Supply of the Eyes

It’s amazing how your eyes can produce a seemingly never ending supply of tears. A couple days ago, I think I literally cried for the entire day; whenever they dried up and I started to calm down, a single thought would send another round of sobs my way.

You see, a few lessons ago, I mentioned having sent out book proposals to publishers. Throughout the years, I’ve had volunteers (pastors, counselors, and author friends) read over Fear Fighting, and while their feedback has always been constructive and encouraging, I didn’t expect to get a book deal from any publishers right away.

I mean, this is my first round of submissions, so I fully anticipated rejection.

But not obliteration.

Simply put, they hate it. They say that no one has time for all my chatter, I talk too much about myself, am undesirable because people would rather read books written by experts, and yeah.

I’ve spent the last six days feeling like I’ve wasted the last two and a half years of my life. The project that I’ve absolutely loved writing—that’s been Jesus and my labor of love, resulting in our deepening relationship—is apparently a big, boring diatribe that no one will care to buy.

Nevertheless, we shall press on. Cry and rant and rage and keep moving forward.

At least, that’s what I aim to do. As it turns out, I can’t seem to make it more than a few hours without escalating myself into another anxiety attack, making moving forward virtually impossible. Because what if no one will publish me? And what if I can’t garner an adequate social media following to even be considered by literary agents (as it turns out, they don’t take you seriously without one)? And what if—

I could go on (‘cause there’s about twenty thousand more thoughts racing through my mind) but you don’t need to be bogged down by all that. You have your own stuff to deal with.

We all have stuff, as it so happens. Which means we all have stress.

Thus, here’s the Tip that I’m desperately trying to remind myself of: when stuff hits you out of nowhere and you feel like you can barely breathe, let alone continue on with normal life … give yourself permission to grieve.

If you’re not functioning at your peak performance—can’t seem to move forward since you need to slow down and process all this stuff around you—that’s perfectly understandable because you’re a person, not a robot.

Stress can make us act out in a variety of ways (I’m flip-flopping between stuffing myself with junk food, punching all the pillows on my bed, and compulsively picking my dry skin), and we can work to be aware of—and resist—the harmful reactions without condemning ourselves for having them. It takes a while to rewire our brains' thought patterns, and when sudden stress comes a-knocking, our fear-fighting efforts can be usurped by the mindsets and coping mechanisms we’re trying so hard to overcome.

This is normal.

This is the reality of being a fallen human living in a fallen, sinful world.

And this is already forgiven:

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:1, NIV).

“For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him” (John 3:17, NIV).

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Cor 5:17, NIV).

“When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross” (Col 2:13-14, NIV).

Friends, human eyes may have a seemingly endless supply of tears, but the Son of Man’s eyes have a truly endless supply of grace.

Instead of beating ourselves up for freaking out, lashing out, and living in a spirit of fear instead of trusting Him … maybe we can apologize and aim to get back on track by fixing our eyes on His loving ones. His mercies are new every morning, so even when we feel like our old selves, we are still His new creation (Lam 3:22-23, NIV).

By His cross, we are His beloved children, and that will never change (John 15:13, NIV).