Pressing In

There are moments in life when everything stops. It feels like an atomic bomb has gone off in your soul, and you’re left standing there, dazed from the explosion. Everything feels… dreamlike. You truly ask yourself, “Am I awake, or is this a dream?” It’s hard to know in that moment. What you do know is that you are in the middle of a nightmare—you just can’t tell yet if it’s real.

Hearing the doctor tell me—moments after Autumn’s birth—that she had multiple health issues, and then ending his explanation with, “Mrs. Roberts, this is lethal.” That was my first experience with this.

Staring at a CT scan with a picture of a golf-ball-sized tumor in the center of my sixteen-year-old daughter’s head was the second. Walking behind a gurney while that same daughter was being rushed down the hall in a medically induced coma—while a respiratory therapist straddled the gurney, breathing for her with an Ambu bag—was another. And finding my husband had passed away first thing in the morning, before I had even wiped the sleep from my eyes, did it to me again.

These are just a few of the moments. There have been many, many more.

People have asked me how I did it. They want to know where I found my strength. What did I do in the moment it happened? What happened when the daze wore off and I realized I’m wasn’t asleep? What did I do when I fully came to my senses? How did I keep my mind engaged while everything is swirling?

First, I should mention that wiring plays a big role in this. God has hard-wired me to function well in a crisis—thank God. I may not be firing on all cylinders at first, but I purposely will myself to stay calm.

Why? Because I know this: if you lose your composure, you will be removed from the situation. Someone will grab you and escort you away until you regain control. Now that…I don’t do well with. In a crisis, I need to know what’s going on. I need to be present. I need eyes on the situation.

You’ve seen it on television—someone in a hospital loses it and starts screaming. Then the next thing that happens is they’re escorted out of the room. Then they’re left sitting in a waiting area until someone decides it’s time to come talk to them. That is not for me.

So, I remain calm until it’s safe to break down. It’s a rule I’ve set for myself, and it has served me well through everything I’ve walked through.

The second thing I do is begin what I call pressing in.

When everything has hit the fan, I turn inward—because that’s where the Holy Spirit is waiting. It’s very much like a child bursting through the front door and screaming, “Daaaaaaddyyyy!”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath in, and let it out slowly. Then comes a very short phrase: “Oh, help.”

This is the moment His strength takes over.

I can’t do it on my own, but He can give me supernatural strength—and He always does. I often say I don’t know how people do this without God, because I honestly don’t. I do not possess the ability to walk through these things alone and keep my sanity.

I know where my help comes from, and I’m not ashamed to say it. He is not just a crutch. No, my friend—He is the very legs I stand on.

The next thing I do is gather information. What happened? What can I expect? What should I be praying for? How bad is it, really?

After I’ve gathered what I need to know, and after everything that can be done in the moment has been done, I sit down and have a really good cry. All that pent-up emotion has to go somewhere, and in those moments I sound off like a tea kettle.

After the storm of emotion settles into a quiet stream of tears, there’s always a pivotal moment. It’s the moment when I decide what my posture toward God is going to be.

Am I going to get angry and scream at Him? Am I going to give Him a tongue-lashing for allowing this to happen? Or am I going to run to Him for strength and comfort? Honestly, I have done all of these at one time or another.

You will have to make that decision—right then and there. And you have to keep making it, over and over again, until the storm passes-and sometimes, you even have to make it long after the storm has already passed.

After walking through this cycle many times, I’ve learned that this is the critical moment—the one where I must truly press in.

What do I mean by pressing in?

Picture a child running to their mama and burying their face in her chest. That’s it. That’s pressing in.

I bury my face into the chest of my Father.

I talk to Him. I say, “I love You. This changes nothing about that. Thank You for being here with me. Please stay close. Give me strength to represent You well. Don’t let me ruin my testimony or disgrace You. Help me stay strong. Show me what to do. Keep me on my feet. Speak through me.”

In those moments, I press in forcefully. I want my face buried so deeply into His chest that it’s hard to breathe.

Then I begin reminding myself of His promises. He will not leave me. He will never forsake me. He has a plan—and even if I don’t know what it is, I know it’s going to be good.

I direct my heart. I tell it what it’s allowed to think and what it’s allowed to say. This matters. This is where you remind your heart that God can be trusted, no matter the outcome.

Sometimes I do this by reading Scripture aloud. Sometimes I sing songs about His faithfulness. I do whatever is necessary to bring my soul to a place of firm conviction that God is good—and that He can be trusted with my life and the lives of those I love.

I have to do this because my heart will lie to me if I don’t. Pain will distort the character of God if I let it. I have to tell my heart to mind its manners, or it will lead me down insecure and unprofitable paths.

This is how I’ve maintained my faith through so many storms. This is how I press into the Savior.

When I press in, He takes it from there.

He handles the storm. He keeps me upright. He keeps me strong.

I don’t have to be strong—He is.
I don’t have to be faithful—He is.
I don’t have to be able—He is.

If you’re walking through a storm right now, press in to the Father. He loves you. And He would love nothing more than to have you bury your face into His chest and let Him handle the storm.

Just press in.