The Sanctuary

I find it terrifying that I am a mind stuck in a body. Maybe that is the root source of the panic, I don't know. I just can't leave myself, it's like I'm caught in my own skull. On days where I think a lot and get really worked up, I forget that have a body. Then I remember that my eyes are blinking, my heart is beating, and my lungs are breathing. And it's just startling- I can't escape these functions. They are drilled into my system. They make me a body. And if I lost my mind, then I would really just be a body. It's a circular scare. 


I'm in the backseat of our Ford Expedition. Two of my sisters friends are crammed next to me, giggling away. They just started seventh grade-the year that is all about what you wear and how you act. The year that determines who you most likely be in high school. At the moment, they're talking about whether "Jonathan" is cute or not. I jokingly turn to my sister and say, "well I think he's soooo hot." The girls laugh. I turn back to face the window and allow my mind to reel. Soon we drop them off at church for Friday Night Club, a middle school outreach event. My anxiety eases as we pull up to the large brick building that has recently become my home. The girls hop out and rush through the big glass doors and greet their friends. Will I ever be happy like that again? Will ever just be able to live again? I miss the days where I didn't think. Where I just lived because life was good. 


While the girls are at church, my parents, sister and I go to Potbelly's in downtown Bethesda. The four of us sit around the square wooden table in the back of the restaurant. After a few bites of my ham and provolone sub I start feel sick. I excuse myself from the meaningless conversation about our basement renovation and head to the bathroom. This has become a major pattern in my life. To the bathroom, to the mirror. Mirrors have always been a comfort thing for me. I stop in front of the glass, rest my elbows on the sink cupping my chin in my hands, and stare into my eyes. Alright. You have to be strong. You've got too much in you to let go now. My green eyes fill with tears and spill over onto my cheeks simultaneously, as I am reminded of why I must survive. We don't have a choice. We have to get passed this. people need us. But my repetitive thoughts don't seem to help, and I am left shivering in my small wooden chair at the side of the table for the rest of the meal.


When we get back to the church my dad hops out and stands in the middle of the parking lot, waiting for my sister and her friends. I am huddled in the back in my big lacrosse sweatshirt trying desperately to listen to Fleet Foxes. It was useless, my mind was still in a panic. I look out the window into the darkness and whisper to myself, "alright. I need saving."


In no more than a few seconds I am outside standing beneath the streetlamp in the middle of the empty parking lot. My father starts talking, in reference to the moving figures and smiling faces inside the building. "Isn't this place just so great. There is no other youth group like this anywhere." I looked down to the black pavement and nod, "Yeah, you're right." Then I just run. This huge wave of impulse takes over me, almost like this was a natural course of action, taken instinctively upon parking-lot panic. To just go. In moments I am through the big doors and into the hall swarming with middle schoolers. I don't stop there. I pass the youth offices, the middle school room, and make it to the back hall. The atmosphere holds a calm silence. I stop to catch my breath, leaning against a classroom door in a dark side hall. Go! Go! I continue running, letting my legs direct me. I run to the end of the hall I am in, turn the corner, and find myself in the main hall, Halverson Hall. Moonlight pours through the skylights, scattering pools of milky light across the tiled floor. I keep going. Before I know it I am in the narthex, walking up the last set of stairs before I reach the sanctuary. And there it is. The huge stain glass cross, starring down at me in the distance. I walk to the alter, pew by pew, on the red carpet. I let the palm of my hand skim each wooden arm rest as I pass. My mind reaches a complete stand still- something that I have not been able to accomplish on my own in a very long time. I am now at the front of the sanctuary, standing just below the alter. I do a quick head check to make sure no one is watching me. Then I walk up the three steps that lead to a small wooden table on the stage. A large ancient bible is propped open, resting on the top of the table. I take out my phone and shine the light on the middle of the right page. I read the words out-loud in a low whisper.


Be still, and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)


Despite my attempt to keep quiet my voice is carried throughout the entire dark empty room. I put my phone back in my jeans pocket and lift my eyes to the cross. Even in complete darkness it is illuminated. God's sudden presence is overwhelming. I can feel Him there, in the sanctuary, watching over me as I ponder His words. Still facing the cross, I turn around and look out to expanse of the room in front of me. Every sunday these rows are filled with minds, hearts, eyes, and ears, all wanting God. All loving and listening to God. And every sunday, Rob, the pastor, stands up there at that podium and preaches. His life, and all these rows and rows of people's lives, are devoted to God. There is no way this is not real. This room, that cross, this beautiful ancient book, there is just no way. I stand on the alter, locked in astonishment. All fear is stripped away as I bask in His power. I am still, Father. You are God. 


In the car on the way home I can't stop smiling. But my gut says this isn't permanent. It's going to take a lot more than three minutes in the sanctuary to heal this mind. I sigh, and cradle my head in my hands. I have a chemistry lab due tomorrow, and my first AP psych quiz. There isn't time to just grow and grow and grow.  We have a life to live. This is the problem. I can't just stay at peace. We'll be back. I promise, we'll come back.