Would I forget what they looked like? Would I have to assume
that my daughter looks lovely, or my sons handsome, on their wedding days?
Would I have to tenaciously hang onto fading memories of the glories I had seen
in watching the sun rise and descend in its daily march?
There is a brutal torture in having seen and loved what will
never be seen again. I would now have to adapt to life in the shadows with
large, looming realities and dangers that exist to be painfully reckoned with,
but without the sight to avoid. What would I become? Why would God let this
happen to me?
To make a torturously long story short, I was convinced for
credible reasons that I would be diagnosed
Monday morning with glaucoma. Glaucoma is a serious, incurable eye
condition that eventuates in blindness as a cruel blackness creeps from the
fray of peripheral vision to the center until the blackness closes in
completely. I had the symptoms, according to that devious and debilitating
online tool of the devil, WebMD. For those who already struggle with worry and
see in their mind’s eye vividly clear visions of the worst case scenario, WebMD
is faithful to fill in the gloomy details of your “sure” future life of
suffering.
Fifteen hours would pass from the point that I went offline
with WebMD and my dreaded ophthalmology appointment on Monday morning. I was
convinced that I was going blind. I may as well have been blind in those
fifteen hours.
The Epicenter of Worry
Worry is torment. I do not consider myself a worrier by
nature. It doesn’t make the cut of my top 5 list of besetting sins. Yet, I
believe that everyone falls on the spectrum of worry somewhere.
We all, under the right circumstances, will worry about
something because there is so much to
worry about in this fragile and fallen world. Will my kids make it? What kind
of world will they face? Will we have enough money to retire? Will I ever feel
better? Will the chemo work? Will this conflict ever end in reconciliation?
Will my spouse change? Will I change? Will God be faithful? I could go on.
To live in the epicenter of worry is to feel like you have
fallen into a trap that has both enclosed you and is continuing to close in on
you, with no exit signs posted. It feels inescapable whether we try to claw our
way out, or simply sink down in defeat.
The things that we obsess, lose sleep, and wring our hands
over always seem so plausible and certain to us. We attempt to alleviate our
worst fears by reminding ourselves that it is only possible that they be
realized; but then again, they may not come to pass. This kind of rationalizing
rarely works because the nature of worry hedges it bets on the worst case
scenario!
Our emotions may spin out of control as our minds race to
formulate plans to counter this dreaded future we are certain we face. We have fallen
into the trap of worry, and the details of our future are closing in on us.
Hope is as thin as the air in this claustrophobic trap. How do we fight our way
out?
The Missing Person
The problem with this
tragic tale of woe that we are embracing is the missing person in our fateful
futures. God is never there with us! It is only me/us inescapably contending
with the brutal realities of our impossible circumstances, without support,
without resources and without hope. Yet, can this reality ever be true for the
believer? When God said, “I will never leave you or forsake you,” did He really
mean what He said?
Some of the most comforting,
perspective-gaining, endurance-producing words in Scripture are the
words, “I will be with you.” God, the all-powerful, sovereign, Lord of all, who
unquestionably maintains, sustains and controls every last thing in this entire
universe is speaking. And what does He say? He says, as a promise, from a God
who cannot lie or change His mind, that He will be (not might be, not
conditioned upon our meeting certain criterion) with us. He covenants to be
with us, His very own, dearly loved children whom He loves with an everlasting
love.
How can we be sure of His love and watchful care over us in
the futures we face? We can look to the cross for assurance. Romans 8:32 says,
“He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will he not
also with him graciously give us all things?” If He gave His very own Son, will
He not continue to be faithful in whatever future He has prepared for us? He
will be with us in that future, giving all that is necessary for life and
godliness (2 Peter 1:3). This is bedrock, unchanging, hope-filled truth to
cling to as you fight your way out of the trap of worry.
“I will be with you.” As I faced my ophthalmology
appointment on Monday morning, those were my “fighting words” in my battle with
worry. Faith is never an easy fight. As it turns out, I am not going blind. I
have chronic dry eye disease from making too few of my apparently handicapped
tears. I left with a small bottle of artificial tears and a large gift of faith
from my larger-than-life God who will always be with me.
“I will be with you.” He meant what He said. What do those words do to your worry? How
do they change your outlook on the
future?
_________________________________________________________________________________
This blog was first posted at http://biblicalcounselingcoalition.org/blogs/2012/11/14/15-hours-of-blindness-the-snare-of-worry/
No comments:
Post a Comment