I wake up in a cold sweat, crying. A nightmare? Just thoughts. Voices. They’re pulsating in and around me. Crushing down on me from every possible direction. It’s too much for you. It’s too much for you.
I know immediately what the voices are talking about. Tomorrow, I take my wife and infant son to Africa. And we just learned that Danae’s pregnant.
The voices are so real, so vivid. I can’t be crazy. I’m a little old for a first psychotic break episode. But yet they keep squeezing the life out of me. I can’t breathe.
I sit up. They still taunt me. It’s too much for you. What are you doing? What are you thinking? Are you trying to save the world? You don’t even speak French. You don’t know enough medicine. What are you doing? It’s too much for you. You can’t help. You can’t do it. It’s too much for you.
I walk around the dorm room. I tell myself over and over. It was just a bad dream. Maybe you’re still dreaming. Snap out of it. Pinch yourself.
I get back into bed. Stress. It’s all just stress. But the voices, real as any, continue. It’s too much for you. It’s too much for you. You’re too weak. Too feeble. You can’t do it. You can’t can do anything. You can’t help people. It’s too much for you.
I acknowledge the truth. It IS too much for me. It IS too much for me. It IS too much for me. I realize the voices are right.
Perhaps we should go back. How can I explain that decision to my wife? How can I explain it to our families? How can I explain it to the church? How can I explain it to all the people who have donated to us?
It IS too much for me.
I realize the truth. It IS too much for me. But I know One who can accomplish all things. I know One through Whom I can accomplish all things. I know the One who strengthens me. I know One for whom it is NOT too much.
I reach up. I reach up mentally. I reach up spiritually. I reach up emotionally. I reach up physically. Literally. I take hold of the hand of the One who strengthens me, of the One who can do all things.
The voices continue. I claim the promises of God. It’s too much for you. I still hear it over and over again. Yes, it IS too much for me. But it’s not too much for Him. One by one, layer by layer, the crushing all-encompassing voices lessen. I can breathe again. Soon, all the voices are gone.
I’m just a boy now. Walking along with his hand stretched up as high as it can go, holding onto his Daddy’s hand. Not a care in the world.
I’m asleep again.
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