I’ve listened to many sermons of people that have seen Jesus face to face. Some have died, and come back to life, others have seen Him in visions. The first thing they always mention is the depth of love in his eyes. Like you could get lost in the pool of wonder and amazement just by staring into his eyes.
We show a lot of emotion through just our eyes, don’t we? Our eyes show if we are happy or sad, or have just finished wiping away our tears. Our eyes can smile, and make gestures the hands cannot. When we are mad, our eyes show it.
When we are grieving, our eyes show the pain.
A close friend of mine shared a picture on Facebook that was a memory from two years ago. It was right after Adah was born, and I was in the thick of depression and anxiety attacks. As soon as I clicked on the picture, I was taken back to the hardest time of my life. The beginning of hell as I knew it on earth. I was trapped in my own body, unable to breathe. Literally, I couldn’t breathe well about 80 percent of my days. My body was crying out for help, and all the while I kept letting myself drown. Treading water in the pool I built of the life I wanted, then it failed my expectations.
Farther and farther I went until I decided that the healing I needed came from Jesus in the form of medication. Paxil to be exact.
The scarring from my emergency C section was healing , but my anger from my failed home birth was heating every fire I lit in the name of justice and grief. I had no connection with my newborn baby, and without the physical bond of breastfeeding I wouldn’t have survived getting to know her her first year.
When you are in that spot , it’s easy to believe that you are the only one that feels that way. Satan loves to get you in a corner and harass you into you are on your knees begging for life instead of death.
Getting back to life wasn’t easy for me. I fought tooth and nail and many more nails just to breathe every few seconds. My friend in the picture above was at my beck and call via text daily. Making sure I was okay, making sure I was eating. Breathing. Sleeping. If it wasn’t for her in my life , I’m not sure how I would have made it through. She is a dear, dear friend who didn’t have to be my mental nurse, but she was. She’s the most selfless person I know. I would text her at the beginning of a panic attack, and she would pray until it lifted. God knew I needed her, I needed support. Big time.
Last week I had the privilege to pray over a woman that is in the thick of anxiety attacks. She has been struggling for years, and just like me she tried everything natural she could get her hands on. She was asking me how as a Christian woman, how I felt about taking modern medicine.
I stood there , and I paused. The fact is that I am not a huge fan of modern medicine as a whole. I think a lot of things can be healed using diet restrictions and essential oils. I disliked modern medicine so much that in the beginning of my medication days, the Lord asked me to do something out of obedience to him, and submission to my body.
Every morning with my coffee , I would take the Paxil and he asked me to say this:
” Thank you Paxil for being just what my body needs in this season of my life. Thank you for healing me.”
THIS SOUNDS BIZARRE RIGHT?
He was teaching me that his healing comes in all shapes and forms. Apart of my healing meant that I got a serious dose of humility on the side. My pride was broken for all things natural, ALL THE TIME, and guess what? My body started not hating itself so much.
I got my life back. My joy back. My spunk.
I am writing this all down to say that if you are on the fence, looking forward and backward and you feel God has given you a plan for the next season of your life.. just get off the fence.
It’s ok to run to the next thing he has for you. Running is good. Running shows your willingness to OBEY.
Little did I know I would be obeying Him by putting chemicals into my body. There I said it. Crunchy me.
I’m not ashamed of my medication anymore. It’s helping me be a better Mother, wife and child of God. It also calms my crazy most days.
The other days it doesn’t calm it, we call those PMS days. Ain’t nothin’ touchin’ them days y’all.
