The Wall

What do you do when you’ve hit a wall? In life. In your emotions. In your options for moving forward and gaining momentum toward a goal.

I’m not referring to those times when it’s actually just a hurdle that’s difficult, but still have the option to jump over it. I’m not even referring to a road block that although inconvenient and time consuming, can still be maneuvered around.

I’m talking about a brick wall. A brick wall so high that you can’t see the top, and so long that it fades off into the distance. In both directions. Now what? Behind you is the past. A black ooze that threatens to pin you to that wall like a tsunami of tar, keeping you stuck in its grip. You can almost see its smirk as it inches toward you.

You’ve tried climbing the bricks to no avail. Your fingers now bloodied from the attempts, curse you for being so ambitious. You’ve tried running the lenth of the wall to a point where your legs betray you and the taste of anxiety is in each breath escaping from your wearied lungs. Knees, scarred and bruised from kneeling to pray to ask God, “What do I do now? Where are you? I’m trapped! I can’t do this anymore. I need help! Please! God???”

The only sound is the heavy breathing from your chest, and a vacuum seal. Deafening silence.

Is this it? Is this the culmination of my life’s purpose being played out in slow motion? Is there no escape? Nothing else I can try? Wow, I sure thought there’d be a better ending.

Have you ever felt trapped? Alone? Expected to somehow make it, but having no rescources to do the impossible? Oh friends, I have been there! I can tell you, the last thing you need to hear is, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Really? Do you see my beat up, broken down body? And that’s not to mention my soul or my mind. Are you telling me that I just don’t have enough drive? Are you trying to tell me that I just don’t have the right perspective? I am especially fond of the sentiments that mention ALL of the “you should have” or “you could have”. Yes, but how does that help me now? It reminds me of Job’s “friends” in the Bible. “You should have lived a better life, Job. Maybe you could have avoided all this if you just lived a less sinful life, Job.” I can almost see their bony fingers pointing at him in disgust as he lay in misery on the ground, consumed with sores and grieving the death of his loved one’s. His livelyhood turning to dust, anxiety building as he watched it slip away. “What have I done wrong to deserve this?” Apparently, nothing. It was a test of his faith.

I’ll be honest. I hate tests. I think they’re a cruel and unusual punishment. I feel like they’re laced with cynicism. Do tests really show an accurate depiction of what we’ve retained? Why is it, that when given a sheet of paper filled with multiplication problems, and told that I have one minute to complete it, that I completely forget how to count by 4’s to solve the problems? I was set up for failure, wasn’t I?

Isn’t life so like that at times? It feels as though no one wants to see us succeed. If you wanted to check my progress, why not see how I do when I’m not under so much outside pressure, with a timer about to explode in my ear, to determine wether or not I’ve made the cut? Don’t we all panic and worry when time seems to be closing in on us, and 4×6 seems like an equasion for a doctoral mathematician because there’s only 10 more seconds to talk your brain into calming down and remembering what you’ve known since second grade?

Wasn’t Job just like me when he asked God, “What did I ever do to you? I thought I was living how you wanted me to, and now my kids are dead, and my friends told me that I need to repent, but there’s nothing to repent of. Then they left me. I am in severe pain from these sores all over my body. My crops and animals? Gone. Every last one. And then, like olive oil to my unleavened bread, my wife says I should just curse you and die. Uuummm, could I pretty please have an explaination?”

Why does it sometimes feel like we can help others sort through their miseries so easily, but then feel like we’re at a wall with our own? As if this is why we exist. To help others through their hardest moments, but be left alone in ours. Unable to see past the struggle. Left gasping for a breath of fresh purpose and hope.

I want you to think on that. Feel the tension of the uncomfortable; the unknown and unexplainable. Then stay tuned for next time, when I delve into how I have survived being pinned to that brick wall.