Have you ever been so afraid of something that it almost seemed as though through your fear, you willed that very thing to happen? It's like someone's waiting there, in the silence, hearing your troubled thoughts or your occasional desperate cries out. Just waiting there for the opportunity to grant your fear and doubt and give you the very thing you've been afraid of all those years.
When I was in high school, every fourth or fifth day I would be getting ready in the morning and would feel sick to my stomach. I'd break out in sweats and I'd lay down wherever I was standing, hoping it would pass. Almost every time that happened, I thought to myself, "Liz, you have appendicitis." The funny thing was, I didn't know what appendicitis was. I didn't know what the actual symptoms of this rare disease were. The fear inside of me just assumed that what I was experiencing was, in fact, appendicitis. Soon that fear grow to include anytime I was sick. In the back of my mind I was always telling myself, "Liz, you're going to get appendicitis one day." I'd imagine various scenarios about when I'd get it. One time, I was on the balcony of a hotel, overlooking a huge city, when my stomach began experiencing pain and I cringed, bending over at the waist only to finally lay down right there in the fetal position. Sometimes, I would be at school, listening to a lecture when the pain would strike. Another time I think I was in a school play. Either way, the same fear always followed me.
I don't know why I was afraid of this. I don't know why I feared appendicitis. It seems like such a random thing to fear. And yet, there it was. My fear of appendicitis.
This fall, the day after Craig cut his toe open and we had to take him to the emergency room, after I had been awake for about an hour or two, I began to feel ill. I hadn't eaten for the day, but I didn't really feel hungry. About four hours later, I thought that I should eat something. I tried eating some soup, but I just still felt gross. I ate a couple of crackers, and laid down in Jessie's bed. She had been home for the weekend. I paced around the room a lot, because laying down hurt too much. I felt like I was going to throw up. I figured it had to be my stomach, because the pain was right behind my navel. An hour or two later though, I no longer felt nauseated, but I still felt pain. This time, it was a sharp, constant pain near my right hip bone. I couldn't sleep, because it hurt no matter how I lay, even in the fetal position. I just kept pacing, feeling more and more awful by the minute. I took a second shower, and while in there, I cried out to God.
"God," I said. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm feeling this horrible, awful pain and I don't know why. Please, just tell me what's wrong."
Ever since I came to college, I think I lost my fear of appendicitis. It just sort of, went away. But that day, at that moment, I still wasn't sure who had responded to me when I asked this of the Lord.
"Liz, you have appendicitis," the answer was.
I sat there, bewildered and confused. Appendicitis? Was this really God responding, or Satan trying to convince me that things were worse than they actually were?
I got on the internet and looked up the symptoms for appendicitis. "Wow," I thought. "This actually sounds exactly like what I have." I think I checked and rechecked that information at least eight times before I finally decided to go to the emergency room. I had a hard time believing that what God had told me was true. Or maybe I was secretly hoping that the information would change and I wouldn't have to go to the hospital after all. Either way, I think I've learned pretty well what appendicitis is now. And, since my operation, I no longer have to be afraid of getting it. So that's cool. It never ceases to amaze me, though, that this one thing I had secretly feared for so long finally came to pass. It's strange and cool all at the same time.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004 I'm further...further from myself
11:26 PM
The self. It's something that seems at times impossible to define. Who do we say that we are? Who do we portray ourselves to be?
It seems like we spend our whole lives trying to discover this answer...especially in college. Typically college sentence: "I'm trying to find myself." Trying to find yourself? Where did you go? How'd you get lost? Should you even bother looking for yourself anyway? Is it worth your time?
I've wondered about this recently. If one of the main thrusts of Christianity to to deny yourself, is there even a point in trying to find out who you are to begin with? Maybe it's a quest to find yourself so that you know who or what to deny when you acquire a stronger faith in Jesus. If you have a strong sense of self, you have a stronger ability or understanding to deny yourself. You know who or what you have to deny.
Do I know who or what to deny? Hmmm..I know I need to deny myself from playing computer games all day. I know I need to deny any basic sinful nature.
Is the main thrust of ANYONE'S self the original sin we're born with and must in fact deny? Is sin in fact the "self" that we're all seeking and ultimately must deny? This has to be the most ironic thing EVER.