The Safest Tower Ever

The air around me seemed thin, without sufficient oxygen for me to draw a deep breath. My heart began to flutter. I felt the awful panic rising and I struggled to remain calm.

“Keep breathing,” I told myself. “Just act normal. Wait for it to pass.”

I was so tired of fighting this monster inside my head that threatened to totally dismantle my mental well-being. If only I could crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.

Instead, I was in the middle of town, with five children in tow. We had made it through my daughter’s appointment at the eye doctor, and now it was getting late. Maybe I could just stop at the grocery store and pick up something to throw in the oven for dinner tonight. It would solve at least one problem.

Entering the store, I grabbed a cart and headed to the frozen food section. I pushed my cart up one aisle and down another staring through the glass at rows of colorful packages, until I had traversed the whole freezer section of the grocery store. Each box sported a picture of a delicious meal, hoping to entice me with a promise of dinner, but I had nothing in my buggy. I made a second round, and still, my cart was empty. The boxes and packages all blended in one sea of color and became mush in my mind.

What was wrong with me?

“Just decide on something!” I commanded myself, but it did no good. I simply couldn’t process another thought or make one more decision.

I abandoned my cart in the middle of the aisle and fled the store empty-handed.

Maybe we could eat sandwiches for dinner.

Days passed and things deteriorated to the point where I could no longer function. I was forced to see a doctor, who rather glibly announced that my problems stemmed from anxiety. He handed me a prescription and told me to go home and rest until the pills took effect.

Obeying his orders was not a problem. I crawled into bed and lay gazing at the floral pattern of roses on the wall that used to be bright and crisp but was now out of focus. The pattern was dizzying, and I closed my eyes to shut it out.

What was happening to me? I had dealt with anxiety years before and it was not like this. I was so weak I could hardly get out of bed. Was I going to completely lose my mind?

Fear assailed me, making me feel more alone than I had ever been. My broken mind isolated me from my family and friends, and even my own self.

I tried to pray but my lips didn’t move; the words were lost in my soupy state of mind.

And that is when I heard it. A familiar little melody, as clear as could be, broke through the fog in my brain, soothing my restless mind. The words were from a verse in the Psalms.

“The name of the Lord is a strong tower, the righteous run into it and they are safe.”

Where did the tune come from? Who was singing to me?

I lay under the covers and listened to the song play over and over in my head.  In the daytime when the sun’s rays filtered through the blind, bathing me in a soft light, and especially in the scary darkness of night, that little song kept me company. In my weakness, I thought of the strong tower, longing to crawl into it, to snuggle up next to Jesus. If I could be next to Jesus, I would feel better. I would be safe.

Today I read a story in the book of Mark that reminded me of those dark days when I so needed the touch of Jesus. A woman with a bleeding problem had also struggled with persistent illness and for much longer than I did. She suffered many things at the hands of doctors until her funds were exhausted, but she only got worse.

Added to her physical dilemma was an emotional one. Because of the nature of her condition, she was kept at arm’s length by her family and friends. No one wanted to touch her and then go through the cleansing ritual required by Jewish law, day after day.

She too was isolated and with all her resources gone, I am sure she felt fear. Was she going to always be this way? How long could she live like this?

Then she heard the name of Jesus. He was nearby, her last chance to find healing. Jesus was her answer. She could feel it in the core of her being.  She just had to get close to him.

“…She came up behind him through the crowd and touched his robe. For she thought to herself, “If I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.” Mark 5;27-28

And she was right. One touch and she felt complete immediate healing.

I realize that my situation and the woman’s differ somewhat, but the most important detail in our stories is the same. When we were in our weakest, most isolated place, a touch from Jesus was what we both craved most.

And Jesus was the answer. He brought healing to her body and to my mind.

The woman’s healing was instant. Mine took time, and a special touch from Jesus during an anointing ceremony.

I’m not sure how the woman lived the rest of her days on this earth. I do know that, for me, I have been thankful many times since, that I have a place to run to, especially on days when I feel anxious, isolated, or lonely.

It is a place carved out for me beside Jesus, whose name is a tower, strong and secure. I curl up next to him and relax. I am safe.