~ Finding God in the Impossible ~

Miracles. Do you believe in them? Of course you believe. Have you ever asked for one? Of course you have. Do they ever happen? Of course they do.

“What are miracles?” you might ask. Miracles are interventions that can only be explained as God’s handiwork. Miracles are wanted, sought, and needed. We often wonder, though, where they are and when they will happen. Miracles exist, but I wonder if we ever notice them. I suspect this very day you experienced a miracle. I suspect I experienced one or more. In fact, when I look back at days past, I believe I have experienced too many to count. More miracles than I could notice, perceive, or even comprehend.

When Jesus walked this earth, He poured out miracles, and He did so to people just like you and me. People who are broken and weak. People who can only barely live until a very mighty God comes in and intervenes in a very mighty way. These interventions may seem small, but to those who experience the miracle, they are mighty, majestic, and amazing.

♦ ◊ ♦

For the past two years, I can say miracles have visited me each day. At the time during these days, I couldn’t quite detect the miracles, but they were within me alive and working. The handiwork of God was alive and working.

These special miracles got my attention when one day too much work and worry sabotaged my mind. As I was driving to work one Friday morning, my breathing was rapid, my pulse more so. Head swirling, eyes dimming, sweat in the armpits, shaky hands on the steering wheel. My mind had latched on to the stress of the previous months like it was a monthly subscription. I couldn’t let go even though I was losing control in the mental whirlwind. Yes, it was a panic attack.

I pulled over to the shoulder, slammed on the brakes, and rolled down the windows – just in case I passed out and a window needed to be smashed. I was unable to calm myself down and called for an ambulance. They came quickly and began a series of breathing exercises that worked temporarily. While my vitals became somewhat better, I was not fully calmed, so they scooted me off to the ER for more precise treatment that morning. In brief, I received the medical attention I needed that September day and checked in a few times afterward with my GP to monitor my anxiety and panic attacks. I even made sure to be honest with loved ones about my struggles and stayed connected with them and other friends to help encourage me.

In the midst of a mental health challenge, God was working through miracles.

I returned the following Monday morning to my car at 6:30 am about to drive the 1 hour commute on the same road my panic attack happened. Although the drive was just a drive along a very familiar highway, it was the drive where my panic attack occurred, and I was terrified that another panic attack would happen. I had taken the meds as instructed, but I was not calm. How was I to get to work? As a high school teacher, I loved my school and students and colleagues and subject matter. That wonderful world was waiting, but this 1 hour barrier caused so much uncontrollable fear in me.

That Monday morning, I drove the first 20 minutes with no problem. Then I reached the first grain elevator, and I realized I had another 40 minutes, and the feelings of panic rose up. I listened to music that calmed me and I drove on. Another 20 minutes passed with off and on feelings of panic, and I arrived at the nearest town on the way. My fingers tapped on the steering wheel as I counted to help me focus my thoughts away from panic. The feelings were still lingering just at the surface. I breathed and tapped, breathed and tapped. A red light helped me slow down and breathe and tap.

The next leg of the journey would take me by the spot that I had stopped three days before. I feared driving 75, so I putted along at 65. My phone rested beside me, and I knew my wife was just a button away. But, I had to push through. As I neared that pasture, panic effervesced and bubbled just under the surface and sought to blow like a volcano. But then, a new thought, a good thought came to my mind – that spot of highway, that shoulder, that ditch was holy ground.

♦ ◊ ♦

Living with anxiety disorder is a battle to not be ignored. Fortunately, it’s not every day I get up a bundle of anxiety. Most days and months and years have been rather good. However, some days and some situations are not. For example, I can teach a mob of restless teenagers with pure enjoyment and no anxiety at all, but I do get highly anxious easily about having to have 1 vial of blood drawn.

But God does not abandon. His working in my mind is a miracle. No matter the hardship I suffered that day, God worked to reshape my thinking. Fears, whether rooted in place or experience, are used and ordained by God to turn my attention to His ways and His working in my life. That holy ground reminded me that God was present and what was planted in my mind was a miracle.

