Bipolar Life-The Journal, #19

Confession through written word.

Over the past several weeks I shut down. When every breath feels like a freaking chore, you stop. I was there. When I arrived at that place of being done, I slowly became angry. Little by little my words began to follow in this rhythm of telling God like it is, and forgetting daily, who He is. As each word I put out there reflected back to me, I began a strange encounter with, well, me.

The last two days have been more therapy than I could have paid for in a month. Tonight was unexpected, welcomed, and overwhelming.

I was at a ministry meeting when the topic was handed over to one of the ladies. Without missing a beat, she began informing us of our “Healing Ministry” program. She wanted to make her message memorable (or God did), and she shared a bit of a story with us. I can’t tell you many details of the beginning or the end; but the middle has my mind running on a treadmill.

“Are you sitting on the throne meant for God?”

Stunned by those words, with feelings of conviction and truth, I am not sure I heard anything else.

I live a life in faith. It is imperative that I hold tight to that gift every step of the way. Even if it slides up and down on the faith scale, it must remain in tact. Considering the anger, defeat, and emotional disaster I’ve slid myself into lately, I fear only one thing-

That I have systematically removed God from his throne and planted my rear end stubbornly in His place.

I have support in my corner. Giving me affirmations of my feelings, joining me in my anger, encouraging me for being the human I am. I appreciate every word, every praise, every heartfelt ‘I got your back, sister’ kindness. I know each one in my circle certainly does! Truth is, not one of the people in this world will ever love me like Jesus does.

Today I stand taller than yesterday. It is by sheer love and grace that God reached in to the deepest parts of my spirit and called me off his chair. However, it was by deeper love than I can imagine that God reached in when I wouldn’t move and yanked me off His throne. When I missed the subtle hint of move, he may have shouted, “You better get yourself out of my chair, child!”

I am perfectly comfortable in this humble position. Honestly, I love it. It is here in this place, being put in my place, that I draw closer into His space.

His throne is not meant for my anger, pain, depression, anxiety, fear, or defiance. When I am wrong, I choose to admit my shortcomings. Not always a popular character trait, especially in today’s world. Satan isn’t fond of submission. He speaks lies into this world that to submit is to be weak, to be a mouse, to be a failure.

Again, today I stand tall. I am a little stronger and wiser. I am indeed disciplined for my own well-being, my mental health well-being. Now, with comfort in my soul, and peace I may never understand, I can move ahead.

Nothing changed, folks. I do not know what tomorrow will bring. I have no earthly clue what lies ahead. My emotions will continue to play rough on the slip and slide.

The only sure thing in this life is the end. I know that part, the rest I leave to God as I bow at His throne.

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