Panic

Last night, panic attacked big time. I was tossed about by big, mean waves of doubt and strong winds of unknowing. I was not getting anywhere with my final paper for the Bible Study Methods class. I tried to talk with God before going on to read resources for the overview and background portion. I knew I needed to talk with Him. Then I found myself running to Him, rushing to His arms to cling for dear life. This I did by reading something on my devotional book about worry and it led me to Luke 12. The Message translation was what I exactly needed to hear last night.

And after soaking in His words I just cried like a kid who doesn’t know what to do. I was a child trapped in an adult’s body who has been given a responsibility too much for me to handle. I felt incapable. The task just looked too insurmountable. But God’s arms were around me as I cried and wailed my heart out. The burden was too heavy I was literally whimpering under its weight. But I knew that I was where I belonged, right there in my Father’s embrace.

I stayed like that for a while, with a messy, tear-stained face, gulping great breaths of life-giving air from God. After that, I knew I wasn’t capable of doing anything more. I was relieved and comforted but I knew I also needed to rest physically. My mind couldn’t process well after that vicious attack from doubt. Thankfully, I had peace to go to sleep. It was the right thing to do. I felt safe that God is in control of everything. Time seemed to stop running too fast and went back to its steady rhythm. It could only have been possible through God because time is in His hands.

One thing that really helped me last night was a painting, a birthday gift from a very good friend. She said that I am the girl in the painting. I’m leaning on a tree, a Bible clasped in my hand, my eyes closed and my face a picture of contentment and peace. I am surrounded by a colorful field of flowers under a peaceful summer sky. I became that girl on the painting after that panic attack last night, leaning on something solid, at peace, and the world around me was as it should be. In the picture, I had long, wavy hair and I am wearing a simple but beautiful light blue dress. I was surprised to be able to comfortably see myself that way, comfortable in my femininity, in being the “weaker vessel.” Last night was one of the rare moments in my life that I was really thankful to be female. I felt blessed in being weak. It made me see and appreciate more fully my dependence on God, someone strong, solid and reliable. I usually despise this weakness in being female because I am someone who loves being in control, in full command of myself. But last night, another layer, another mask was stripped off of me. I am beginning to grasp and appreciate this kind of vulnerability in me. It’s meant to draw me to my Maker, to the Lover of my soul, to my solid rock and foundation.

Weakness is not necessarily a disadvantage, nor neediness something to do away with. Not when it comes to relating with my God and Savior.