I just want my husband back, I thought as I stomped up the road and tried to make sense of the journey we had been walking. It was day two of EMDR therapy for my husband’s PTSD and anxiety. I wasn’t seeing many improvements despite the fact that we felt like God opened every door for this counselor to work with Jared in this time.
I was fuming. I was exhausted from the roller coaster of emotion. I was weary of carrying the load for our family for the past eight weeks. I was done with the fear over whether my husband might be up all night again, have another panic attack, and leave me to provide for myself and our six sons while he was on medical sabbatical from work. To top it all off, in the midst of his crisis, our family had downsized and moved into a smaller house. Stress was eating me. Anger rose in my soul. It was all so unfair.
Sanctuary
Four blocks down the road, I saw a steeple. Making a beeline for that church, I ached for a sense of closeness to God; my heart felt so abandoned. I looked up at that cross with tears in my eyes. “Do you even see me? Do you even care?” I slowly circled through the path in the courtyard and around the front of the building. Feeling lost in the shadows, I stepped back to the brick wall up front and sat down.
This Crisis
This crisis wasn’t something I asked for. I never expected this would happen to us. My husband was the strong one. Sure, he had experienced and seen hard things in his career as a morgue assistant and now as a paramedic firefighter, but he handled it well. Or so I thought. Until one day, the life stress of our move, our overcommitment, the unexpected death of his grandfather, and a tough call at work all piled up and sent him into a crisis of adrenaline overdrive, insomnia, panic, and anxiety.
Eight weeks had passed—weeks of chaos, unknowns, kids being shipped to caregivers and back home because of daddy’s instability, not knowing when the next wave of panic might hit or how hard. Would he be present? Or would he get that distant look in his eyes, turn inward, and need me to help him through the struggle?
Finding him curled up in the corner shaking in fear terrified me. Hearing him wrestle with dark thoughts, hopelessness, and brief thoughts of suicidal escape had me near panic, but I knew I couldn’t be weak. I had to hold it all together. Would we get through this? Would he be able to return to work? Would I ever feel safe or protected or able to be vulnerable again?
Strange Juxtaposition
I sat on that brick wall, gazing at the ornately carved church doors. The building rang of history, being near one hundred twenty years old. I imagined the people coming to seek God, to draw close. The strange juxtaposition of my heart surprised me. I was angry at God for forcing my hand, as it seemed to me, down this path of mental illness. I wanted to yell at God. I wanted to scream out how I felt so abandoned, so alone. And at the same moment, I wanted to collapse weeping into His loving arms. I needed Him to hold me. I needed to feel His nearness like I never have before. I needed to know it was all going to be okay.
Lead me to the Cross
I felt a nudge in my heart and a tune float through my head. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, and quickly looked up Hillsong UNITED “Lead me to the Cross”.
Savior I come. Yes, I was ready to come. I couldn’t do this on my own anymore.
Quiet my soul, remember. I felt a hush grow over my heart as I focused my eyes on that cross high above my head. Yes, I needed to remember.
Getting Personal
Throughout my husband’s crisis, I had been forced to run to Jesus like I never had before. Growing up in a Christian home, I could recite verses about so many truths on God’s character, his consistency, his comfort. But even though I knew these verses intellectually, I hadn’t personalized them.
Woven in and out of the Epistles, a special word is used numerous times - “knowledge.” This word is “gnosis” in Greek and means personal and experiential knowledge (See Ephesians 3:19, Colossians 1:10, 2 Peter 1:3). This form of knowing was not simply passed down information from one person to another. It wasn’t simply understanding or even believing. It went even deeper than that. This knowing was where the rubber met the road, where the truths in God’s word went from words on a page that I chose to believe to words that the Holy Spirit made personal to me.
In the darkest of moments, when my husband would cycle his thoughts, pacing through the house in a panic, I would find myself curled up in my chair with tears streaming down my face crying out to Jesus. Hold me, Papa. My husband can’t right now. I am so scared. I feel so alone. I would just sit. I would be still. I would be held. And the Holy Spirit would whisper to my heart.
You are never alone! You are never alone! You are never alone!
And when my husband would feel threatened and be afraid of personal threat, I would feel frightened too. Again, I would curl up asking Jesus to hold me. Papa, I’m scared. My husband is scared. I don’t feel safe. And Jesus would comfort me.
You are always safe! You are always safe! You are always safe!
When the journey continued over the course of days and weeks with no end in sight, I cried out to Jesus and asked how long I must endure. Will this never end? Is there even hope? And Jesus whispered tenderly.
There is always hope. There is always hope. There is always hope!
Those three statements became what I clung to in the following weeks leading up to the EMDR therapy. God had gotten personal with me, reminding me that he was a personal God and that his truths were true for me too! I am never alone! I am always safe! There is always hope!
New Truth
In this moment, I heard His gentle whisper once again. Remember, Hannah. You are never alone! You are always safe! There is hope! Yet I felt like there was more God wanted to make personal in this moment.
He pointed his finger at my heart. I valued justice, and in my anger, I wanted my husband to know how deeply he had wounded me. Jesus gently reminded me that He is the one who judges justly, and that all would give an account one day – my husband for the mistakes he made and myself for the ways I chose to hold onto anger and bitterness. But there was another option. Hannah, entrust your journey to me. Justice will be done!
All of the pain, all of the tears and sorrow, all of the fears, all of the ways I had given (and many of the ways I had not), they were not forgotten. God had been present each moment of this crisis, each moment of my life. And I could rest in the fact that in eternity, all would come to light. Each will be rewarded according to what he has done. My efforts were not in vain. Even if my husband didn’t see what I had done, even if he never said thank you, even if I felt taken for granted for the rest of my life, God knew. When I felt the certainty of the unfairness of it all, I could rest in the fact that God greatly valued the suffering I was experiencing, and one day if I remained faithful and trusted my just judge, all would be made right!
Justice will be done! There is hope! You are always safe! You are never alone!
My friends, I pray that God will make himself known (gnosis) personally to you, wherever you are, whatever your struggle. May the Lord bless you and keep you, may He be gracious to you and turn his face toward you, and may He give you peace. Amen and Amen!
