A Better Sweater

I started this entry on 9/27/20, and tonight I will finish it at last.

Over the last 15 years or so, my faith has carried me through anxiety, health issues, severe stress, heartbreak, and loneliness. The tougher the battles, the deeper my roots grew, and the more precious my Beloved became to me. I'm not saying I didn't struggle; if you've been reading long, you know that isn't true. But through it all, I always leaned on a deep trust in God's faithfulness, and what a comfort that was.

Last July, a combination of prolonged work stress and a drug interaction triggered a severe flare-up of Hashimoto's thyroiditis, an autoimmune disorder that I've had since my twenties. The flare-up led to chronic pain, inflammation, digestive problems, weight loss, and mania due to prolonged insomnia. I was out of work for five months, and a slew of other problems ensued which I won't burden you with. 

Somewhere along the way, I felt so alone and so broken that my faith suffered a grievous injury. I felt betrayed and abandoned by even my Beloved. Although God continued to take care of me in beautiful ways, and although He restored my physical, mental, and financial health, the nagging fear that He couldn't be trusted drove a wedge between us.

I never turned my back on Him. I continued to pray, read my Bible, and meditate on scripture, yet nothing seemed to penetrate the sadness that overshadowed me. On a walk in the park a couple of weeks ago, I told Jesus, "In the past, I used to feel like there was a veil between me and you. I felt that you were near, but I couldn't get close to you. Back then, you helped me cross that veil. But now, it's worse. I feel..."

I paused on the trail as I searched for an apt comparison. "I feel like I'm in a tomb." Tears slipped down my cheeks, and the darkness was so heavy that I could feel its weight. "Please, Jesus. Please help me," I prayed. 

During online church a few minutes later, a sacred echo in the first song infused me with hope. "You called my name," I sang, "and I ran outta that grave. Out of the darkness, into your glorious day."

The following week, I followed my comforting routine of brief morning walks with a pause to meditate on my scripture passages. As I fingered the worn, feathery edges of the business cards that I've accumulated over the last 20 years, I asked God often, "When will you give me another passage? Please, I want to learn more scriptures. I need your truth to transform me."

I'd been praying that for a long time, and I didn't really expect an answer. It had been a year since I'd found my last passage, and many months since I'd committed all of those verses to memory. The delay wasn't unusual; I'd learned years before that God never works on my schedule and that His timing is always perfect. 

One Tuesday night (9/22/20), I stumbled to my prayer closet at the end of an exhausting day and collapsed onto my knees. "I miss you, Beloved," I prayed. "Why? Why do I feel so far from you? I long for you, Jesus." 

CiCi wrapped herself around my knee and purred luxuriously, but her affection scarcely penetrated the ache in my heart. For the thousandth time, I wished I could be the old me from before last year, the me who always felt secure in her Father's love. 

I had much more to say, but I couldn't put it into words. So I decided to catch up on writing in my gratitude journal, which lay at my feet next to CiCi. Smiling as I held the little pink volume that Allyson gave me for my last birthday, I flipped it over to read the inscription on the back yet again: "I know the plans." 

When I opened to the next blank page and read the verse at the bottom, I gasped:

My heart leaped at the sacred echo: "As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God. I thirst for God, the living God." (Psalm 42:1-2). 

"Is this my new passage?" I asked. "It is, isn't it? Yes, I long for you, God. I thirst for you." I sat there smiling and crying for a couple of minutes. "Thank you, God," I said finally. "Now I will wait for you to confirm it."

A wayward thought echoed my words. But what if He doesn't?

Neither of us was surprised. Eighteen times before, God had given me a memory passage and then confirmed it, but nearly all of those times I'd been afraid that He wouldn't. 

This time, I felt less deserving than ever. I'd been struggling with so many doubts for so many months. Why should God do me any favors? 

Besides, this verse was not one that I could recall hearing anywhere, though I did recognize it from a hymn we'd sung when I was a little girl: "As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after thee. You alone are my soul's desire, and I long to worship you." This wasn't a verse that everyone quoted, like Psalm 23 or John 3:16. I doubted that I would hear it in a sermon or on the radio. Then again, God had rarely used such obvious means to confirm my passages. I pondered over some of the delightfully creative ways He had confirmed passages, like a young man telling me about his grandmother's cross-stitch embroidery, and a Pilates lesson that included the odd instructions to "keep your foot deeply rooted." How might God confirm this relatively obscure verse? 

Three days later, on a Friday morning, I was already feeling discouraged about the wait. I had the sinking feeling that God was done with me--if He was there at all. While trampolining before work that morning, I heard a song that perfectly expressed my pain and doubts. It was so haunting, so raw, so beautiful, that tears ran down my cheeks while I jumped. 

I am falling
Will You catch me?...

God I need You
To be my rescue
Be my parachute.

The fear that I'm alone
Around my neck like a stone....

I've heard that You are good
And You are strong
And if I could I would believe
Help me to believe.

