What many of us want most, self-reliance, is the very thing that will ruin us. We think self-reliance will leave us happy, but its pursuit leaves us both hungrier and more unhappy. It wasn’t until I had nearly ruined myself in the pursuit of it that I learned what I really needed: to be alone with God.
My health collapse several years ago was largely biological and psychological, but I suffered a spiritual death in my soul at its hand. Besides chronic fatigue, I developed tremors throughout my body that came and went at their leisure. One day they were bad enough that my head started lolling to the side and my hands curled into my body, useless.
I gestured for one of my daughters to grab a chair and take it into the backyard. The ground had a hard dingy crust of snow, but the day was pleasant. Honestly, I just wanted to be alone with the tremors. So I sat on an old red chair and followed my invalid thoughts in a circle.
My mind was collapsing into greater and greater simplicity.
Within a few minutes, the circle in my mind was microscopic. Bewilderment covered me like a suffocating sheet. I couldn’t seem to hold onto more than three words at a time.
Those words slowly took the form of the words that came to me as a kid, drowning in some stranger’s pool: God. Help. Me.
As I sat in the crusty snow, the sense of isolation expanded inside me. I couldn’t even lift my hand out of the water anymore. The undertow dragged me to the bottom of myself. Sitting alone in the chair, I had no strength to compose elaborate prayers. I was sapped. My soul could catch no breath. I had strength only for three words: God. Help. Me.
Over and over and over and over.
God. Help. Me.
God. Help. Me.
God. Help. Me.
Nothing noble. Nothing complex. Nothing astute. Nothing but me and my need put as simply as possible. Nothing but me, naked before God.
And I was empty. Not simply an empty vessel, I was a broken, empty vessel.
God. Help. Me.
With my head bobbing and my hands limp on my lap, with quiet all around, I pleaded like a child because I was a child.
The truth is, I’ve always been a child and my needs have always been a child’s.
I think that’s one important reason why we call God, “Abba” or “Dad.” We need Dad’s help. All the time. I certainly do.
I’ve come to realize that our frailties are not so much things to ignore or bury. They’re not even things just to be solved or cured, although sometimes we can. Frailty is an opportunity. It calls our bluff and leaves us vulnerable to the intrusive presence of God. I’ve come to believe that “God help me,” is not only the most child-like prayer, but also the most elemental of all prayers.
Perhaps “God help me” is the most indispensable form of any petition. It is prayer purified to its most fundamental state, communicating most intensely and truly our human condition. We are destitute. Every other prayer of petition that escapes our hearts, certainly mine, takes some form of this one.
<a href=”https://plus.google.com/u/0/101682939517488858639?rel=author”>benpalpant.com</a> – life re-imagined
Ben,
It is Sunday afternoon and time to catch up on reading. It is tough to read about my kid’s suffering, to get glimpses of your very real experiences. I told book group about the recent freedom you are experiencing in your writing.
Cathy R said, “It is true. You can tell.” and went on spouting superlatives I don’t remember. So I’ll use my own–effortless, raw, delivering punch.
Our discussion around the table had everything to do with the topic of self-reliance and how just at the moment, The Lord has us all living from one day to the next, hour by hour, and sometimes minute by minute.
For me, since Nana came to live here, you might catch me on my knees in our bedroom or my head against the linen closet doors with tears…all postures of “help”. I’m going to forward this post on to them. I love you.
Mom