I have a confession to make. I’m absolutely terrified right now.
There’s this voice that I can’t stop hearing. It’s a voice that’s “talking me down.”
You can’t do this.
No one supports you.
You are crazy.
You made the wrong choice.
Back in El Alto, Bolivia I was wrapped into my sleeping bag watching my breath rise into the air while listening to a podcast from Red Rocks Church’s Young Adults department (classic). Jessie Davis, was talking about our callings. I bet you’ve questioned your calling. Something along the lines of “what am I supposed to do with my life?”
Jessie said something that stuck out in the moment, so I wrote it down, not knowing that it would register with me so much more over a month later. She talked about this voice I just referenced, saying it works in one of three ways: it either is “talking you down,” “talking you scared,” or “talking you accused.” Right now, the voice is “talking me down.” Essentially, the voice is trying to take my eyes off the prize (aka God’s calling for my life) so that I look so down on my capabilities that I don’t actually go through with it.
But then there’s another voice.
We can do this.
Family and friends support us.
We may be a little crazy, but so was Paul. And John. And Peter.
We made the right choice.
I wonder if this is how my Nana feels as she’s battling Alzheimer’s. I’ve seen Alzheimer’s at work first hand with my Grandpa; but I have to tell you, watching it from afar is even harder. Especially the days when you FaceTime home and hear your Nana wouldn’t stop shouting the night before; that she started pushing and shoving her family- your family. The days when you hear that she won’t stop crying- but that was only minutes after the shouting. The days you hear that she asked, once again, if she can send you something for your birthday. That question comes every five minutes, apparently. Hey, at least she’s thinking about me!
Sometimes I feel like this is my world on the Race (and in all our lives)- I will go from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows; to seeing the most generous hearts to the most lonely ones. I go from seeing my cute little niece playing on the floor with my pups via FaceTime to hearing about Alzheimer’s. But I’m thankful for these things. At first it taught me guilt. Now, I have learned gratitude. To be thankful for the broken hearts, for the broken people, and even for Alzheimer’s.
You see, I accepted a job last week. The decision was hard, mostly because spending only 5 weeks with my family before I pick up and move again seemed foolish. After all, Nana is sick. Really sick. But then I said yes to Red Rocks Church, and the peace came. The peace I was desperately searching for as I tried to hear God’s voice in the midst of a big decision while pacing back and forth. That’s why I’m thankful; because I have a family that is so loving and so desperately hard to leave. The reason I’m thankful for Alzheimer’s? I’m grateful for my mind. Because I still know how to differentiate the voices in my head. The one that tells me to start shouting and the one that tells me to give hugs and send birthday cards.
But what about the days when you can’t get rid of that voice? I told you a few paragraphs ago that I can’t stop hearing this voice that is talking me down. It consumes me before bed. It tells me that I will never get enough donations to be supported for my 9 months in Denver. It tells me that no one will even donate again, because they already got me this far and that now I have to do it on my own. It tells me that I’m a bad person for not being home with my Nana right now. It tells me that i made the wrong choice.
I HATE that. I know it isn’t true. I know that someway, somehow, the Lord is going to provide the donations. I know that I can’t cure Alzheimer’s. I know that no matter where in the world I am, I can provide my Nana and my family with love.
But still, the voice will creep back in. “You can’t do this.” “You aren’t good enough.”
And I’m learning to even be thankful for this one, too. I’m thankful because it’s possible to be rescued from it. Notice those statements from above:
You can’t do this.
No one supports you.
You are crazy.
You made the wrong choice.
They aren’t statements about my character. I’m not hearing this:
I can’t do this.
I don’t have support.
I am crazy.
I made the wrong choice.
I know this voice I’m hearing isn’t mine, it’s the enemy’s. But I’m also hearing the Lord’s, the Rescuer’s. And He’s telling me the exact opposite:
We can do this.
Family and friends support us.
We may be a little crazy, but so was Paul. And John. And Peter.
We made the right choice.
It is because of the Lord’s voice I know Red Rocks is the right choice. It’s because of the Word that I know funding will eventually come in, and probably not from the same people that graciously donated for the Race (and that’s okay). It’s because He tells us in the Word time and time again that He’s with us, and He’s got this (no matter what “this” is).
“Taste and see that the Lord is good. How happy is the person who takes refuge in Him!” ~Psalm 34:8
“I am able to do all things through Him who strengthens me.” ~Philippians 4:13
“He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he hears their cry for help and saves them. the Lord guards all those who love Him. ~Psalm 145:19-20
With the Lord there is no longer an “I,” it’s a “we” (1 Corinthians 3:16). Check this out, “For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing will be able to separate us from the love that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39). That’s a forever “we.”
Because the truth is this, the enemy only goes after the one’s that the Lord’s about to use; but the lord goes after everyone, and His pursuit is one of love.
I can’t stop hearing these voices in my head, but I know which one is true. Thank you, Alzheimer’s, for reminding me I can be rescued.
“The moment you step into your moment from God there will be voices that rise up against you.”
To hear Jessie’s full sermon click here.
