A Doxology in Darkness – Chapter 2 – Fasting

Sharon June 26th, 2008

Immediately following the breakup, I went into a tailspin. I was a veritable mess.

Averaging about two to three hours of sleep per night, my skin became sallow, and my eyes were ringed by dark circles. I could barely swallow any solid food, so was relegated to protein shakes, and very simple things. Consequently, my five foot three inch frame whittled down from 110 pounds, to 97 pounds in a matter of about two weeks. I looked horrid: older, drawn and beaten down.

Heartbreak. Such a classic thing. All the fabled symptoms are real. And I would cast my vote for it being one of the most intense pains a human being can feel. It is a form of grief, and according to research, requires very similar stages of resolution as the death of a loved one.

I guess it makes sense. In both situations, the loved one is gone. I have at times wondered what kind of spin heartbreak puts on it, to know the loved one is still out there walking around, choosing not to be with you. Choosing to have you out of their life.

To make matters worse, just as with people who have never suffered through the death of someone close, people blessed with never falling victim to heartbreak can not empathize with someone in its throes.

They may be sympathetic at first, offering you a shoulder to cry on, and helpful advice regarding how much better off you are without the heartbreaker. They may even listen sympathetically while you repeat over and over how great the person was, and how you can never see yourself with anyone else. They will hang in there like good little troopers for maybe a month or so. But after that, they begin to lose their patience with the lamenting one. Shouldn't we "just get over it?" I mean, there are "other fish in the sea," right? What seems to be the problem?

At some juncture, I began to agree that these people had a point. I was disgusted with myself. Why couldn't I just move on? Why was I bombarded by thoughts of him every second of every day, waking or sleeping? Was I crazy? Was I that desperate?

All I could be certain of was that I had been heartbroken way too many times in my life. And this was, by far, the worst one yet. I had had enough. I felt that if life held more breakups, and more romantic desolation for me, then I certainly wanted no part of it. Something had to change, unequivocally.

One day, as I sat on the floor of my living room, crying and holding my stomach, I looked up to God and said, "Please, Jesus, how can I make sure this NEVER happens again…EVER…?"

Through my sobs, I heard the still small voice, calm and cool as gentle rain, "Don't date."

At first I didn't get it. I continued to sit and cry, while slowly chewing on the words themselves. Don't date? What does that entail? What does that look like? What could He possibly be suggesting? The idea itself seemed simple enough. But only slowly did the implications begin to unfold into their gargantuan stature.

Every time in my life I had experienced a romantic heartbreak, I did what most people do: I started looking for someone else. I mean, isn't that what the world defines as successfully "getting over someone?"

Without a doubt, that's what we are taught to do. To locate and secure a new romantic partner means we are better, stronger, moving on! When you start seeing other people again, everyone pats you on the back for "getting back out there!" Oh good. We can all breathe a collective sigh of relief that so-and-so is dating again. Now we can stop feeling the constant drain of their sadness. Now we can stop worrying about their loneliness. Now we can think about other, more pressing, less unattractive things in our lives. One problem tidily solved. Obviously, when someone starts dating again, they must be healthy and happy. And in the minds of most human beings, the sooner this happens, the better off everyone is.

But God does not share our minds. He by no means agrees with many of our coping mechanisms. This novel concept the Lord was urging me into meant that He wanted me to do something normally thought quite inconvenient and unconventional: stop looking. He wanted me to sit and withdraw from the hunt for a while.

His desire was for me to spend an unspecified quantity of time thinking of Him, and allowing Him to heal me. There was, however, no way for Him to truly accomplish that unless I was completely His. In order for His plan to work, I could not be distracted by any new relationship highs, or by the fervent search for the next prince.

I examined the proposition, and immediately re-examined it again. After mentally scrutinizing it from end to end, I came away frightened at worst and incredulous at best.

"Lord, what is this going to mean? How will I ever get over Tom if I don't have anyone to take his place? I'll be alone! I'll have to get over him without anything to help ease the pain! I will have no distractions. No endorphins. No new memories to dull the terrifically painful old ones…I have never entertained the idea of natural childbirth, which is exactly what this will boil down to. It's impossible! It cannot be done."

"Ahhh," came the knowing reply, "exactly."

Slowly, the full impact of what was going to happen in the months ahead wafted down and came to rest on my consciousness: This was going to be difficult. No, beyond that, this was going to be painful. Even beyond that, it was going to be unprecedented in my life! Unfamiliar territory! I was in no shape to take on anything new and strange! How was it ever going to work?

Unfortunately, I had walked with God long enough to know that He loves a challenge, and He loves to manifest His sovereignty over the "impossible." Therefore, telling Him that something cannot work is often the equivalent of praying fervently that He will prove us wrong. I knew in the very core of my being that I had to go along with Him if I would ever get to where He was obviously leading me. I was terrified.

Nevertheless, the alternative of possibly going through even one more romantic desolation in this short seventy years of life sent me running toward His waiting arms. I gulped hard and said, "Okay, Lord. Okay. Please, just make sure I never have to go through this heartbreak again. I'll do anything to make it stop."

So I set off on the new adventure. "Just me and you, God. We can do this. It'll be okay. And of course, since I'm doing what You want, it'll be pretty simple, right?"

I thought I would allow myself to be His alone for a little while, and then my Prince Charming would magically appear. Sort of a reward for being a brave single lady for a little while.

"I will have paid my dues, right? Earned my stripes. Sure. Sounds great. I can do this, Lord. I can do this. It's going to be wonderful. Can't wait to get started, Lord. Let's get this show on the road."

One of the things I had no way of knowing at the time was that our human desire for immediate results could not be more contrary to the way God does things.

You see, He has a clear view of everything in our hearts. He sees the faulty foundations. He sees all the ingredients that have been poured into our mix since before we can remember. What I saw as a quick and easy decision to "get better," He saw for what it truly was: the beginning of a long line of major surgeries, followed by extensive physical therapy.

We had a lot of work to do, He and I, and I had no idea what I had just signed up for. I'm glad for my ignorance, because I'm sure I would have turned and run had I any inkling of the searing pain involved. Running would have been tragic, because it would have simply postponed the lessons for another time. Eventually, I would've had to get there, one way or another.

Looking back now, I could not be more thankful that this time was it. No matter how ugly the following months were going to get, the beauty lying beneath was more precious than I could have ever foreseen.

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This entry was posted on Thursday, June 26th, 2008 at 8:53 am and is filed under Anger, Christianity, Dating, God, Healing, Jesus, Loss, Pain, Relationships, Religion and Spirituality. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.