When the lights went out in Richmond last week, I wasn't entirely surprised. I've heard God for awhile, telling me it was time to turn down the noise. Time to sit quietly again. Time to make more room for His quiet voice to come to the surface without His having to bludgeon me over the head with what I needed to hear.
But when depression is tailing you, its hard to heed even His call. You sit on the couch and don't get off for hours. The likelihood that this will happen increases exponentially when chemo is in the picture and you're tired and achy. Moving from your moss green chenille rectangle of a world becomes nearly impossible. Nevermind cutting off the Netflix.
So when I wasn't listening, God turned off the power for awhile.
How am I so sure it was Him? In my nearly six years in this house I have lost power for a total of one hour. Until last week, when it went out for five days.
I don't think this was a coincidence.
* * *
The quiet doesn't only let God be heard more clearly, but the enemy too.
And while the power was out, the enemy decided to remind me of a conversation I hadn't thought about in quite awhile.
I think you need to start coming to peace with the fact that this may very well be all God has for you - that he means for you to be a single, childless, attorney, and there is no bigger plan.
This was the response a new therapist gave me after I told her I felt strongly that God was preparing me for something. That I was trying to wait patiently for those plans to be revealed. That I was confident that God used our pain for His glory in His time.
Obviously, she didn't agree.
Her voice rang in my head, over and over and over, without the power there to let me drown her out.
What if she was right? What if this is it?
* * *
The last time I played the chemo game, the new path I was meant to take was revealed to me pretty quickly. By round three I was studying for the LSAT and plotting my legal career. But this time? Nothing.
I have no idea what God is trying to do here.
And it scares me a little that maybe there is nothing.
Maybe this life is all there is.
* * *
Throughout the last three months - as I felt myself bombarded with more pain than it seems any human should be required to endure at one time - I've held onto the fact that God has plans to redeem all of this. That somewhere down the road I would be able to look back and see this time as a pivotal point in my journey - a time that I needed to wade through in order to fulfill my real purpose here.
But in the blackness that settled in during the power outage, in the quiet that finally overwhelmed me, I couldn't help but wonder - what if that isn't true?
What if this is what He has for me?
What do I do then?