I remember sitting in a showing of The
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. Some time towards the end of
the movie, I started feeling overwhelmed. I started to feel
terrified and I wanted to jump out of my skin. It had nothing to do
with what was on the screen, but there in that dark theater I felt
alone forced to deal with this alone.
After the movie, the feeling didn't go
away. In fact, it stayed with me for months and months. At first I
thought they were panic attacks, but the more I studied, I found that
this wasn't like that. Panic attacks tend to come on suddenly, hit
very intensely, and then leave just as quickly. That wasn't what I
was experiencing.
The way I try to describe it to people
is “nervous feeling.” That intense knot you get in your stomach
when you have to give a public speech or think about death or see the
red flashing lights in your rear-view mirror: that's what it felt
like. As far as I could tell, there was nothing that I was nervous
about, but the feeling forced my mind to very dark thoughts. And
this stimulation of horrible imagination only fueled the feeling in
my stomach.
I know that others have suffered much
more than I, but this was crushing. It wasn't that it was painful,
so much as persistent. I couldn't escape it. It was like being
trapped in the anxiety of a nightmare with no sense of waking. There
was no way I could accurately convey even to those I loved how I felt
like I was in a constant state of horror and there seemed little I
could do about it.
The worst was the nights. Darkness
would fall on my mind like a shroud and I would literally writhe in
fear. I couldn't eat, I couldn't catch my breath, I couldn't enjoy
distractions like TV, and I couldn't sleep. But after a long while,
out of nowhere, a new feeling would overwhelm me: Normal.
I don't think we have a good way to
describe “normal.” Feeling “good” implies the experiencing
of some immediate pleasure. But that wasn't it. It was the absence
of “bad.” Each night, my wife would patiently wait with me
through the throws of my struggles and she would encourage me to
“hold on 'till normal.” And more and more often it would come
late in the night.
Some gastric meds and some lifestyle
changes helped a lot and the feeling began to fade. And more and
more I began to feel normal.
I don't think that I ever really
appreciated what it was to be normal. I think that is the horrible
shame of it. Feeling normal is such a blessing. Our bodies and
minds are more fragile than we imagine. The slightest imbalance can
throw our health spiraling out of control. Do we savor the feeling
of normal? That feeling you have when the headache finally subsides,
do you take time to notice it? Or are you like me and find yourself
living in relief without attention.
I will often find myself praying, when
it suddenly hits me how much healing the Lord has done for me. And I
burn with shame because I don't appreciate it enough.
I am not grateful enough for calmness,
rest, the ability to walk, the smell of fresh air, the fullness of my
lungs, the beating of my heart, the relief of a hot shower, the
satisfaction of eating, the peace of an anxiety-free mind, and
peaceful sleep.
I am not grateful enough because I
don't notice when everything is going fine. It is only when things
go wrong that I truly appreciate those now-gone moments of peace.
Why is that?
Even after most of my chronic problems
subsided, I barely noticed that I was back to normal. Why? How can
I be so inattentive to such an amazing blessing.
And everyone once and a while I relapse
and I am consumed by the nervous feeling, trapped in that inescapable
prison of fear. But I know that it can get better. I can hold on
'til normal.
I've spent a lot of time in prayer over
this. I've come to the conclusion that I do not deserve normal.
Every day I sin and in the battle between the grace of God and my
selfish soul, I often feel like I am far from holiness. There is so
much waste in my life. There is so much more good I could be doing
but the inertia of laziness plants me in front of the TV or
constantly checking Twitter instead of spending time with the Lord in
prayer or giving my time to those in need.
That is why God gives us normal. On
that blank slate of feeling, we can be free from any overwhelming
problems so that we can do good. When I fall back into my anxious
state, I am hit by how little I have used my normal to help others or
to improve my soul. But guilt is not what God wants from me.
A man a greatly admire once told me the
story about how he was in a super market buying some chocolate
oatmeal, and he was overwhelmed with the thought of all those who
couldn't afford to buy chocolate oatmeal and were in fact starving at
that moment. Wave upon wave of guilt flooded his heart as he felt
this indulgence was horrible decadent and offensive to those with
little. But he said that God spoke to his heart at that moment and
said:
“I don't want your guilt. I want
your gratitude.”
I do feel guilty about how little I
appreciate normal, but that is not what God wants. He wants my
gratitude.
I think that is the key. If I can
always recognize the blessing of normal, then maybe I can feel a
persistent sense of gratitude in my life. If I remember that every
normal moment is a gift, I can treat it as a gift and use my times of
normal wisely. And when times are dark, I can remember that normal
may be just around the corner, and I can be thankful for the memory
of normal too.
And if I can be truly grateful, maybe I
can finally start to progress on the road to righteousness.
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