Crazy Hurts

I read a blog that was titled “crazy hurts." I don’t know if that’s supposed to be interpreted where crazy is the adjective and hurts is the noun, as in, “that was too many crazy hurts for one week” but I interpreted differently. I think crazy is the noun - as in “being 'crazy' hurts.”

Can you guys believe I just used those big grammar words like ‘adjective’? Take that Mrs. Copeland! (My 9th grade teacher made our entire grade take a grammar course because, apparently, I used, too many, commas, in my essays, and had no respect, for the, laws, of English. But, look at me, NOW! Proof, that Jesus, overcomes!)

Anyways, I felt a deep heart tie with this girl I had never met who wrote the crazy hurts blog and who apparently knows what its like to suffer from “wack-job-ism”. And can we all just agree - crazy does hurt, sister, it hurts bad! It will knock you over, kick you while you are down, and spit on your face. Being crazy is the worst. I should know.

Speaking of crazy: This week I have had very little sleep thanks to my blonde best waking me up at 5AM every morning to go to Crossfit (READ: Satan’s work out) with our personal trainer, Aaron. I love and I hate Aaron, both emotions simultaneously. Not only this but I keep pushing myself to do more, and stay up later, and never say no for reasons that I am embarrassed to tell you. (It reveals a level of girly giddiness that I don’t like to own up to.) So because I have been going ninety-to-nothing all week, I have come face to face with the mortifying fact that I am not as young as I once was. I cannot stay up all night long and wake up and run and be active, and go to work, and have a social life…and remain sane. It’s an either-or situation. Give or take. Get sleep – Retain Composure. Don’t sleep – Spiral into emotional instability and blackout rage over essentially nothing, add crying for no reason.

Anyways its times like this that I come to Jesus. I need Jesus because when I get to this point of exhaustion I start becoming this insecure “idiot baby”** and I cant pull my shiZ together. I start seeing everything and everyone in the world from an extremely worldly view and cant get out of my own head. Its times like this when I eat entire pints of ice cream. I need Jesus because whenever I don’t get sleep, my identity seems to get lost in a lot of things that aren’t Christ, making me feel unstable and capable of mass chaos. Its times like this where I start laughing at things that are not funny (and this is not cute, warm, fuzzy laughter, I am talking about manic laughter that makes those around me feel uncomfortable). Its times like these when I feel as if I am stumbling along groping for any landmark that will give me hope that I am still even on the path.

**”Idiot baby” is the newest word conglomeration by THE Lindsay Behnke. It’s the perfect mixture of words to get across the point that someone is being absurdly immature. We also use it in most any negative circumstance regardless if it relates or not.

So tonight I am skipping a camping trip, and instead I am spending time with Jesus, begging Him to re align my world, mind, thoughts, worth, identity (and anything else that has gone haywire this week) under His authority, and once again returning to my hiding spot under the grace and love of Christ.

Because when I am too tired, I become a Prodigal Pharisee, a self righteous rationalizer with an extreme capacity for rebellion and an intense desire to run away from all responsibility or obligation. And lets be honest, that’s a combination of the worst characters in the bible. But as it stands I am a repeat offender, a repeat confessor, and thankfully such a debtor to the grace that repeatedly sets me free.

And thankfully, God is good. He meets me here amidst my crazy. He meets with this exhausted wack job and makes me smile and cry the good tears, and gives me nights with no clouds and all stars. He meets me here with encouragement, and reminds me I am not alone. He quiets the fears that I am never going to get it right, and assures me that I have not missed some major memo on Christian sanctification that everyone else received. He meets me here when my ‘crazy’ is hurting and speaks worth into my soul. He meets me here as my Father, and He loves me and sits in my bed with me and sings over my sleep. He is God, and I am His. Tonight, I am resting in Him...and my crazy hurts a little less.

Sigh. Come Lord Jesus.