Wrestling with Restlessness: A Letter to The Brokenhearted
bro·ken-heart·ed
/ˌbrōkənˈhärdəd/
adjective: brokenhearted
overwhelmed by grief or disappointment.
rest·less
/ˈres(t)ləs/
adjective: restless
unable to rest or relax as a result of anxiety or boredom.
2. offering no physical or emotional rest; involving constant activity or motion.
Like clockwork, I wake up in the middle of the night. Slide my feet into my slippers and make my way upstairs. I turn on the hallway light so that it shines just enough to cast my shadow onto their wall. At the foot of the bed sleeps, Journey. I pull the covers back, place my hand on her chest and give her a gentle kiss on the cheek. I pull the covers to the top of the bed where Jayce is lightly sleeping, burrowing his face away from the hallway light. I place my hand on his chest, leaving it there until I count the beats of his heart and then softly kiss his neck.
Across the hall is Jaden, a light sleeper. So, I stand at his door, leaning over on my tiptoes to see the movement from his blankets - up and down, up and down. Before heading downstairs, I lay my hands over their doorways, asking God to cover them with the blood of his son. Granting us another day when the sun rises.
Every night, a few times a night I make this journey up and down the stairs. Most nights, I find myself restless. Waking up with racing thoughts, sweat-filled sheets from bad dreams, I find comfort in hearing the sounds of my children sleep. The feeling of their beating hearts and the comfort found in asking God to watch over them.
But at what point does this become obsessive?
Honestly, I know I have no control over what happens to them. I can only trust that God will protect them. Yet, I find myself praying over them several times throughout the night as if God didn’t hear me the first time. It’s that need for control that maintains this sense of restlessness. It’s the desire to have control over their lives, my life, and all its details that keep me from understanding and experiencing the level of faith that God wants for me. And it’s the constant restlessness that keeps him from mending the pieces of my heart that have been broken from life’s disappointments. My need for control keeps me restless and unwilling to hand God the broken pieces of my life.
I’ve been restless in many areas of my life. Actually, all of them. Restless as a mother, as a wife, as a professional…restless as a believer.
It’s this feeling of always having something to do, always needing something to do. The never-ending to-do list not only stirs up my anxiety but forces its way into my dreams. Stealing what little moments of peace I may have. It’s the feeling of ‘what if’…
What if I don’t get up and pray over them every time my eyes open
What if I don’t say I love you before they go to school
What if…
But what does that false sense of control give me? Disappointment, anxiety, stress, and even more restless nights. While I am holding on to situations, I have no control over, I am also holding on to something broken. Believing that I am more capable of orchestrating my own healing than the one who created me.
One morning, as I sat in silence, I remembered the story of Jacob. Jacob is most commonly known in the Bible for his cunning and deceitful ways, especially towards his twin brother Esau. Genesis 32:22 – 32 describes the night Jacob wrestles with God. Despite putting up a good fight, God touches the socket of his hip, dislocating it. After losing to God, Jacob received God’s blessings and a new name, Israel (Wrestles with God). Jacob had to come face to face with God, let go of his struggles, failures, and sins in order to receive his blessing. He had to realize he was nothing without God. Jacob walked away a changed man, but he also walked away with a limp, one that remained with him as a constant reminder of who was truly in control.
Like Jacob, I was experiencing my own spiritual wrestling match. My need for control and my desire to pray, are the symptoms of my flesh and spirit tussling with one another. Unable to let go of my wants, my ideas of what’s best, my spirit wrestled with my mind and my body. Every night I walked away with a greater limp than I did the night before.
Showing me that I am in control of nothing. That God will move when it’s time to move. Open doors when it’s time to open them and bless me when I am ready for that particular blessing.
God wants to heal the brokenhearted. He wants to give rest to the restless, but he can’t do so unless we let go. We have to let go of the broken pieces of our lives and let go of the desire to be in control. We have to let go of our doubt in order to experience the peace that’s found in having faith in God’s ability to do exceedingly and abundantly more. Just like God wanted to guide and protect Jacob, he needed Jacob to realize his ability as a man was limited and cannot compare to that of the spiritual world. Even having wrestled with God, he walked away with a limp. One that forever reminded him of his limits.
We all walk with a limp. Mine reminds me of disappointments and failed expectations. While painful, they remind me of God’s ability to right my wrongs and the wrong of others. They remind me of his love for me and the peace he provides when I let go and allow Him to be in control.
A prayer for the restless and broken-hearted:
Father,
This burden is too heavy for me to carry.
Time and time again I’m reminded of my limitations and how greatly
I depend on you to carry me through hard times.
Father, I ask that you take these broken pieces and make them whole again.
I ask that you give me peace in the midst of my ‘what if’ moments.
I pray for your comfort during restless nights.
I know you are capable of providing me and those I love with everything we need.
Your love and protection never fall short.
Strengthen my faith through your grace.
Sit beside me during times of uncertainty, allowing your peace to overwhelm me.
I cannot heal myself. I cannot right the wrongs of others.
So, I leave it at your feet and walk away with a stronger faith in your plan.
Amen.