40 DAYS

 

(Part Three)

“City lights shine on the harbour, Night has fallen down,
Through the darkness and the shadow, I will still go on.
Long, long journey through the darkness,
Long, long way to go;
But what are miles across the ocean
To the heart that’s coming home?”
~ Eithne Ni Bhraonain / Nicky Ryan / Roma Ryan

“It is not objective proof of God’s existence that we want but…the experience of God’s presence.” ~ Frederick Buechner

I finished April Soul Food with these words, “My baptism, I believe, is when the Holy Spirit stopped hovering and started seriously meddling in my life. Did I not somehow say he could…?”

A person might think that with the experiences I shared, previously, that everything would be great for a little while, But, no! After my baptism, the Spirit drove me straight into the wilderness right into the middle of the mess of my own darkness.

A lightbulb turned on over my head as I began to make notes for writing this month. I remembered that Jesus was driven by the Spirit into the wilderness right after his Baptism. What might this mean for me? Some pondering required. Jesus was 40 days in the wilderness. The Israelites were 40 years wandering in the desert? If the number 40 does mean a long time, and if that long time was for formation and even transformation, then, I can begin to understand my own wilderness darkness in a new light.

Jesus was taken to the desert to confront temptations and to prepare for ministry. If that was what my wilderness experience was about, what did I confront? What were Jesus’ temptations? With what did he wrestle? Henri Nouwen said that, in the desert “he [Jesus] was tempted with the three compulsions of the world: to be relevant (“turn stones into loaves”), to be spectacular (“throw yourself down”)” and to be powerful (“I will give you all these kingdoms”). There he affirmed God as the only source of his identity (“You must worship the Lord your God and serve him alone”). In the desert, Jesus gave up control of himself, and his possible desires, to the will and plan of his Father. Hmm…

Almost as soon as we left Boulder, arrived at Ft. Benning and found a place to live, Dave had a temporary duty assignment in Oklahoma for three months for officer’s training. I was not able to go with him because I was five months pregnant with our fifth child. Since I would be due to deliver about the time Dave would be coming back to Georgia, and because there was always the question of whether I would get to the hospital in time, the doctors would not let me travel.

So, I was plopped down, alone, with four and 5/9ths children, knowing no one, having no friends, no support group, and no help. I didn’t know the way around town. I had never been alone like this before nor had I ever had this much responsibility. I was scared. The church was a long way across the city, but I did manage to get there, occasionally. The weather that summer in Georgia was terrible and I started to be afraid of storms and wind – something in Colorado that I rather liked. I also became terrified of tornadoes. Too much Wizard of Oz when I was a child, perhaps.

After three months, Dave came home, we moved onto the base, and I delivered child #5, a daughter. Dave was gone, constantly training soldiers to go to Viet Nam. Again, I had the home and child responsibility to myself. I developed a pretty severe case of post-partum depression, though I didn’t know that was my problem. I had never heard of it. My fear of storms intensified, and I began to have panic attacks. These didn’t go away for years, even after Dave got out of the military and we returned to Colorado.

Oh, there is another very important piece to this story. Dave left the army to finish his degree after which he planned to go to seminary and become ordained. Panic!! I knew that I wasn’t good enough to become a priest’s wife, and I didn’t want to live in a goldfish bowl, so I talked him out of it – for a season. God had other plans. But, I had another reason for God to be angry with me.

Dave and the kids started to go to church without me. I couldn’t leave the basement. I was afraid of God. Weird, huh? After my earlier experience of God, this doesn’t make sense. I knew God was chasing me, but I believed it was because I had done something wrong and not because of love. I still had the belief that God was a punishing God. Alcohol became my drug of choice. It was the only way I knew to keep the fear somewhat at bay, and I began to live in the basement watching out the windows to see if there was a tree leaf or a blade of grass moving. I tried to keep control – of my surroundings, my circumstances, my children, and myself. If bad things happened, it would be my fault. Storms and tornadoes might take me away from my family, hurt them, or damage our home. I wouldn’t be able to take care of them or anything else – a self-fulfilling prophecy as it turned out.

I was very depressed, so I eventually began therapy and began to understand myself, somewhat. The doctor diagnosed a stress induced chemical imbalance and we started working on that. After about five years, God dangled music in front of me and that got me out of the basement. Dave joined the choir and I thought, “Choir!” Maybe I can do that. God does have his ways and some major healing began. St. Stephen’s had a mid-week communion service which I attended in addition to the one on Sunday. I discovered that if I had communion twice a week I could stay above ground. If I didn’t, I couldn’t. My panic and depression began to recede, and I started to believe that God loved me.

It was a soul friend, last week, who reminded me that Jesus, in the desert, was faced with giving up control of himself to God. I’ve had to give up control issues, too, although they do rear their ugly head from time to time. I also had to get rid of the punishing God of childhood.

Um…aren’t I supposed to be writing my story about the Holy Spirit? Yes, I am. This is the long chapter.

Years later, my mother-in-law (who did not believe that the Holy Spirit was active in the world anymore – or so I thought) said to me, “Isn’t it funny that when the Holy Spirit gets hold of a person, it is like they have been slammed by a tornado?” Bingo!

This is the air I breathe. This is the air I breathe.
Your holy presence living in me.
This is my daily bread. This is my daily bread.
Your very Word spoken to me
And I, I’m desperate for you. And I, I’m lost without you.
This is the air I breathe. ~ Hillsong