The last couple weeks have been…for the lack of a better term…weird. Running has been on a hiatus. I have not been planning when and where to run, but rather when and where to stretch and which stretch will make me magically all better.
Don’t get me wrong, I am improving. I did do a little running this weekend and I have much hope that soon I will be back to pounding out the miles.
In this two weeks, I have spent a lot of time begging God to bring the strength back to my leg. But I realized today, I haven’t spent much time, if any, asking Him to be my strength. To be my source of satisfaction.
This weekend really highlighted this for me. I have been fighting against a desperate blanket of depression. Despising the fact that I could not fix it with my running and worried the lowered meds wouldn’t be feasible long-term.
Thankfully the Lord reminded me that much of that depression is coming because the Ibuprofen I have been taking for the leg reduces the effectiveness of my primary bipolar medication.
Yet, even today, among some amazing time with Christian friends I adore, there was an emptiness, a hollowness. I know a great deal of that is my inability to live in the moment and it is my overwhelming fear that I will screw up every single friendship I have and that maybe I don’t even actually have any friends, but that is a separate topic. Tonight, I realized where that emptiness really is coming from. I am not allowing the Lord to be my portion, I am not allowing the Lord to satisfy my desires. Just as I realized that this verse popped up, literally, on my phone.
Revelation 22:17 The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let the one who hears say, “Come!” Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life.
I want the water of life. I want to draw close to Jesus. I want to trust Him as I often forget to do. I want to allow Jesus to walk with me, not just keep Him from afar in a boat, there to send me a life preserver when I realize I am drowning. I want to allow Jesus to heal some of those hurts that make interacting with others so scary.
I said to a friend recently, “I don’t think anyone knows how broken I am.” And that’s true. It’s the gift and the curse of high-functioning depression. I do everything I am supposed, I look normal. I laugh and joke. Thing is, hiding how broken you are–includes hiding it from yourself and God. And, somehow, that needs to change. I don’t know how to reveal to God how broken I am and let him step into those broken places, but for once, I am going to start with acknowledging I have kept Him out–and pray it does not get worse before it gets better.
In my mind’s eye, I am envisioning a lot of struggle, but there may be nothing visible. Maybe the Lord will just open His arms and say I have been waiting your whole life for you to acknowledge the broken and that will be it. I don’t know, what I do know is I want my hunger and thirst to point me to the Lord, to point me to him.