Will God Really Ever Be Enough For Us?
By: Mary Hood
Tags: Trauma, Christianity, God, Stillness, Hope

His every facial muscle scrimmages against the piercing light. His body flails as a fish caught on a seaman’s line. His ears once shielded within thick muscular walls now swell with thunderous, incoherent cacophony. A cold, foreign sensation ripples throughout his flesh.

Our first traumatic experience is birth.

Nine months we grow, are fed and kept safe. The day comes when we are forcibly expelled. The womb is finished with us. It does not explain and offers no choice.

Tears flowed as Timmy clapped his hands and closed his eyes tight as if nothing in the world meant more at that moment.

“God, please bring my mommy and daddy back”.

Mothers took turns caring for the ones who were too young to attend Sunday School. As part of the activities, we would gather the children together on the floor and encourage them to pray. Some would shuffle, uncomfortable with the thought of speaking out loud. Others could not wait to express three or four requests. Still, there was always the one who just said no.

Timmy prayed with intent and intensity. I couldn’t help but chuckle inside. When he finished, I stooped down and looked directly into his sad, anxious eyes, and whisper,

“Timmy, they will be back in 20 minutes. They are right down the hall in service.”

Time has no meaning to this four-year-old. He is inconsolable until his mommy and daddy walk through the door.

Separation anxiety is common in young children. As some grow, they leave it behind. Many more, however, carry it with them, growing at a much faster rate than their physical bodies.

I always knew I had a measure of anxiety. It comes with life. I never called it a mental illness. Yes, I was on medication for depression for fourteen years. I validated it with “circumstantial evidence”. When I finally reached the point to admit to my doctor I was losing all perspective, she examined my history closer, only to find out I was prescribed the wrong medicine. Instead of relief, it exacerbated the stress.

She never saw a need to question, because I never came clean with her.

Needless to say, I am drug-free at present. It is a combination of a lack of discernment on my part and mistrust of the medical profession.

Three years since, I am still not yet ready to subject my time, mind, and body to a pill. I am not against medication. I take something for osteoporosis weekly, and I go to my doctor regularly. Health is pretty high on my priority list.

A bit of information I found relates that 40 million adults in the U.S. suffer from some type of anxiety disorder. About one-half of them also suffer from depression. That tells me there is a definite connection.

Many risk factors include genetics, brain chemistry, personality, and life circumstances.

As I think of Timmy’s anxiety and mine, a few thoughts come to mind.

God created time and space, a continuing progression of existence in an amorphous expanse. You can read the account in the book of Genesis. Aside from water and firmament, and sun and moon, it is mankind who gave space its concrete walls, and time, its limits.

Only God can create something from nothing. Do you believe that?

I know people create things. They take raw material and turn it into something new. A seamstress takes fabric and turns it into garments, artists take a blank canvas and paint, transforming it into a valuable masterpiece. Writers take words and fill minds and libraries. Builders take wood and erect cities. The examples are infinite.

Man creates something from something. Ultimately every work of his hand comes from something God created from His hand.

So it is with a voice. We have one because God created speech. Even those with no vocal cords have speech. Each has a way of expressing who he is.

I believe each person’s life is a story that first began in the mind of God, long before s/he reached the womb. It began with a battle between good and evil.

Satan used the serpent in the Garden of Eden and never thought about destroying the animals, fish, fowl, or the universe, heavens, or earth.

His target was the free will of a man who God created in His image. Nothing else was created in His image.

Satan could not tolerate the idea of God spreading His image all over the earth

Satan’s efforts did not stop God. He continues to create mankind in His image. We have a spirit. God is a spirit, but because of sin, all born bear the likeness of Adam. We have a sinful nature.

Photo by James L.W on Unsplash

The forces of Heaven and Hell still continue to battle for the souls of men.

The result of an impulsive decision can be a slow, measured, sinister laugh constantly echoing failure.

Abstract words are easy to misunderstand and misinterpret. Like a spider tethered to a straight invisible strand, fact, fallacy, prejudice, and passion so often fall sudden and dauntless before us. We succumb under pressure to make a decision.

One way I describe anxiety is,

An inward restlessness toward the unknown. It often appears when there is pressure to meet a deadline, decide on an ultimatum, or face a task we feel inadequate to perform.

Some people thrive on pressure. Things get done. Other people fall apart. Then there are those like me, who embrace an opportunity, and later find themselves in water way over their heads, without the ability to swim.

