What can I say?
I don’t know what is going on with my life right now. The air feels thinner up here. It’s getting harder to breathe, to see. Things are blurrier and I feel like I’m grasping at branches, stumbling and struggling through the woods.
At the beginning of the year, I told some friends that I felt like I was heading into a mountain season. I didn’t realize until now – and I continue to realize – how heavy that statement truly was.
I can’t place it. I can’t put a name to it. But it feels like every part of my life is suddenly harder. In continuation of my last post, I continue to struggle with a dysfunctional outlook on relationships with friends. I question things and I second-guess. As a result, I constantly feel unstable in the friendships I’ve grown into in recent months. I can’t seem to escape this and it frustrates me to no end.
Then, there’s my spiritual life. I feel dry and distant. God feels like a fading memory. I seem to be losing any motivation toward cultivating my spiritual life. Prayer seems like a chore. The only true solace I seem to find is in worship music.
And now, that has been stolen from me as well. Not permanently, of course. In recent days, I’ve fallen ill for the second time in the past two months. I’m making a quick recovery, but my daily ventures to the piano where I would engage in my own personal, private moments of worship have ceased as my voice is hoarse. This shall pass, though, and with it, I hope I may return to the piano.
Sometimes, I feel that worship does more for me than prayer. Perhaps it’s because I’m a worship leader at my very core and it’s how God and I communicate with each other. Whatever the reason, I shall hold onto it as my lifeline. It shall be the thing that keeps my sane.
This mountain season feels as any mountain season does: like I’m climbing and climbing, striving for a summit I can’t even see, as the air gets thinner and my body grows wearier. The ground gets steeper and I keep slipping, falling backwards. Two steps forward, one step back. Two steps forward, one step back. My lungs are desperate for a full breath of air and I’m panting for relief. The clouds surround me, blurring my vision. My footing is unsure. All I have to guide me is the rope to which I am attached – hope. Hope is my lifeline.
So, I shall climb. And I’ll climb. And I’ll climb some more. Because, one day, I will summit this giant and it shall be thrown into the sea.