitting alone in my apartment.
I’m propped up in bed with a heating pad on my back and my Bible and journal sitting to my left. Multiple blankets cover the lower half of my body and my laptop sits atop them as I type.
I wasn’t planning to write on the blog today. I opened my journal to begin pouring out some thoughts, but after some prayer and scripture reading I felt like I needed to get this into a blog post. So, here I am. Raw and real.
Being Thanksgiving and all, I know that I should be reflecting on what I’m thankful for right now. So, I’m thinking through some things – a lot of things.
I truly am thankful for the way God has worked in my life. He has provided during some of my weakest times.
I know God is good. I really do. But, at the same time I often find my mind dwelling on all that’s wrong in my life right now. I’m grieving the loss of how I thought my life would look.
I’d like to write a blog post telling you about how great I feel now that I have been on treatment for about two months. I’d like to tell you how happy I am and how I feel confident everyday. I’d like to tell you a lot of things.
But, the sad truth is that life is still pretty rough and it likely will be for a while.
Yes, I have had some good days interspersed amongst the bad, painful, horrendous days.
Those good days make me smile. When things are good, I have energy and I feel more like myself. It’s delightful!
But, the bad days still leave me hurting. They leave me questioning. They leave me suffering.
My prayer life has been changing since my health took a decline back in February. During some points of this health journey, I couldn’t pray. I didn’t feel like God was there. I could barely process a thought, let alone speak words in prayer.
Now, though, God has been meeting me. It’s amazing, actually. I always knew I could go to God during hard times and he would be there, but I had never been to a point of sheer desperation like this before. Now, I literally need God’s strength to get me through the day.
In Part 1 of What To Do When You’re Having an Identity Crisis, I described being at my breaking point and feeling insecure as I struggled to figure out who I was.
God worked in my heart to show me that I didn’t need to have all the answers. As a child of God, my identity is rooted in who He is, not in what I do or what I like. Because I follow Christ, the insecurity knocking at my door can be defeated. Even when I’m struggling, God promises that I can cast all my anxiety on Him because he cares for me (1 Peter 5:7).
I talk about following Christ, but what does this actually mean?
I remember the day fairly clearly despite the fact that I had been living in a continual state of fog for months.
“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” I said as I moved a stack of posters and made myself comfortable in the chair across from my coworker’s desk.
I had gone to her office for a quick work-related question, but then lingered. I was standing there chatting before deciding that if I was going to be there awhile, I had better take a seat before my legs gave out. I was at a breaking point and longed for someone to understand what I was going through.