My head is swimming.
Do you ever have that happen? A day when everything that should be easy and normative and regulated just seems to pile up until you can’t really breathe? Until the phone rings and you’re unintentionally rude to the person on the other end? Until you know that the best thing to do would be to sit down, put on your sweat pants and just have a solid cry?
That’s today for me.
I’m overwhelmed. I started grieving-really grieving-my Race on Tuesday in a very abrupt and uncharacteristic public meltdown. I’ve been pushing myself towards this to do list:
Do everything perfectly.
Make no mistakes.
Don’t break. Don’t need. Above all, don’t talk too much.
Silence is my sidekick this week.
I found myself tongue tied when asked to speak about myself in the initial introduction, hesitant to share my history, my thoughts or my past. After every word there was this solid attack:
Why are you speaking? No one wants to hear what you have to say.
In class, when asked to give a public demonstration of honor, the only thing my soul wanted was to sing out to my Love, my King, my LORD. To honor Him with my voice. This Phil Whickam song played in my head and my heart pounded with it, my lips opened to begin but silence choked me and I stopped. I sat back, apart from the group, unwilling and afraid.
I will never remember those lyrics again. I know it.
But the lie I heard was
You are unaccepted. You are the outsider. You are unworthy. Your voice is unneeded. Be silent. Be Silent. BE SILENT.
And in silence I sat.
Last night I went to worship and prayed ferociously against the silence, against the fear that is my own homemade cage. And somewhere I found the words to sing out my own song, maybe not harmoniously with the song at hand, but in desperation.
I’m living a life of quiet desperation right now.
I’m desperate for more Jesus. For more healing. For more community. For more love to pour out on His Bride. For more authenticity. For more courage to be vulnerable. For more of this abundant life He’s giving me.
I’m desperate for the chains of silence to be broken. For the lies I’ve partnered with to be dissolved.
So chains, be broken, in Jesus’ name. I don’t have time to waste on you. I have a healing heart to see to and a vulnerable community to pour life into. I have a job to do and you WILL NOT steal me from it. You WILL NOT steal my joy or my truth or my love. YOU WILL NOT KEEP ME SILENT. YOU CANNOT HAVE MY WORDS. Just try. This is my “C’mon I dare you.” I haven’t been in a fight in years, but I’m ready to throw a punch.