Foundations


Lately, I’ve gathered so much tension in my head, I figured out how to wiggle my ears. (By activating a muscle I didn’t know was in my control.)

Part of it is a “what if” question. One which seems so big, I can only look to God for answers, help, and hope.

Part of it is an ongoing excavation of my past. Facing who I am, in light of, and perhaps in spite of, the conditions of my childhood.

Part of it is filtering through the relentless stream of national news, academic pressure, and daily social encounters.

But tonight, part of it is simply remembering where I was a year ago.


Last year’s emotional memories occasionally shoot through my body, and they carve a rending, visceral pain in the space between my heart and stomach.

I’m brought back, once again, to why I wanted to break my skin open. I relive what made my mother fly across the globe, reminding me to eat and rest. How I spent half a week sleeping on friends’ floors, which kept me safe.

The rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on me, but I could not fall any further than my knees.

At my lowest, I had nothing left, but I could still cling to my foundation of Christ. I made my bed in the depths of hell, but the Lord was there with me.

There at the bottom, I tested my bedrock, and I found it was the firm and only foundation for my salvation.

It takes my breath away. Because it wasn’t so long ago.

God’s faithfulness gains immediacy, as annual events on my calendar remind me how different things are this time around. This time last year, I keep thinking; this time last year, this time last year…

Even as waves of depression and anxiety attempt to wash over me now, I am no longer a victim of their intimidation. The devil and his old tricks.

But O’ Lord, you have never failed me.

Things never happen the same way twice. That was then, and this is now.

So come what may, the lovely and the lousy: all is an additional blessing beyond the grave.


(see bridge – 4:05)

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