Since leaving the hospital over a year ago, I've learned that I heal best when two things are involved: first and foremost, trusting God in His healing powers and promise, and second, it is integral that I talk about my feelings and not bottle them up.
With that said, I will just come right and honestly say that marriage has been terrifying. Now, this does not in any way reflect the idea that my amazing husband is a monster or some jerk. In fact, what I'm about to write will prove just the opposite.
Something that I've recently been struggling with is God's role in my recovery. It's important to note that I have changed, dramatically, since meeting Doug. Since I was a little girl, I grew up in a church. I went to Sunday School, attended Vacation Bible School, went on mission trips local and far away (prior to Zambia), and thought I was a Christian. That label was wrong, though, because as I got older I drew away from Christ. I only called out to Him when I was in trouble, and turned away when things were good. I partied, got myself in stupid situations, and craved rebellion. I was the typical hypocrite who talked like I was a "friend" of Jesus on Sunday, but had stayed out late drinking the Friday and Saturday night before. God didn't give up on me, not at all, even when I was angry at Him for allowing me to be placed in so many dangerous situations. He patiently watched me, lovingly leading me right where I needed to be in order to meet Doug, a man that would lay down his life every day of our marriage so as to make me holy and clean for Christ. When I met Doug, all of our conversations centered on Jesus- ALL of them. I didn't notice it at first, but I was changing. Before long, my best friend was jokingly calling me a "super crazy religious person," and people were starting to talk differently around me. At work, I would find myself in the middle of conversations about God and who He was to my coworkers. I traveled to Zambia and shared the Gospel to my precious orphan girls. It was as if my life suddenly reflected Ezekiel 36:25-26. The more I noticed it, the more I got excited. I hadn't had panic attacks in a while, my fears at night had calmed down, and Doug made me feel safe in his arms. I started to think that all my scars were gone for good, and that I would never have to deal with any of it ever again.
I was wrong.
It was naive of me to think that by Jesus changing my heart, He would make me invisible to the scars from my past. It's not like He would wave a magic wand and make them all vanish- in fact, that would only make things worse for me. So when the night terrors returned, the panic attacks crippled me, and all the stupid thoughts began to flood my head of, "Doug is going to leave me because I'm a mess," I was confused. I felt myself slip a bit, and anger rise in my chest towards God. Thankfully, Doug knows me well enough to ask me if I'm okay, when he knows full and well that I'm not. The other night, I had a huge panic attack- the kind that twists my body into a fetal position and makes it hard to breathe. It was late at night, and Doug had to get up really early in the morning for work. He awoke immediately and held me, praying earnestly for help, healing, and what he needed to do to help me. After being stuck in our apartment for over two weeks, my mind had festered, and anxiety and fears had crept in. Doug stayed up with me, allowing my body and mind to calm down, which finally giving me breathe to talk. I mentioned my confusion about all of these scars coming back . . . why had God not removed them? He pointed out several things. 1) The devil hates our marriage, and will try in any way possible to destroy it. 2) I should cast all my anxiety and fears on Jesus. and 3) just because my heart is changed, that does not mean that I no longer have to deal with evil, in fact, it's just the opposite.
Crawling back in bed, I began praying for peace with this knowledge. I also asked for guidance as to how to appropriately deal with the anxiety, as it was now clear that it had definitely not vanished. The next day, on a long drive to Katy, I had a very deep conversation with Jesus. I was listening to a mix of John Mark McMillan, Esterlyn, and Phil Wickham., when this one song, "Seen a Darkness" by John Mark McMillan, came on that really hit me.
We have seen a darkness
But we have seen a light
We have felt the love
Of a hope's hot blood
In the machinery of night
...
You have called us loved
And You have called us wanted
One time we were bruised
We were broken and haunted
Those lyrics just reminded me of how well Jesus knows me. He knows what reaches me best, and it's music. The song pointed out two things to me, the first was how even though I am broken and bruised, Jesus picked me and loves me unconditionally, and the second was the very same about my husband. Doug has said several times when he courted me and in our marriage that love is a choice- you choose who you love, and he chose me. I am blessed with both a close and honest relationship with my Saviour and my heroic husband, the very goofy yet blunt Douglas Jones.
I know that I will continue to struggle in my marriage with trust and feeling safe because of what I have gone through, but each time it gets hard, I will always have Christ there to comfort me and strengthen me, as well as a husband who will remind me of that fact when I forget.
Phillipians 4:6-7 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
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