Mental Obstruction

First of all, many thanks to Heidi for the inspiration for this post, which I received from her awesomely titled post, “Brain Constipation”. I can now say we no longer have an exclusively online relationship since we met a few weeks ago and I’m thinking we have a lot in common.
As an introvert who is good at bottling up feelings and putting on a happy face, I often struggle with the very scientifically-termed condition of brain constipation. I think we all have those moments when life is just too much to process all at once, so we file it away for later. The problem is when we never access those files again, and they come back at most inopportune times.
Take, for example, today. The last several weeks have been stressful for me for many reasons, a few of which I’ll list later. I kept going and pasted on a decently normal face. And who would have guessed it’d all hit me in the Louisville Airport of all places? I had seen Ginny off on her flight and had 5 hours to kill before mine took off. I camped out in Starbucks and maybe it was the magical mix of grogginess from the early morning and the caffeine I was ingesting, but I was suddenly totally bogged down. Weighed down by emotions, confusion, and fears.
Just a few of them (to rid the cerebral back-up):

• the doctor appointment I had last week that was inconclusive at best; my endocrinologist telling me she won’t be seeing me again until next August (at which point, I’ll have to return from Uganda and withdraw from my meds and do the low-iodine diet again—can’t say I’m looking forward to that) and that my thyroid is not to blame for my recent fatigue
• the total freak-out I allowed myself after leaving her office; major PTSD going on here. The last time I felt fatigued and went looking for a cause, I found cancer and ended up putting my life on hold for 8 months. Fearing that I’ll never get back to Bundibugyo, that I’ll never be well, that getting a sleep study done soon is impossible, that I’m just some kind of crazy hypochondriac.
• the loneliness I’ve felt keenly the last few weeks; the desire to have that someone to support me through these difficult moments and vice versa; someone to do life with (sure, I know God can fulfill that desire but when surrounded by couples and realizing the disheartening male-female ratio in missions, discouragement can quickly set in)
• being confronted once again by the huge needs of a broken and groaning world at the GMHC. Surrounded by young nurses and med students, I felt entirely inadequate and missing the idealism that was taken away too early, in my opinion. I felt more like the walking wounded, overwhelmed by the many suggested ways of relieving just a bit of the pain in our world, of which I’ve had just a tiny taste.
• the nagging sense that I am the worst missionary candidate on God’s green earth—a marred health history, one who struggles with depression/anxiety, loves Chic-fil-a and Dr. Pepper and can’t seem the get the truth of the gospel through her own hard heart.

The list could go on. But you don’t need the see all that is happening in the cracks and crevices of my brain—that’s a scary place for sure…ha! The point is, as I sat in that Starbucks, alone and burdened, scared and confused, God led me to Paul Miller’s book, A Praying Life. I had downloaded it months ago on my iPad for free and never got around to reading it. And in an attempt at distraction, I started reading.
What an encouragement! Like, whoa. The basic message of the first few chapters is that God wants you to come to Him as you are. Sure, I’ve heard that 100 times before. But as I sat there reading, overwhelmed by the messiness of my heart and life, it meant something new. He writes, “The criteria for coming to Jesus is weariness. Come overwhelmed with life. Come with your wandering mind. Come messy…So instead of being paralyzed by who you are, begin with who you are. That’s how the gospel works. God begins with you. It’s a little scary because you are messed up.”
What freedom and joy can be found in knowing that God wants me to come—messy, weary, and overwhelmed. I also listened to my Sonship lecture in the airport and heard about how as you grow in the faith, your view of your sin expands and you see just how sinful you are. But along with that, should come a cross that grows bigger and a God who loves more and whose grace abounds.
I have asked God to reveal my sin to me, since I often think I’m a pretty okay person. I’m not a serial killer, heck, I don’t even have a tattoo (note the sarcasm, please :) I’m a missionary. That’s gotta count for something, right? Not necesssarily. While the Holy Spirit has been faithful in answering my prayer to show me my sin, I’ve become bogged down in it, overwhelmed by it, scared. But as I read Paul Miller’s book and listened to Sonship today, I remembered that my Father’s love and grace abounds and that He invites me to come and chat with him, telling him about all my issues because I’m messed up.