As I continue to navigate through scripture and my life story, I am drawn to the book of Genesis. It seems the Lord is saying,

‘Keep going back to the beginning and I will show you my purpose for your life.’

We all have a voice and we all want to use our voice. I could tell you an infinite number of reasons why I think my voice was severed, muted, silenced, and ignored. Every story would hold someone in contempt, be it me, or another. I may even have reason to blame you, who I never met.



Recently, I began to question my story. I am sick of talking about me. Sometimes I view the hope I express on the page as unreachable bait. As much as I believe in the words and the power, I cannot connect my experience to the hope of a Savior for more than a few minutes at a time.

I sought counsel from a writer. He told me my story was important. It makes me unique. He said undressing (not in the physical sense) before others are very courageous. He said to keep writing. I am taking his advice but at a slower pace. As much as I value his opinion, I still need more than a voice at the end of the phone.

I think about what Ernest Hemingway said,

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

What information tells us is he suffered from severe depression, paranoid delusions, and bipolar disease. He had a history of alcoholism and a genetic disorder of iron metabolism, called hemochromatosis, which can cause intense fatigue and memory loss. He committed suicide in 1961.

Writing, for Mr. Hemingway may inspire generations to write. I surely believe him and all writers extract their words from God, for He is the author of all words, and certainly, I draw much from his words, but I don’t find it gave him any lasting solace or hope. I certainly pray I am wrong.

I continue to pray and read scripture. The Genesis story of creation is weaving a web throughout everything I read.

God moves and speaks from eternity and time drags us through the spaces

“Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to the world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” (Romans 12:1–3, NASB)

God never does just one thing at a time in my life. I guess He trusts Himself to accomplish them. I know He cannot trust me.

The first is

I have a mental illness. It’s called anxiety. The solution He is directing me toward is stillness.

I put every label on my problems and never once dared to call it what it is.

I cannot experience transformation when anxiety is pulling me in ten different directions.

I may hear, but not define His still, small voice if my heart is not still.

I cannot live in the present moment if I am concerned about the next.

God is showing me whose story I am to write.

I am writing His story. I am using my story, but He is the protagonist. I am a secondary character, a vessel, to communicate His story.

Satan does everything to make me feel like the antagonist.

“The heavens are telling of the glory of God; And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.” (Psalm 19:1, NASB)

There is only one story God wants us to hear, to know, and to tell. He uses all of creation to tell it. Every star, planet, galaxy, light, meteorite, weather pattern, seen, unseen, or yet to be discovered is for the sole purpose of making His story and His glory known.

Every bit of my story is relevant only to His story.

My sinful nature and God’s holy nature will never be compatible. An ever-constant battle is fought moment by moment.

Satan accuses me every time I tell of the hope of Jesus Christ within me. He doesn’t want me to spread God’s image, but only the likeness of Adam.

“But you said in your heart, ‘I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God, And I will sit on the mount of assembly In the recesses of the north.” ‘I will ascend above the heights of the clouds;

I will make myself like the Most High.’

“Nevertheless you will be thrust down to Sheol,

To the recesses of the pit.

“Those who see you will gaze at you,

They will ponder over you, saying,

‘Is this the man who made the earth tremble,

Who shook kingdoms, Who made the world like a wilderness?

And overthrew its cities, Who did not allow his prisoners to go home?’ “All the kings of the nations lie in glory, each in his own “But you have been cast out of your tomb like a rejected branch,

Clothed with the slain who are pierced with a sword,

Who go down to the stones of the pit

Like a trampled corpse.” (Isaiah 14:13–19, NASB)

The good news is that Christ inside my heart nullifies any chance of eternal separation from God. Satan doesn’t like that because he lost that perfect union when he decided to be equal to God in Heaven.

“for the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.” (Romans 11:29, NASB)

Mental illness is not a gift of God. It is a fallen state passed on through the sin of Adam.

Stillness, mercy, love, eternal life, forgiveness; these are a few of the gifts of God. They are mine.

Some gifts are deeply hidden within the wrappings and trappings of Satan.

Though it often is toilsome and laborious to live this Christian life and to find the words He wants me to write, it is not torturous. It is freeing to my soul.

I still have some contact with Timmy’s parents. I continue to pray for him.

Children pray parents will return. Parents pray children will return. Jesus prays we all will return…to Him.

There is so much I wish I had known earlier, but I’m happy I know now.