♦ ◊ ♦

During the morning drives of that September, I fought the returning anxiety and panic attacks with a variety of means. The afternoon drive was much easier since I felt like I was fleeing stress. In the mornings, however, I had to employ some ways to help battle the anxiety:

◊ asking my wonderful wife to pray for me each morning

◊ focusing on breathing and tapping which led me to recite the words of “Jesus Loves Me” to the beat of the 4-finger tap. I love how it always ends with the last syllable on my pinky.

◊ listening to uplifting music that calmed me and focused my thoughts on God

◊ visualizing my parking spot in front of the high school

◊ feeling for my phone and rescue med as a reminder that “help is on the way!” if I needed

I made it through the remainder of September and to the first week of October without having to pull over. Each morning in my parking spot, I climbed out, quivering and quaking, and thanked God for bringing me safely on that morning drive, which was no less than a mighty miracle.

Arriving at that autumn milestone, I realized that I had 3 more months before Christmas. Despite feeling somewhat better, panic prowled just a minute or two away in a den of awful thoughts and fear. I needed something with power to keep my mind off the fear of the drive and fear of another panic attack. Two things came to mind: prayer and Narnia.

There’s power in prayer, and that’s no cliché. True prayer is true power. Driving with God in the front seat and consuming the mind is what I needed. How wonderful and powerful it is to let God take control of this runaway mind and see how wonderful He is! In prayer, those panicky feelings fizzled like half-drunk 6 month old Dr. Pepper tucked away at the back of the fridge and forgotten. More of Him helped me focus away from my self-centered self. Reminding myself of other prayers written down by saints of the past, such as the Psalms, proved to be mind-controlling – not mind numbing. With a mind in control by the Lord, mental health is at it’s best.

During the morning drive, I memorized a prayer list. I followed a prayer framework built on the acronym ACTS: Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication. My desire was to begin with words of praise to God because He had truly done so many great things in my life. Following, I confessed my endless list of sins, which was a struggle because as I thought about all my imperfections, my mind returned to those mess ups. Replaying those not happy moments battered my mind. I found myself driving along with my thoughts off on some dumb day from a year or two or ten ago. After shaking myself to focus, I implored God to take away the gut punch I felt those moments. Confession to Him equals forgiveness. Then, I could focus on giving words of thanks for the countless good things God had given me and my family. From my wife and kids to the car I drove to the student from 10 years ago who sent me a message, I had and still have much to be thankful for. Lastly, I memorized my supplications, making sure to praise and thank God for answering past needs and not treat Him like Santa Claus with a never ending list of “gimme, gimme, gimmes.” As the months followed, God answered prayer needs with enduring faithfulness and gentleness.

Secondly, I grew rather bored of listening to a handful of soothing songs. They were so very helpful at the time and still are powerful, but I wanted something else like changing from vanilla ice-cream to chocolate, something still heaven focused and able to deliver me to a safe place mentally. As a child, I loved the escape that books brought, and the greatest escape I had ever found was taking numerous trips to the land of Narnia. My first step was a quick trip to the library to get the Narnia audio books. As I drove, I listened and let the power of Narnia take me to a new world via magic rings found in a musty London attic. My eyes saw a burning lantern with Lucy and teared with Susan at the Stone Table. These images inspired me to ride a talking horse to Archenland while Aslan walked beside me. Then, I surveyed the ruins of Cair Paravel with Peter and Edmund and boarded the Dawn Treader with Caspian my young king. Crawling through the dark caverns with the Marshwiggle gave me courage to fight my battles before walking through a strange wooden doorway into Paradise. Heaven reached down and touched my mind – a miracle.

Naturally, I couldn’t stop this mode of deliverance. Bilbo Baggins called and beckoned I join him on his adventure. I couldn’t help but acquiesce to travel the dangerous path with a dwarf pack and face Smaug and orcs and goblins. Later, his nephew Frodo visited me one day at the library and suggested I take him along on my daily drive and I did. I befriended the noble hobbit with gusto and embraced Sam and the others in one tight fellowship. With Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and the other lovable and mighty warriors, I saw the evil of Middle Earth tamed as towers fell, monsters lay slain, and orc armies destroyed. Righteousness prevailed in my mind’s eye. I saw the king rise from his throne and with the host kneel in honor of Frodo and his company. Peace reigned in the Shire, a lasting and comforting peace. These adventures brought me to a golden yuletide and then January arrived.

