I am done.
That’s what I tell myself. Or maybe what I hear. I hear it
in the early hours of the day. I hear it as I slip into sleep.
Done.
I know. You’re hoping for me to finish the sentence. Well,
okay.
With waiting. With hoping. With dreaming. With believing
that something will be made from the ashes. (Don’t even start with the “beauty
from ashes” songs. Don’t. even.) With praying. I prefer yelling. Maybe
sometimes mixed with begging.
I asked Him. Asked Him for years not to make it turn out
this way. I played and replayed the “worst possible scenario,” and still it
came.
I can hear the laughter in the background. Sinister
bellowing.
Fine. You win! Cause, yep, you guessed it. I am done.
But here’s the dumb thing. I get paid to talk about God and
what He’s done. I get paid to talk about what He’s doing now. Sometimes it
sucks. Last week I was counting cursor blinks.
One, two, three, four…
What could I possibly have to say? Umm, I don’t get Him.
Umm, why does He allow the wicked to prosper? How should I know? They’ve been
prospering for years. Umm, yeah, I have a serious list of all my
disappointments and a few complaints for Him. Can I use that?
Also, did I mention I was dealing with parables. They make
me nuts. NUTS.
No, they aren’t easy because they’re stories. They’re hard.
Shocking, disturbing. Yes, they mess with me.
But do you know what also happens? Somehow I start typing.
Writing out silly things about God sending the Holy Spirit to do the work we
can’t possibly do on our own.
In the end, there are paragraphs of words. Words I believe.
Words of what is buried deep in my heart. The deepest places in me that wrestle
with the mysteries of God. And I realize I would defend Him with everything in
me, though I have no idea what He’s doing. I can’t make sense of what He’s done, but I love Him.
Next, I’m forced to write about Advent. It gets easier. The
writing, that is. Not Advent. Because it’s mixed with groaning, and as much as
I smile when I view the purple stolls across the Eucharist table, I hurt for
friends lost in brokenness and uncertainty this season. For friends waiting and
hoping for good news. For those feeling betrayed, by their bodies, their loved
ones, and maybe even their God.
I come home and fry up tostada shells, and I pray.
I ache. I utter. I sigh.
I’m not done. To Whom else could I go?
3 comments:
"And I realize I would defend Him with everything in me, though I have no idea what He’s doing."
I love it.
Also, I've felt the same thing writing curriculum. Sometimes just the doing of it helps with the believing of it.
Reading on the coexistence of doubt and faith this week and came across this definition by Lynn Anderson:
Faith is the will to believe. It's the decision to follow the best light you have about God and not quit.
Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.
Well done, Becca.
Becca, I've been lurking for several months, and I read this post yesterday and had to wait till today to be able to comment.
Oh girl! I don't know you beyond what you write here, but if you believe at all in prophecy, hear this.
You are not done. You are SUCH a long way from done that you wouldn't even believe it. What you are, is pregnant. Remember that feeling when you're 8-9mths due, and you're so heavy and tired and you can't get comfortable for more than a couple of minutes no matter what you do, and you have to keep going to the bathroom day and night and you get heartburn just from drinking water and you can't even hardly breathe?
Spiritually speaking, that's where you are.
Like I said, I don't know you. But I read your post last night just before dinner, and I couldn't comment then because my 4 kids were running crazy. I couldn't comment this morning because I had to take my youngest to playcentre. But this comment has been weighing so heavy on my spirit that I had to keep hiding in the art cupboard to stare into heaven and try to refocus my soul back on the playdough table!
You are pregnant. With what, I have no idea! But God is working on birthing something through you, and you are feeling the weight of it. There's something odd about spiritual things - they're often the opposite of the natural. So where in the natural you feel full to bursting with new life waiting to be birthed, in the spiritual often you feel emptier and emptier and more and more frustrated and dry and desperate for something... you don't even know what, but SOMETHING has to happen. And soon!
Someone (sorry, can't remember who) talked about 'a divine discontent'. As in, the discontent is God-given. I know this feeling, which is what you're writing about. I wonder if it's like what the birds feel at the end of summer when it's almost time to migrate. They get restless and antsy and want to go somewhere, they're not quite sure where, and it's not time yet, but there's this feeling inside them that is stirring them up and won't quit.
God is at work. Can't tell you what exactly He's doing, but I can recognise the signs. Something is in process, and you are in the in-between, not-quite-yet stage.
I'm not going to say anything about beauty from ashes (lol!), but read Job 14 v 7-9. You may think you're done. Everyone else may think you're done. It may look like you're done to the entire world, but when God choses to send even the scent of water to your spirit, you will 'bud and put forth shoots like a plant.'
Like I keep saying, we don't know each other, and this is an incredibly long and somewhat odd comment... :) I wanted to email you, but couldn't find your email address so the comments box has to do!
You are in your own Advent time - hold tight to what you have until God brings what ever He is doing behind the scenes, into the open. It will be worth the wait!
Donna
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