Christa Black

Cicadas.  They’re everywhere. 

Every 13 years in Nashville, these nasty, winged creatures hatch from the ground like zombies from a horror flick, ready to inflict their plague on our town once again.

Studhubs was sitting out by our pool area reading last night, and I had the bright idea of surprising him with a romantic evening dinner.  I prepared the tray with salads, food, drinks, plates, and silverware and walked slowly down the hall from our loft to the outside stairs, wishing I’d had some waitress practice at some point as I watched the water slosh around in the glasses, spilling all over everything. 

By the time I got to the outside door, dusk had fallen, and the outside pavilion lights marked my trail down the stairs toward the pool area.  The lights were great for helping me see, but they were horrible at attracting cicadas, who clung to the walls with their skinny legs, circling the lights like vultures.  The second I walked outside with that tray, (dun, dun, dun), the nightmare began.

This Biblically proportionate swarm of cicadas (ok, so maybe it was more like 5 of them, but they were BIG), decided they’d have a little fun and fly around my head, chirping and screeching like dive bombers on a mission of war.  One of them felt extra bold and landed on the right side of my head, flapping it’s disgusting, little wings until it twisted itself in with my hair making a big ball of wings, legs, and beady little eyes.

My lack of tray experience before the attack had been amateur, so when they started coming after me, you can only imagine what happened.  I instinctively began to fling my head back and forth like a head-banger at a Metallica concert, flailing like a little ragdoll, screaming at the top of my lungs, and swatting with my elbows in a chicken dance—all the while attempting to hold onto the tray full of food.  (One of my more attractive moments in life, I might add). 

CRASH.

Glass went everywhere, I screamed something I probably shouldn’t have screamed, and I stood with my romantic little dinner in shambles. 

(And I’m not even lying—one of them just attacked me AS I WAS WRITING THIS OUTSIDE!!!  I officially HATE cicadas!!!)

The thing with this cicada epidemic is, it started small.  There were only a few of them at first, and people around Nashville were buzzing about how ‘maybe it won’t be so bad this year’ and ‘we had a late freeze, so maybe it killed them off.’  I went on tour for a week and a half and when I got back, they were gross and bad (I mean, they are bugs), but they weren’t everywhere and they weren’t really bothering me.  But now…..ayyyyyyy.  You can drive for 30 miles and still hear their little mouths screeching away (like nails on a chalkboard) while sitting inside your enclosed car with a loud engine running. 

We’ve all had plagues hit our lives and hearts.  It might be the plague of addiction, depression, or abuse, or it may be the plague of pride, anger, insecurity and fear.  You might be living with the plague of an eating disorder or maybe the plague of cutting.

The plagues in my life always ended up strong, but every one of them started gradually.  Even my first times binging on food, I didn’t immediately adopt addiction as a lifestyle.  One bad decision or broken moment led to another bad decision and moment of weakness, leading to more and more and more.  One day I woke up, and I was living in a full-fledged plague.

Those attacks on our lives can be like these little cicadas, chirping and screaming at us constantly.  Sometimes the voices die down for a bit, but the constant ‘buzz’ in the background is always there, disrupting peace, freedom, and wholeness.  Weakness and addiction takes cheap shots at us, dropping in and fighting our heads and hearts.

Some of you have been writing into askchrista@christablack.com and asking me all sorts of questions, and a common theme has been, ‘How do I get out of this horrible state that I find myself in?’  (usually through addiction to food, fear, cutting, or all sorts of things that have invaded our lives).

When I was first learning how to find freedom, I wanted to snap my fingers and be zapped into wholeness.  But what I forgot was, I didn’t snap my fingers one day and find myself in bondage to a plague.  It came on slowly, subtly, like a sly snake slithering up to it’s prey.  It took years of bad experiences and wrong patterns of thinking to get me into the cage, so it was going to take some work, repetition, and will to get me back to clear skies.

Studhubs used to always tell me, “One right decision leads to another right decision, Christa.  Every time you make one right decision, it empowers you to make the right decision next time.”

YOUR TURN:

Is your life bombarded by a plague of fear, worry, addiction, depression, etc?  Do you sometimes feel overwhelmed and don’t know where to start to clear the air and start over?

Make one right decision.  Just one.  If you’re prone to binging at night, then post scriptures and truth statements on the fridge and in the pantry, or maybe send notifications from your phone of how God is always strong when you are weak, or you can’t be tempted beyond what you can bear. 

Make one right decision to begin loving that person that you’ve hated, or responding in kindness instead of anger.

Make one right decision to stop drinking in the middle of a medicated binge, or for putting down that razor when you want to cut.

Make one right decision to look in the mirror and love yourself, instead of ripping your reflection to shreds.

Make one right decision, and you’ll make another.  Empower yourself to make the right choice, and give yourself grace to then make another right choice.  If you mess up, GREATER GRACE.  Don’t throw in the towel and believe the lie that you’re back at the beginning.  Just make one more right decision to pick yourself up off of the ground.

Someday, you’ll have made so many right decisions (one at a time), the plague will have lifted, and you’ll know the freedom of clear skies.

Love you guys.  Believe in you with ALL my heart.  If you know someone who is struggling, forward them this blog.  Get the word out.  We really CAN find freedom, wholeness, and friendship as we lock arms and do life together.  You weren’t meant to do it alone, and you actually can’t.  You were meant to be loved into wholeness by the God who made you and by the people around you. 

More to come.

Xx, Sista Christa 

(PS.  I’m not hanging out in public places naked, as it looks like in the video.  Don’t you worry…I’ve got my swimming suit on).