Nine.TwentyEight.TwentyTen.

"They" say that the first step is admitting you have a problem.


So...


Hi, my name is Chelsea. And I'm weak.


I wanted so badly to just leave it at that, but I would be the only one who would really benefit from the humor of it so I guess I'll have to explain.


For a little over a week now I have been struggling with really bad anxiety. And by anxiety, I mean being viciously attacked spiritually. No, my house has not been destroyed, I haven't lost my children or live stock, and I have yet to scrape my boils with broken pieces of pottery. Rather than taking the Jobian approach, the angle the enemy has taken is internal -- the battle ground being my heart and my mind. And while there are physical effects of this attack, the most intense blows have been to my heart, specifically God's love for me and my identity as a daughter, friend and heir in Christ.

I am not going to go into great detail because I honestly don't know who reads this anymore; and while many believe in the "heart on your sleeve" form of therapy, I stand firm in the "keep your heart in your chest where it is safe" form. I will disclose details and personal information if you really want to know. I guess I'd just rather not let my deepest thoughts and emotions be mere entertainment while someone waits for their facebook profile pic to upload.
Fair, right?
Right.
Moving on.

Let me get on to the good stuff...the redemptive stuff.

So yes, this week and a half has been hard. And I mean REALLY hard. Things from my past were beginning to resurface, things I have had freedom from for years now. New temptations were placed before me, coupled with old ones. New insecurities popped up like daisies, and my mind has never been so exhausted from taking thoughts captive.
I. Got. Worked.
Now, understand me when I say that I don't write all of this for dramatic effect. I simply want you to understand how hard it has been for me the past week or so, so that you can understand how incredibly good and loving our God is.

Like I said, I got worked this week.

And I think I may have finally figured out why.

I have absolutely no complaints on my life here in Santa Cruz. I was recently hired to run a program with the high school group at my church that is absolutely perfect for me. It is my heart in job form. I am in a Life Group that is starting this Sunday with some of the most amazing young hearts Santa Cruz has to offer. God has blessed me with two incredible roommates who love Jesus with their whole hearts and who challenge me on a daily basis. I work and live in a place that I feel safe and secure in with a wonderful staff. I am getting significantly better at Mario Kart Racing and am beginning to take first place over the boys more and more (which may be my biggest accomplishment at camp thus far).
The list goes on, honestly. My life is blessed and so much better than I thought it could be. I love who and what I'm surrounded by.

Are you getting it yet? Shall I explain? Okay....

I am living where God wants me. I know this by the peace I experience living here. I am doing His work. And while I'm about 5 billion miles from perfection, I'm striving to be obedient. To be loving. To be more like Jesus.
Get it? I'm doing HIS work. I'm working for HIS kingdom.
I'm being attacked because I'm doing good things in the name of the Lord.
(You should see my face right now - a hybrid between "REVELATION!" and "Duh, right?")

Here's the crazy thing. You ready?

It took me feeling like shit (and I use that word purposely simply because it seems to be the most appropriate word - ugly, gross, messy, unwanted, stenchy) to make me realize God is proud of me.
He is proud. Of me.
If you know me at all you know this is revolutionary for me to say.
I believe, with my whole heart, that I am being attacked because I'm doing God's will. And if THAT is why I'm being attacked, then may I rejoice in being able to share in Jesus' sufferings.

Because when we are weak, He is strong. God's power is made perfect in our weaknesses. And God is just so powerful right now.

Let me leave you with a vision he gave me earlier today:

There was a young girl, pretty much passed out on the floor. A large man came and scooped her up, much in the same way a hero scoops up his fair maiden, or a fireman scoops up a victim passed out from the smoke in the fire. The man carried her. Suddenly they were in this circular, metal room, painted red with no doors, but with windows almost all the way around. As they sat in the room there were people or something banging all around the room, at every window and at every wall. And though they could see and hear the people banging to get in and harm her, she sat there in the arms of the man safe and at peace, because she knew that while in his arms she was safe and nothing could harm her.

That is me. I'm sitting in a red room. Completely weak. I can't even move. I can see the things Satan is throwing at me. I can hear the yells and the whispers -- the lies and the deceits.

But I can feel my Father holding me, stroking my head, loving me, and saying He's proud of me. I can feel the Holy Spirit pumping through my veins, filling me with joy.

And for once, despite what the world tells me, I know that what I feel is more real than what I hear.



My sign off, very appropriately...Shalom.