Night after night, day after day and nap after nap, I’d wake up in pure disarray. The torment, the anguish and deeply routed hurt had seeped into my sleep. The only place I could find peace… the only time my eyes could remain dry… the only break I had from my pitiful existence was now infected with disease. It used to be that I was proud to be a “dreamer.” I was excited and honored, proud even that God spoke to me through dreams. I felt this was my only connection to Him and the only time I felt important to Him. I just knew it had to be Him and there was no doubt about it. But oh no, not now! THIS is just not what I wanted. I was scared to be awake, scared to be asleep and scared to move on.
“There was just no way out of this thing. There was no way to escape my pitiful, meaningless existence on this earth. “I’m SO tired. No wait. I’m beyond tired! My SOUL is exhausted. God when? Just when is this EVER going to end? Where is the peace? I give up, I’ve had it! I’m DONE trying to live for You! I’m tired of trying to love the people that hate me… these same people that You say I HAVE to love! I’m tired of trying to be a child of God! I’m here Lord before You, praying, worshipping and praising Your name… and YET, You allow the enemy to raise hell in my life.” I screamed out. Anguish had struck me with a vengeance and I was instantly filled with rage. When I was done yelling out to the heavens, I sat covered in shame; realizing that I had just unleashed total fury into the atmosphere towards my Heavenly Father. All the questions and pinned up frustrations boiled over. How did I get to this point? Hesitation kept my butt glued in the seat of my car. There it is. That brown brick building with the banner that read, “The Philadelphia Prayer Clinic Church”. As I contemplated my reason for being there, the enemy began to speak. “Don’t go in, it’s just a waste of time. God doesn’t hear your prayers and He doesn’t care about you. Look at you. You’re pitiful. What’s going to change? Just stay out here and hate God. Hate Him for all the lies that he has told you. Hate Him for all the things he allowed to happen to you. Hate Him for lying about healing and restoring your marriage…” It went on and on until my head was spinning.
Somehow, I mustered up the strength to go inside. Service was just a blur to me that day, just as it had been for the past few weeks. I still had not come back to myself. I was so lost in the pit of my pain that nothing seemed like reality. Pastor Byrd was on the organ and he was leading praise & worship service. I remember everyone being up and singing, dancing and praising God. Zaniyah, my oldest child grabbed my hand and tried to engage me but I snatched back from her and I almost ran out the door, but I couldn’t move. I was stuck. “Just get up and go sit in your car. Why are you in here?” The voice kept ringing in my ear. “Get up… Go, just go.” I knew I was in trouble and I needed a way of escape. Again, the fist clenched tight. I just sat there, still, with my head hanging low…..the voice became more aggressive and more insistent. “Go to your car, go to your car now just go!” Just as I got ready to stand up and run out Elder Sebina came over and grabbed my arm and she pulled me up out of my seat. I could hear her voice singing directly in my ear. I closed my eyes because I was ashamed. Ashamed that I was in such a place and couldn’t help myself out of it. Suddenly, there was hands tapping on my back slightly pushing me forward. Immediately I recognized the voice. It was Co-Pastor Eric. He was praying in the spirit as he tapped away. At some point we had reached the altar. By this time Elder Sebina (To be continued…)
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