Breaking Down

So, I have a story okay? I'm sure some of you have heard it, but it bears recording, and also a close resemblance to my last post (the one about expectations). I was driving home from my grandparents' home this past Friday morning. While driving on a particularly long stretch of highway, my radio loses clears signal from all the local Christian radio stations. In fact, at this point in the journey, I have two options to listen to: talk radio or country. This particular day I was not interested in country and I've never been overly fond of talk radio. So, I made a decision, one that for me was quite odd at first.

I turned off the radio. Then, I tried to imagine that God was in the car with me, sitting right next to me, and we talked. It sounds weird, but it actually got rather comfortable. The reason that I wanted to sit down and talk with God had a lot to do with my plans for the future. I've been tossing around ideas about what I would like to do after graduation, which include things absolutely detested by my family. Specifically, I have been contemplating the idea of attempting to join the police force. My mother is against this because it is obviously dangerous, and I have yet to explain this to my grandparents, because the pay is barely over that of a beginning teacher. So, I determined that the person that I should really be talk to is not my mom, or my grandma, but my Father. We talked about earthly authorities, Paul's imprisonment, and worldly aspirations. It was indeed a most interesting conversation, in which I learned that I had no control over my own life.

Not that God had complete control of my life, but that I had freely given the reins to my family, whose intentions were good, but whose methods have caused me to lose my own identity in life. Now, I know that this sounds like an awfully big claim, but do realize that this is no exaggeration. God told me that I need to depend on Him for peace and rest, because I do continually run myself ragged. The past few weeks have been especially rough, and I have had little rest, little real rest. Because of all this running and so little soul rest, I found myself on the verge of a true breakdown just a few short hours later, on my way to work.

I felt the pang of knowledge that something in my life was most horribly wrong, yet I could not tell what is was nor how to solve it. I felt utterly powerless, and without time or place to turn to. Also, the need to dry my eyes before entering into my place of employment was eminent. So, as expertly as ever, I quickly and quietly stowed away my emotions and pain and went on in the world as if nothing we wrong.

The following day, I again found myself on the edge overlooking the cliffs losing everything that is myself and yet not myself. I was driving home from work, and off course, purposing passing my church. I needed a home, a sanctuary, a place that I knew I was wrapped in the arms of love. As a slap in the face, all eight doors into the church was locked from the inside. I sat in my Father's garden and wept at being a wounded prodigal denied peace. Somehow, though, in my tears it was made known to me that while I was suffering, there will eventually be peace, though I know not when.