The daily miracle was no less miraculous with each passing day. The drive did get easier, but still some frightening moments followed that winter and spring. I saw a car lose control and flip over. On another day, police rerouted traffic to the small farm-to-market roads after a car smashed into a fully loaded cattle truck. The lady died at the scene. Another young woman crashed her car into another vehicle and died in her car on another day. I drove on days when winds gusted over 50 mph and tossed truck and car and cow alike along the highway. Snowy days slowed the drive significantly. One wintry morning, a surprise dumping of snow added 30 minutes to the one hour drive. On all these trips to and fro, I climbed out of the car embraced by the miracle. God led me through a valley of fear and brought me safely to where I needed to be. Miracle upon miracle.

After Spring Break, I felt the downward pull of Spring. Not an emotional downward pull, but the delightful feeling of sliding down a snow-covered hill. The end was in sight. Surely all would be well. My doctor encouraged me to wean away from the daily anxiety meds so that I could focus on lasting ways to reduce anxiety and prevent panic attacks. I was eager to get away from the meds because I didn’t want to be entrapped. Of course, there is a place and time for meds, but not forever. My desire was to drive up to school without the meds and acknowledge the greatness of the daily miracle.

With the days counting down in the school year and the dawn arriving earlier each day, I set out on the daily drive. My routine was to pray, listen to something heaven focused whether a sermon or novel, and praise God for arriving at my parking spot at school. The routine enveloped me and carried me from day to day and week to week. However, I could not arrive at the point of leaving the medicine. I was not addicted to the daily meds. Rather, I could not part from them because of fear that no meds meant more panic attacks. It took the summer to put away the meds.

♦ ◊ ♦

My mental health has always been linked to fear. I’m afraid of dozens of things and even some people. I remember as a child being terrified of being outdoors alone. One day, as I have been told, my parents looked all over the house for me but couldn’t find me. I was sitting on the curb at the street trying to conquer my fear of the outdoors; I wanted so badly to be brave. Fear continued into my childhood. I used to be deathly afraid of dogs; I reckon I still am. It didn’t matter what dog, size or color or breed, I feared the canine. Even the dog we have now, I have felt fear even from her. So many people have noticed and said “don’t be scared.” Easy to say but hard to do.

With my past career living and teaching in Asia, I feared flying. During takeoffs, turbulence, and landings, I would grip the seats, the seat cushion, the seatbelt, my wife’s hand, the magazine in front of me, anything. I’ll never forget a flight over Japan while a typhoon lingered a few thousand feet below. The plane flew well above the weather, but we bounced and bounced and bounced. I gripped tightly and tried to not worry. Then my daughter looked at me with a huge smile and shouted, “Wheeeeeeee!” I realized something from her perspective on the flying to mine, she loved the flying and I should to. So, I changed my fear of flying to fear of crashing. Yes, laugh as you need.

I also fear change. My life and the life of my family has been filled with change. Since the birth of my eldest daughter, we have moved 15 times in a 20 year period. Primarily because of our life overseas, transition attached itself to us. Transition for a Christian is a step of faith. Without faith, though, transition and change produce fear. I have suffered this multiple times because my faith faltered.

For me – not necessarily for all who struggle with mental health – my lack of faith may very well be my 1,000 pound burden that is chained to my soul. How hard it is to walk in faith, despite knowing and believing that God is real and that He is in control. Not only has He saved me through Christ, but also has He made plans to prosper me and not harm me, plans to give hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). Likewise, God’s ways are so much higher than mine; His thoughts are greater than my thoughts (Isaiah 55:9). As He promises so He does, yet I doubt while His promises of miracles shout at me.

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The miracles that I experienced while driving to and from school confirmed a reason to have faith in God’s handiwork. The leap of faith tested me and refined my faith. Although the dross of fear lingers in the crevices of my faith, God’s faithfulness cleanses daily for His higher purposes. Another miracle.

That drive is over and complete. The mission is accomplished. I recall multiple times reciting the verse from Hebrews 12 that calls us to run the race that is set out for us and fix our eyes on Jesus. Yes, Jesus was at the end, standing at the finish line with His arms stretched out to receive me. I crossed that finish line and jumped into His arms. Dross dissolved, fear expunged, anxiety quenched. Race won.

However, a few months have passed, and I am in another race. I know I will win gold because I will continue to see His 10,000 miracles.

2023, May