When You’re Fine – Except, You’re Not

Earlier in this decade, I thought about dying every day for a year.

I wasn’t planning suicide or battling a life-threatening illness, I was simply overburdened and weary to the point of imagining that perhaps even a brief hospital-stay sounded like a relief.

My life was a super-highway with no scenic over-look, so my mind searched for an off-ramp.

The year prior had been rife with transitions – a move I didn’t want to make to an unfinished house, my youngest graduating from homeschool, a new full-time job I hadn’t anticipated needing, career upheaval for my husband.

The year that followed brought an unexpected diagnosis for Rob, more work pressure, shifts in my parents’ health, continued support for my adult children in their new situations, and luscious opportunities for speaking and writing that were welcome yet required me to work in the narrow margins of my life.

And I was fine.

Effective on the job. Valued at church. Writing words well-received by readers. Caring for Rob. Present for my adult children and parents. Supportive of friends.

This is life, right? God is with us and strengthens us through it all. I prayed. Studied my Bible. Did all the things. He works them all together for good for those who love Him, so this would all be for my good and His glory, yes? I trusted. And I was fine.

Except, I wasn’t.

Somewhere deep inside – my heart, mind, and soul were telling me clearly that I wasn’t okay.

I brushed them away like gnats. I’m a warrior. There’s a battle waging. I’m a kingdom-builder and this is my assignment. I’m a servant and God knows what I need. I’m a grown-up and this is life. Soon, I’ll rise on eagle’s wings.

Except there came a week where, twice, as I left clients’ homes after crisis visits, I blew through stop signs. Not my style. I don’t even speed. Three times, as I drove to familiar places along familiar routes, I didn’t recognize where I was. Couldn’t recall where I was going. I lost patience at home. Not my style. I cried in my car in between appointments. I slept, but never felt rested.

I scheduled a check in with my doctor.

He held up the 10-question depression screen I’d completed in the waiting room. “Let’s talk about this,” he said. I’d answered yes to nine out of the 10 questions. The only one to which I’d replied “no” was “Have you considered suicide in the past 30 days?” So, I’m fine, right? I asked. I’ll get through this. It’s just a tough time.

He thought differently. What followed was a very concrete discussion about sleep, food, exercise, rest, stamina, spiritual support, and mental health. Things I know for other people but forget for myself.

I found someone I could trust to talk to about job stress. I told my family and a small circle of friends about my state of mind. Hard conversations where I admitted I’m no super-hero. I need help sometimes even if I look fine and keep going.

I said no to some things. And, I started remembering that I represent God, but I’m not Him. I have limits. I need rest.

So, I reinstituted a Sabbath rest each week. 24-hours. No work. Worship. Naps. Books. Movies. Food. Staring at the sky. Chatting on the porch with friends. Rest. And, like Jesus, I pull away to “desolate places” to recharge and hear from my Father.

Moses needed his father-in-law, Jethro, to remind him he couldn’t (shouldn’t) try to do it all.

Elijah went from blazing victory to death-wish defeat and needed God to send Him to rest beneath a broom tree.

The apostle Paul wrote this, “For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.” 2 Corinthians 1:8-10 ESV

Yes, we have Jesus. Yes, we’ve matured in our faith. We worship, pray, give, serve, obey, read our Bibles, and do all the things. But, sometimes we need help, rest, healing, and restoration and the people around us can’t tell because we’re still showing up and doing. And we’re so busy helping others take care of themselves, no one notices (not even us) that we’re slipping away.

That’s how we’ve lost some wonderful servants of God. We don’t want to lose you, dear reader, if you’re starting to lose heart.

Are you losing sleep? When was the last time you looked forward to something? Do you find yourself resenting people for needing things or grumbling in your heart where you used to be gracious and full of love?

Are you eating or drinking or spending or clicking too much? Are you thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to be laid up for awhile? Does your mind wander to the rest promised in death? Maybe, once or twice, suicide has entered your thoughts.

Maybe God doesn’t give us more than we can bear, but the world certainly does. And we take more on ourselves than God’s asking us to take. And the enemy sneaks in with burdens we’re too busy to fend off.

Often, God renews our strength, but when He doesn’t, He’s trying to get our attention.

When you’re fine – except you’re not – tell someone. Stop and get a little help. More important than all you do is you. We need you, not all the plates you keep spinning.

If there’s no one else you can tell, email me, and we’ll brainstorm.

Even warriors of valor fall prey to battle fatigue. You don’t need to press on – you need to sit down. Listen to God. He has the battle. You catch your breath.

(Please, if you really are fine, send this post to a friend you care about and check on them. Let them know you’re there if they need you. We need one another.)

My new book releases next Tuesday and I’d love your help spreading the word! Here’s a 10 question survey to help your church leaders or ministry team decide if they would benefit from learning how to have hard conversations. And here’s a link to The Art of Hard Conversations where friends can read an excerpt. Thank you for praying that God will use this book to His glory and to the benefit of all who read it.

 

When You’re Fine – Except, You’re Not https://t.co/vAexth1Hk2 #depression #faith #starttalking

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) February 12, 2019