I didn’t want to go to the prayer room Tuesday night, but that wasn’t really a surprise… I rarely want to go anywhere lately. I could hardly justify not going, though – I had not left the house all day, so what in the world kind of excuse could I conjure up in order to justify missing this one commitment? I sighed, dragging myself to my room to look for clothes that didn’t have any holes and would cover my knees and shoulders. “Jesus,” I said out loud as I dug through my pack, “I’m ready to go home. Anytime now.”
Psalm 34:8
Something is off.
I have not been hungry in what feels like forever, yet I’ve been craving something specific lately, a certain flavor that I cannot articulate or define. I think that I would know it if I tasted it, but I have no idea how to find it. I eat when I need to, but nothing satisfies me.
I think I'm ruined.
I pride myself on being a healthy person; I’m like a stubborn, middle-aged man when it comes to going to the doctor or taking medicine. I don’t need it. I’m fine. My body will fight it off on its own. But I spent more days in bed than out of it in Vietnam, always fending off a cocktail of symptoms that were too varied and numerous to point at any one, specific issue. I’m sick of being sick. I’m tired of being tired – and I’m even more tired of talking about it.
Some people called it depression, other said spiritual oppression… maybe it was both. Maybe it was laziness and illness and weirdness all rolled into one. Regardless of any label, I ached, overwhelmed by a listlessness that refused to be filled. Absolutely nothing satisfied me last month: not food or my friends’ encouragement or air-conditioning and certainly not episode after episode of Community and Arrested Development. Things that used to bring me comfort and happiness left me feeling emptier and drier than ever.
I could feel my Spirit within me, longing for time with Jesus, desperate for real, revitalizing rest, but my body and mind mutinied and won. Oh, I had my quiet time. Absolutely I did. I faithfully listened to my worship music and opened my Bible and I even underlined things.
I’ve found myself wracked with a desire to be in God’s presence, but unsure of how to get there. My soul thirsted for it and my body longed for it, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water [Psalm 63], but there was this block that I could not get around. I felt like my whole self was stuck in one of those Chinese finger traps – the kind that get tighter and more difficult to get off the harder you pull. I stomped around all month, attempting to force myself into God’s presence; however, the harder I strived to get myself there, the more frustrated I became.
I spent my time in Vietnam thirsty, blind, and dying for a taste of something I could not grasp on my own. I slept through our travel day to Malaysia, waking up with a jolt only as the plane landed. Lethargically, I gathered my things and disembarked, desperately ready for the change of scenery.
The safe word was “Snuffleupagus.”
The last prayer room-type environment that I experienced turned out to be an all night African church service – cold, loud, draining, and remarkably un-filling. Given the state of my spirit at the beginning of my time in Malaysia, I was certainly not in the mood for another night like that one, so I rehearsed the game plan with my teammates on our way to the prayer house on Tuesday night. One hour maximum, Snuffleupagus, then I was out.
But then I walked into PenHOP [Penang House of Prayer] and I instantly knew that it was going to be more than an hour – in the very best way possible.
I had never been there before, but it felt familiar to me. There were chairs and a stage and worship leaders, but also cushions and floorspace to sprawl out on and people worshipping to their own rhythm. Post-It note prayers and a giant map of the world covered the walls.
Immediately, I plopped down on the floor with my journal and dumped my markers out all around me, a veritable toddler in her element. This is the taste I have been craving. This is the sight I have been longing to see. I closed my eyes and quieted my heart and just rested with Jesus for a little while and almost instantly, life and joy flooded my senses. You see, what I’ve found is that trying to force my way into God’s presence does not work; barging into the throne room of God implies that we don’t belong there, which we do. But when we rest and wait in stillness, He can come like He promises and bring the peace and joy that we so desperately crave.
My problems in Vietnam went much deeper than just my physical body. God created me as an individual to operate in joy and energy, to engage with the people around me and to write the stories that He puts on my heart, but I cannot do any of those things apart from His power. After a year of experiencing His glory and presence so intensely, I am completely ruined for anything less and all of my attempts to prove otherwise leave me dry and empty. When I’m not in the presence of God, I am not a writer or a creative person or a source of joy and life. I’m actually incapable of producing or experiencing anything beautiful – for myself or for others.
As I sat in His presence on Tuesday night, though, words came for the first time in a long time – a structure for this blog came, which is something I have been wrestling with for nearly two weeks. I was excited to write for the first time in months. I could practically see my creativity meter refilling as I just marinated with my journal and markers and Jesus for a while.
After a dry month in Vietnam and now the oasis that I have found in Malaysia, I’m finally figuring out that Jesus is not in any rush with me. I do not have to plead with Him to make me more into His image. I do not have to hurry or try to grow myself spiritually anymore than I had to force my body to mature. My role in this exchange is simply this: to rest. To be still and know that He is God. To taste and see just how good my God is – and then to trust that I will be blessed when I take refuge in Him and His presence.
I only have a few days left out here; this season is rapidly coming to a close. But how awesome to have one more month abroad to embrace what God has for me, in faith that He is just as present and sweet at home as He is out here. No more rushing or stressing about where we're going — just resting in His presence today, knowing that I get to do it again tomorrow and the next day and all of the days after that.
Maybe being ruined won't be so bad after all.
