10,000 Reasons... #9

Happy Sunday, readers!

Sundays always used to be very frustrating days for me. I was exhausted and never ready to get out of bed. Going to church was almost a painful experience. Either I would drag myself out of bed for Sunday School and be half-asleep by church time, or I would just go for church and still not be awake enough to sit upstairs with the congregation. Due to my many sound and light sensitivities, I opted for going to the physical church building but sitting in my dad's office with my laptop and listening to the live stream. 

I avoided people as much as possible. People required energy, and energy I didn't have. I felt like I was drugged from lack of sleep and just general spiritual lethargy. I wanted to be there, but I didn't. It was a pretty frustrating cycle.... 

In December I had experienced enough healing that I was able to start sitting upstairs during the church service. That was a milestone. I hadn't been doing that since... I don't know... April? I can't even remember when I stopped being able to sing and go to church. Maybe it's good that I don't remember. 

And then there were the haunting questions. "Do you really believe this? Can a God who put you through so much pain and suffering really love you? Why can't you feel Him anymore? Is this Bible true and reliable? What is real? Does any of it matter?" I wavered between cynicism and hope. I struggled, like Jacob, with God. I wrestled with living men, dead men (who wrote books), and maybe even angels. But God prevailed.... Or, I should say, is in the process of prevailing. I still struggle some times. I still rise up and challenge His authority. But I am seeing now. I know. The spiritual healing I've been longing for has begun, at long last, after months and months of darkness. I feel whole. 

I now am interacting on an almost-normal level with fellow church-goers. But I still hadn't been able to sing. It just took too much energy. And with the dark spiritual paths my soul was wandering down, to be honest I didn't really want to. I didn't want to casually affirm what I wasn't certain was true. 

Now, that has changed. And last Sunday, I sang. 

And it was beautiful. Not because I have a great voice. In fact, after not singing for so long, it was pretty wobbly and horrible. What was beautiful was that... it was hardly me. I mean, it was my voice. It was my lungs. And I got plenty tired out. But I wasn't singing like I used to... to show off my harmonies, to stretch my voice, to exercise my vocal chords. I was singing because it was... it was a well... springing up inside of me. And I couldn't hold it in. I didn't even think before I started to sing, I just did it. Automatically. Naturally. Spontaneously. 

Because our God is worthy of being sought,

~Camille

Edited using Pixlr.