Exhausted.
Spent.
Burnt out.
Tired.
Ok I'm sure you get it by now.
I'm completely wiped out.
I've got absolutely nothing.
I'm completely exhausted from everything life throws at me.
And who wouldn't be, right?
I mean, life is just freakin rough a lot of the times.
Let's just be honest for a second.
(It actually feels incredibly freeing to say that out loud.
Seriously, you should try it.)
It's my last month on the Race.
At the beginning of the month,
I was the kid cheering on my teammates,
encouraging them not to lose heart and press in.
Little did I know that this would be the hardest month on the Race to do that.
God freaking wrecked me today.
Before I share that story, here's a little background:
This month, I have felt completely alone.
I know the Lord never leaves us,
but I couldn't hear his voice and I freaked out.
Anxiety rose in my spirit more powerfully than it ever has before.
I was breathing irregularly.
I couldn't make a decision to save my life.
I fell hard back into people pleasing.
Basically, I was attacked in every realm,
and had absolutely no strength to fight it.
Needless to say, it hasn't been fun.
So this morning, I went for a run.
Don't ask why, I never understand why or how it happens.
After a bit I decided to head back because I hadn't run in a while and, well,
you can put two and two together.
I was exhausted and didn't feel like I could go another step.
And then I took a wrong turn.
It wasn't until I had walked a substantial distance
that I realized I had no idea where I was.
I was completely lost and all alone.
In that moment,
I broke down.
Tears streamed my face as I cried out "Why God?"
And for a moment pride got the best of me.
I didn't want to ask for help,
but I knew it might've been my only chance of making it back.
The woman directed me back in the direction I had just come from.
I backtracked and ended up right back where I started from.
I chose the path I thought was correct.
It wasn't.
I was lost for a second time.
At this point, I really had no physical strength left.
My joints were aching,
and it took everything in me not to plop down on the concrete
and cry like a baby.
I was pissed off.
"Seriously God? Getting lost once was enough, but twice?"
Everything in me was screaming.
I felt completely drained.
Empty.
Useless.
I retraced my steps and made it back to the place where I had chosen the wrong path twice already.
(if you're wondering how the hell there were this many options, it was a roundabout.)
You know the expression third times a charm?
Well it wasn't for me.
I GOT LOST FOR THE THIRD TIME.
This time I couldn't take it.
I just fell to my knees and stared at the ground.
I couldn't even conjure up words.
Then these lyrics rang in my ears:
"And you said I know that this will hurt
But if I don't break your heart then things will just get worse
If the burden seems to much to bear, remember,
the end will justify the pain it took to get us there."
So in the midst of my pain,
God reminded me that eventually,
I'll recognize what the pain was for and that it was all worth it.
Which made me bawl even more.
And that's really what it comes down to, isn't it?
Remembering why it's worth and clinging to that hope at all costs?
Im not sitting here feeling high on Jesus after that experience.
It wasn't fun.
But at my lowest point,
I was finally able to realize the reason why I choose to go through all of this:
His name is Jesus Christ.
Without Him, I'd be nothing.
PS: I did make it home. I ended up asking for help at the supermarket,
and these two teenagers who I had met at school gave me a ride back.
