Do I Have PTSD?

Yes, of course I do.

You might see it when I suddenly seem lost in thought, or when I display an abnormal amount of emotion (especially for a Stephen).

If you attending worship at Sterling OPC last Sunday morning, you definitely saw it when I tried to preach. I started the sermon with a momentary breakdown and effusion of tears, then proceeded to preach in a frenetic and anxious style that resembled a car engine that is unable to stop revving.

I don't mind being the subject of an issue, though I prefer having an object outside of myself. But I do mind being under the spotlight when it is not under my control. I will erupt in singing in a public place without hesitation. I will not erupt in singing if someone asks me to sing. I need the control.

That is why these clear effects of PTSD concern me. I normally dictate the terms of various social engagements and whether I am angry, depressed, or embittered--you probably won't know. Unless you read it on my blog over the course of the deployment. Or unless you know me now. Because my constant deflections and confident demeanor are proving to be a thinner facade than I could have possibly feared.

On a practical high note, I have often been as skilled in deceiving myself regarding the condition of my heart as I have been in deceiving others. I mention this as a high note because this coming to terms with my obvious messiness is surely an emotional breakthrough that is years in the making.

I will be preaching on Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. And in God's providence, this is the perfect time for me to hear God speak as it will be to proclaim His Word.

At the beginning of the passage (Luke 22:39-46), Jesus instructs His disciples to pray in order to withstand temptation. As we read later, they fail in this instruction. They seek into the sleep of the spiritually dull rather than offer their hearts in prayer to their captivating God.

But that is not the main focus of the passage. The focus is what Jesus did in the place of the spiritually dull, by humbling himself and by His perfect obedience.

As His disciples poured out their hearts in sleep, Jesus poured out His own heart in prayer. Even with the aid of an angel, Jesus undergoes unfathomable agony (the term in the Greek connotes a great battle). Since attacking Him in the desert, Satan has waited for a more opportune time to assail and tempt Jesus (Luke 4). That time has arrived.

The human will of Jesus but also do battle with the divine will of Jesus. Being very God, Jesus can surely say to the Father, "Thy will be done." And He can say that as One who has been with the Father from the very beginning, enjoying the blessed fellowship of the Trinity.

But He is also fully man, with a human will. He knows the cup that He is about to drink--the cup of wrath that God says He will pour out in judgment upon the wicked. He is about to experience the hellish forsakenness of the Father--a punishment rightly deserved by mankind.

And being fully man, Jesus falls to the ground, and in His agony, casts drops of sweat upon the ground like blood. If any man could sense what the wrath to come would be like, it would be the God-man, Jesus Christ. If any man could know what it would be like to be utterly forsaken by God, it would be the One who enjoyed His divine fellowship before time began.

But He does it. Our precious Savior stood in our place, fell in our place, prayed in our place, suffered and died in our place. Satan would tempt Jesus into taking any course but the cross, but He refuses. He acknowledges that man would never sanely seek the cup that He is about to drink, yet He submits to the will of God.

As man slumbers and neglects to lift His heart to God, Jesus not only provides an example of what mankind should have done and should do when undergoing temptation, He did it in their place. Knowing better what He was to face than any man every good--the wiles of Satan, the wrath of God--He prostrates His heart and undergoes psychologically what He will soon bear physically as well. He will fill the cup of suffering to the brim, then have the cup of wrath poured upon Him down to the dregs.

The disciples go down into sleep. He goes down into the ground, bearing the imagery of blood. When He arises, the Sun of Righteousness bids these sleepers arise as well. But they arise after He has symbolically already descended and been raises. He bids them pray amidst temptation, but they do so now as those who have already had the Master Prayer offering His perfect obedience in their stead.

I know pain and heartache and humiliation. But I have not known Gethsemane. There, Christ bore a burden I can never bear. There, Christ prayed my prayer--one that would conclude with "Forgive them," and "It is finished." And He ever intercedes for me now, offering His blood and righteousness in my place.

Satan entices my gullible heart to believe that my next attempt to preach God's Word will prove a failure. But I need not fear His temptations, accusations, or condemnation. Only Christ can condemn, but He instead intercedes for me. It is His withstanding of temptation that makes all the difference, so upon the grace in which I stand, I will not fear.