-Parachute, by Hawk Nelson (emphasis added)

The top comment on the YouTube video caught my eye, leading me to a Twitter post by the lead singer and songwriter. In it, Jonathan described how his faith had decayed over the course of a couple years, like a sweater slowly unraveling until one day there was nothing left. 

Is that what's happening to me? I wondered. Will my faith unravel, too? If it does, what will be left of me? 

For the rest of the day, a cold fear gripped me. Many of Jonathan's doubts plagued me as well. If I succumbed to those thoughts, if I believed there was no God, to whom could I turn for help? 

That evening, a few hours spent with my family--including my beloved Aunt Judy who was visiting from Indiana--brought a respite from my circling thoughts, but they were waiting for me in the car afterward. To drown them out, I flipped through my radio presets looking for some preaching, but I found only music and commercials. I pressed the scan button until I landed on the soothing voice of a preacher. 

I couldn't remember ever listening to this station, and I wondered if God had led me here. Perhaps this pastor would quote from the psalm about the deer. His words were a little comforting, but there was no mention of deer.

On the long drive to Allyson's soccer game the next morning, I didn't change the station even though the music was not as up-to-date as I preferred. Again, I wondered whether God might have a message for me on this station. The music reminded me of what seemed like another lifetime, with joys now out of reach. But it also reminded me of God's faithfulness.

My heaviness persisted through the game, though I shouted several times over Allyson's impressive saves in goal. Between the halves, I read a text that gave me hope. My friend Diana told me she was mailing me a devotional called Jesus Calling.

Warmed by her loving gesture, I prayed, "Are you calling me back to you, Beloved?"

I climbed into the car just in time to hear an unfamiliar DJ describing his grandchildren's tears at the end of a visit. "Even though they were going to a much more fun place for the rest of their vacation, they would rather have stayed with us."

I listened absently as I wound my way out of the giant parking lot, until the other DJ's response captured my full attention. "That's how we should feel about God's presence," she said. "Of course, He's always with us, but when we don't feel close to Him, we should cry and want to be near Him again." 

"That's how I feel about you, God," I said. "I want-"

Her next words interrupted my prayer. "It's like that verse in..."

Somehow, I just knew. 

"...Psalm 42."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I didn't yet know which chapter my verse was in, but I knew it was in Psalms. 

When I recognized the words, I started to sob, especially when I heard the end of the second verse. "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?" 

The rest of that Saturday felt almost like a dream, or maybe more like waking up from a nightmare. Of course God wasn't finished with me! "For He knows how we are formed. He remembers that we are dust." (Psalm 103)

No matter how many times God does this for me, I have to marvel at it. Do you know how many verses are in the Bible? 

31,102.

Can you even fathom the odds that I would be in the car at just the right moment to hear that verse, on a station I never listen to, just four days after I asked God to show me whether this was the passage He wanted me to memorize? It's incomprehensible.

But wait, there's more. The story got even better. 

In the morning, I looked up the rest of the chapter. It could not have expressed my hurts and longings more perfectly had I written it myself. 

3 My tears have been my food day and night, while men say to me all day long, "Where is your God?" [This is what the enemy has been whispering for so long.]

4 These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I used to go with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God, with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng. [In the past, I was at the front of the line, approaching God with joy, but now I tend to trail behind, an easy target for my enemy.]

5 Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. [I can relate to the unexplained depression, and the word yet gives this verse two wonderful meanings: a. I will praise God in the future, on the other side of this trial; and b. I may feel down now, but even so, I will praise Him.]

6 My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you from the land of the Jordan, the heights of Hermon--from Mount Mizar. [This reminds me of the gorgeous mountains of Costa Rica, and how close I felt to God there.]

7 Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. [I remember the profound pull of God in the waves at Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica, when this verse resonated in my soul like never before.]

8 By day the LORD directs his love, at night his song is with me--a prayer to the God of my life. [How beautiful that God's song is my own prayer to Him. I don't understand it, but somehow it makes sense.]

9 I say to God my Rock, "Why have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy?" [Yes, I have felt forgotten, abandoned to the enemy's attacks.]

10 My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, "Where is your God?"

11 Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. [I love that the chapter closes with a repeated message of hope.]

A month has passed since these events occurred, and I feel like a different person. Meditating on those verses has been a sweet joy, and I feel my hope growing by the day. The Jesus Calling devotional makes a great bookend for my day; I read it before I get out of bed in the morning and again before I lay my head down at night. When I remarked to Diana that nearly every entry seems to be written specifically for me, she said she feels the same way, and so does her mother. How does God do that? 

This gift from God gave me the courage to move past surviving and start counseling again. Between that and my Celebrate Recovery step study, I believe that I will work through my pain and let it go, and in the end, I will be stronger for it. 

This week, it occurred to me that maybe my sweater needed unraveling. Although I've never learned to knit, I know that you can pull the stitches out of a garment and make the yarn into something new, something that fits better. I am learning to accept that I will never be the old Sarah, from before this latest trial. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing. When my Beloved is finished with me, I will be the Sarah that He envisioned when He knit me together in my mother's womb. (Psalm 139).