SICK AND TIRED OF BEING SICK AND TIRED!

Her name was Fannie Lou Hamer, a fierce '60s Civil Rights activist in mean old "we ain't gone never change" Mississippi. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired and decided to do something about it, even to the extent of taking on the Democratic National Convention to challenging the seating of the all white Mississippi delegates at the convention.

Not too long ago, I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I began to ask myself some hard questions. How could I, as a firm believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, still find myself in a place of worry and anxiety? Why was I still wrestling with the past rather than trusting God not only for my future, but also for my present? Why was I still putting my trust in mankind (that had already proven it should not be trusted) rather than in a God who had proven Himself to me over and over and over? "Why," as one woman asked me those many years ago, "was I being made out to be the bad guy?" And why was I still pitching my tent in that miserable valley? Why was I rehearsing my misery as if I were preparing for some big production of "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen?" I do know I am wired for worry; what I finally realized back then was that I needed to submit that predisposition to the authority of God. But how?

I eventually declared to myself, "Enough is enough," and determined to fast and pray on the matter. I entered into the fast with the thought that I would fast until God declared "The End." This time I also decided that each time a hunger pang hit I would think on the Word of God and pray. In times past, when the hunger pangs hit, I only thought about food. This time I turned my appetite to God to feast on His Word and to hunger for His righteousness. This became my daily routine and the stronger the hunger pangs, the stronger my prayers.

It is not important how long I fasted, but when I came out of that fast, I came out with the calm assurance that through it all Jehovah Shammah is indeed with me. These days my worry switch is not so easily flipped; after all, if God is for me who (or what) can be against me. I have a peace that confounds even me. When I do feel the tickle of worry, I immediately turn to God (Phillipians 4:6-7).

No, I have not reached perfection. There are still days when the enemy points out the losses, what I do not, and probably never will, have. There are days when I still wonder "What the heck happened?" There are times when Mr. Screwtape pokes me in my spirit and asks, "So, where is the love?" But, when those moments show up, I remind myself that I am the apple of God's eye. He has my name written on His hand. He catches my tears in a bottle. He will be my vindicator long after I've forgotten the hurt and gotten over the heartache. He truly is my light and my salvation. He fills the voids in my life and I am (thank you, Marvin Sapp) stronger and wiser and so much better.

I get joy when I think about what He's done for me!