Welcome to Day 3 of #write31days!
For more information check out the series’ page.
I was doing too much, my back and my wrists had been telling me for months. Studying, preparing congresses and camps, typing thousands of words per day. Sleeping too little and eating at unhealthy times.
Thinking I could do it all.
When I look back I sometimes marvel how I managed to do as much as I did. I guess a good portion of adrenaline and a great amount of God’s grace strengthened and saw me through.
When I look back I always knew it all had to come to an end some day. Sooner or later.
Over New Year’s I could see the congress I’d been working on for a year come to life – what an experience! Despite a lack of sleep and constant running I got to know the sweetest people who blessed me with their work, their jokes, and their encouragement. I was worn out, but I was happy.
Right after I had to get back to my books and study for my finals. Five years of studies came to an end with written and oral exams in February and April. I couldn’t complain about the results.
I was done. The stress was over. I could get back to my life.
A week after finals I went to lead a TCK camp. No matter how exhausted or busy I was, these camps had always been a time to refresh and have fun. These people were my second family.
But this time it was different. I came completely empty, not ready to give anything. Nothing.
When it was time to meet and have fun, I wanted to run and be alone. When it was time to dig into the Word and talk about it, I wondered if all of this even made sense. I had my facade ready to show off, but behind it there was emptiness. Nothing.
I started leading worship, trying to brush over it with music, but I couldn’t.
Instead of adoration there was disgust.
Instead of love there was hatred. For the people in front of me, for the musicians next to me, for the words of the songs that meant nothing to me at the moment.
I had to get out.
So I did. I cut the song short, got up from the piano and ran.
In tears. Horrified by who I was at that moment. That stranger in my skin I didn’t know anymore.
I lost it that day.
The strength to go any further.
The passion for what I love to do.
The love and emotional energy to give to others.
The ability to let others pour into me.
The eyes to see how wonderful the world is.
The heart that seeks the Lord in good and bad times.
Yet, I somehow mustered up the courage to tell a friend about it. It was good to hear, “You’re not alone in this. It’s time to stop and rest. It’s time to change.”
She was right. Something had to change.
Have you ever felt like you ‘lost’ it? In what circumstances was it more difficult for you to feel passion and energy for God, other people, or your job?