I wanted to break down crying today. In not-so-me fashion, I holed myself up in my room and just stewed. Actually, stewing would mean I did something with my thought patterns. That’s not the case. I wasted a day doing the simple tasks because I didn’t want to admit something, let God scold me and then let Him disciple me. I was ticked, and dag-frikkin’-gummit, it felt good.
For the first time in years I wrote something that chilled my blood. All I could write was, “Lord God- I hate this body. Take me home. Now.” For every epileptic joke I possess, there’s nothing in my storehouse for when my body turns on me and seizures have nothing to do with it. When certain body functions become impossible for an unknown amount of time, and it’s simply a side effect of long term chronic epilepsy; tears come and anger still happens. Joking would be a relief, but joking can’t happen.
I mutter it again- “Lord God Almighty, I hate this body.” My stomach is in knots and I’m just done fighting for the day. I’ve tried to ignore the fact that this discrepancy in my character is blaring through loud and clear- but I can’t.
I’ve witnessed miracles in this body… and I hate it? This body has spent periods of time void of human contact, but knows what it’s like to mercifully be rocked to sleep by unseen hands… and I hate it? This body is the only ever-ready reason I need Christ… and I hate it? This body has been an instrument in the hands of My Creator to turn others towards Him… And I hate it?
No. No, Lord. I’ll say it again, although right now, I don’t feel it as much. I want epilepsy in Heaven. I need it- it’s been the one thing to make me want You. But there are days, Sweet Jesus, where I just want out. When body functions no 24-year-old should have to barter with become an impossibility- I want out. I want a break. Please Jesus, I just… Make me laugh, smack me upside the head- do something. I want out, Lord. This is too much.
As I muttered those words, I heard one thing from the heart of my Savior. It didn’t solve my immediate problem- but it smacked my heart around.
Baby Girl, you said you wanted to identify with Me in My sufferings. Not having what you think you deserve keeps you humble. It also keeps you alert. If you lack humility, you lack a huge part of what agapè love is. Do you see Me in your sufferings yet? Or are you still focused on what the world is telling you?
No, Lord. This is just as much your gift as anything else. My hands may be trembling as I start over, and forgive me if I still fight you- but what’s left of me, what’s left of my dignity, my identity and my joy is still yours. I can’t hate what is making me more like You.