A Cave Dweller’s Diary

I had such sweet God moments over the last couple of days, precious enough to make one expect to see an immediate emancipation from the cave, following. Well, the expectation has not come to pass. It seems as though I’m stuck in this hole a while longer. Maybe it has to get worse before it gets better.

Last night I noticed I missed a phone call from a friend. Nothing out of the ordinary. He probably needs to talk about taking care of this or that business. Maybe he needs a prayer. I should call him back, but I can’t bring myself to hit the “send” button on my cell phone. A small ball of fear forms in my stomach and creeps up to my chest, pulsating. You should call. I can’t. You should call. I can’t. You should call. I can’t… Please stop. Make this go away, it’s making me sick.

C’mon now, he is a friend, what are you afraid of? Ah, I’m afraid of having to be pleasant on the phone, being there for him as a friend, offering a support where it’s needed, being asked to take on additional tasks, or being asked to do what I already have agreed to do. I am so sorry, but all these things feel too much for me right now. So I decide not to call. Maybe I will tomorrow. The nauseating little ball slides down my esophagus, back to my stomach and settles there. It won’t be bothering me now, not until the next time I’m pressed to perform.

I see the difference, though, since I’ve experienced the presence of God. I’m no longer alone in my cave. He is now ready to step in every time I let Him. It took me ‘till 1 AM, but I finished my homework (at least the most of it). I asked for help, and You were definitely there, my God. For goodness sake, it’s my homework, nothing of the spiritual importance. It’s ridiculous that You want to be involved in such a mundane detail of my petty life. Dear creator of the heaven and the earth, who am I that you are mindful of, that you care for me? Your love is outrageous and You are out of Your omnipotent mind to love me.

As I lay in my bed, I start to freak out again. I’m exhausted, yet I can’t fall asleep. Even if I fall asleep right now, I still won’t get enough sleep. I just remember how tired I’ve been, and imagine how much worse it will be tomorrow. The mixture of fret and dread spreads from the small ball in my stomach and to the whole body. But you know what, I’m going to hand the darn thing over to God. I just won’t worry about how little sleep I’d get or how tired I’ll be tomorrow. God, my body belongs to You. You know my coming and going, standing and lying. I’ll surrender to You the control over when I fall asleep. What do you want me to do in this moment while I lay awake? What can I do to please you? I will be still and know that You are God.

So I close my eyes and listen to the sound of wind and rain hitting the roof and running down the siding of the house. It’s strange that the sound of rain makes it feel quieter. It cancels out other noise from the street and fills the late night air. And I slip into a gentle obscurity…

Morning. I wake up to the alarm clock going off, and Yes! It’s not nearly as bad as I feared it would be. I knew You would grant me Your favor, God. I keep falling back asleep, but thanks to the wonderful gift of snooze on my alarm, I even manage to get through the Morning Office in the Devine Hours. Oh, the temptation of going back to sleep for another 10 minutes is great, but I say in Christ, I can do anything. Lord, claiming your power in faith works like a miracle. It is in fact a miracle that you are working in me. What an amazing effect a positive phrase creates! It makes me wonder, how many negative phrases I’m unconsciously filling my head with, when I’m overwhelmed by the feeling of incompetence?

I notice another sign of the life in the cave while driving to work. The worship music I normally love sounds too loud to me this morning. I’m too frail for the beat. So I switch to a calmer praise worship CD. No, it’s still too harsh. How about Bach? No, it’s not working either. Then I hear You telling me to push through the discomfort. I feel like I would go off the deep end, if I push myself. But You are nudging me to push beyond the feeling. “Child, come to me. Meet me in the worship. When you fall, you will fall in my arms.” I can’t find a song I know well enough to sing on this CD, and my commute is almost over. It has to wait until my commute back.

I think about what’s up with my resistance to praise worship. Then I realize one of the most powerful forces that are holding me in the cave, is self-pity. It robs me of the courage to get out and drives me deeper and deeper into the cave. A part of me wants to keep dwelling in the cave, so it naturally averts praise worship, which is the complete opposite of self-pity: Praise worship takes my eyes off of myself and lifts them up to God.

Lord, I’m pathetic. How can You put up with me? Who is like you, o God? And you are so very near. When things are all right, I can go without noticing Your presence for days. But when I’m messed up like this, You let me know that you don’t leave my side even for a second. I go up and down like a piece of trash, tossed around among the ocean waves. Yet You let me experience victories by Your grace in the midst of rather deflating circumstances. Psalmist wasn’t lying about You not despising the broken hearted. I do experience You more intimately when I’m utterly defeated. For that, I thank You for my life in the cave.