Sarah Nyhan

I woke up from a terrible dream. Where at one point I was so lonely that I was doing shots to get drunk. Specifically so that my inhibitions would be lowered. So that I could tolerate being around some people for even the smallest measure of time.

I woke up as they were calling me out on being quite messy.

But I was mad that they even noticed. Didn’t they see? That was the whole point: just a few minutes, even if only in my dreams, of relief from all this fucking goddamn awareness.

Yay, so intelligent. For what, exactly? When exactly does any of this enlightened bullshit payoff?

All I seem to have done is sequester myself right out of everywhere.

Still waiting for the point besides the so very cold realization that everything I believed was, spoiler alert, a big fat lie.

Then a thought occurred to me that probably would have been more comforting before I annihilated my entire social circle through my dogged determination to compel everyone I had any semblance of connection with to join me in what now appears to be very much a party of one. Two – if you count Jesus. I guess there’s solace there. Eh, Holy Spirit? Trinity plus me makes this a proper shindig. Some might say.

Some who haven’t been through terror.

But enough of this superfluous drama; get to the fucking point already, Ms. Sarah. Miss goddamn so fucking too full of herself. Some might say.

The thought that came to me is THIS is exactly why Jesus told so many people not to talk about what He did for them.

I always used to wonder about that. He’d do these pretty outrageous miracles. Then tell people not to tell others. To even go hide themselves.

It’s because the point was actually NOT evangelism!

Took me all this time. All these years to figure that out: the point was never that God needed any of my help to save the world.

When you’re a little girl who doesn’t feel safe, born into a religion with a superiority complex, you are spoonfed this only goal in life: to save everyone from everything.

Except yourself!

Guess what Jesus came to do?

Much to my great surprise, I don’t think He came to save me so that I could better save everything and everyone else. And especially except myself.

You know why you can’t tell people what Jesus has done for you? Because they’ll fucking ruin the whole goddamn thing.

Sometimes Jesus comes to give YOU, and only you, a beautiful gift. And sometimes Jesus wants you to get the full benefit of that gift.

Sometimes, no matter how sweet and innocent you unknowingly are in your desire to share and celebrate with others, people will rush in to steal and thereby destroy every last fucking thing you have to offer.

Viciously. Without any regard.

Then a hate you never knew, the kind that makes people like that sick, can start to grab a hold of your precious heart.

So sometimes Jesus comes to only heal you. And Jesus doesn’t need a marketing or an advertising agency. Holy Spirit is not hiring.

Sometimes you finally realize you matter when you’re the only one you have left. When you finally meet yourself. When you finally slow down enough to hear your heart.

I don’t recommend this journey. If you have the choice. It hasn’t been fun at all.

But I guess necessary.

I don’t see hope anymore. Honestly.

But you don’t need to see anything when it comes to Jesus. If God is really God.

Yet I’m guaranteed no miracles.

But having this thought tonight was pretty beautiful. So I’d like to think that means there might be more to my story.

But one thing is for damn certain. I won’t ever be giving myself away like I did before.

My heart was so beautiful. For so long. Because I needed to believe in the possibility and probability of a less terrible world. Simply in order to survive.

Until I was strong enough to be able to endure fully opening my eyes.

After all I had already been through. Everything would have been too much all at once. Even more so than what already is.

The only thing I have left now outside of myself is that Jesus Loves me. This I know for sure.

And finally that I am not, and never was, just some tool to be used. At all. Ever.

I don’t have to be anything to anyone anymore.

Believe it or not, sometimes Jesus gives you a gift that is only for you. That He actually specifically intends and tells you to keep for yourself.

And that’s the only reason I will ever go back to writing. Or anything else. Ever again.

Because despite the insatiable ravenous attempts by the majority to convince me otherwise, I finally figured out that I matter.

And what I want isn’t some silly luxury. No, tapping into what I desire, as much as the thought of that even still scares me, is everything. Maybe even the point. And maybe even the only thing that will actually save whatever is left of me.

If there’s any part of me that still feels the need to return mostly by habit to that super deep path of thinking someone needs saving: hey, start with saving myself. Fully. Before I even think of returning to the vomit of losing all of myself in trying to save anything or anyone else. Ever again.

Because Jesus says so.

Or how is He God if I can’t fully trust Him with specifically everyone outside of myself that I want so badly to be free. Without the unaffordable expense of losing myself all over again. For the umpteenth time.

Because let’s get this straight and clear: I’m not bankrupt because I have no money. No, all this time I have had no money because I was bankrupt. Slight but significant shift in perspective. For more than the intellectual volley of it all.

I have been called out not as punishment. But for my protection. Until I could really get it. Until this seed could take deep enough root.

So that I would NEVER abandon myself again!

Totally opposite of what they ingrained, bashed into my head, and groomed me to do otherwise. My whole life.

Jesus knew.

I write this for myself. For the me that matters so much.

As an act of worship. For Love that is THAT great. And so unceasingly holy.

Hardly believable except for experience’s great graces and mercies. Over and over. Even if just in midnight revelations spoken so personally. That reason even feels safe enough to inch forward again. If only just a little more. Despite all the heavy, heavy loads thus far.

Even if I only get to celebrate with Trinity.

Full circle: all this time, for so many years before, I was trying to fit in at the wrong party. And I finally, thankfully woke up.

I never, ever would have guessed before that I was actually the point.

For what? For me.

And yes, also you for you. Even written in your precious Book. Not just co-signed. But authored from on High.

We’re all still just kids in grown up bodies. There’s nothing complicated about it all.

Let God be God and you’ll rediscover yourself.

Along with everything and everyone else.

Eventually.