Yet I’m embarrassed to say I  found myself trying to pull something just like that at church the other night.

We were getting ready for communion, and as always, our pastor clarified who communion was meant for, and how to prepare our hearts for it.  For those who are believers, it was simply a reminder to be open with God on where we are, giving over to Him our struggles and just being honest with Him.

If I’m being honest, which is something I struggle to be here, I would have to admit there are some areas in my life that I am struggling with right now, and I’m having a very (read VERY) hard time giving over to God. So this crushing feeling of guilt is beginning to descend on me, because I know I have these areas that I’m still struggling with and I haven’t been able to give over to Him yet, when this little voice in the back of my head whispers a compromise.

All of a sudden, I find myself in a mental dance with God. I’m trying to reason with Him that since one of those areas that has been a struggle hasn’t been quite so bad lately, in fact it hasn’t been an issue in, like, 5 weeks, than surely that should negate some of the bad from the other and give me the ‘right’ to come to His table. Wow! What nerve on my part! Where do these thoughts come from!? Do I think He doesn’t know me or my life?

But then I am reminded. He does know. He knows my heart and the battle that rages there. He knows how much I love Him and how much I want to please Him. He knows me so much better than I even know myself. And while He doesn’t want to bargain with me, He will take my struggles and trade them for His peace.

Up till then, I could concede the point that I screwed up on a regular basis, but knew that God was always there, even when I went AWOL. Then we started the journey to parenthood.

It took a few months before I actually saw those two blue lines in the test window, and we were both giddy with excitement. We told family and friends right away, bought the bible of pregnancy (“What To Expect When You’re Expecting”), and daydreamed of what our little one would be like. We anxiously awaited that first doctor appointment, when he would tell us that everything looked as it should, and maybe, just maybe, we would see that little heart beating.

The day finally arrived, but things were not exactly as they should have been. We could see the sack, but no baby. The doctor wanted to run some other tests, perhaps our dates were wrong. That was when the dread and doubt began to worm its way in. Certainly God wouldn’t let anything happen. This baby was so wanted, so hoped for. But when the results came back, it was confirmed… no baby.

We were devastated and shaken, and inside, I secretly began to wonder how God could allow such a thing. I knew these sorts of things happened all the time, but to me? To us? WHY??

It took a little time, but we began trying to start our family once more. Now it was a bit more tentative, and tinged with anxiety. Would God be there this time? Perhaps if I prayed more, or was a better person… maybe He would allow us the joy of parenthood. Because I must have done something wrong the last time for it to turn out as it had.

Then the day came where I once again saw those two blue lines, but this time we were more cautious. We didn’t tell everyone right away, keeping our uncertain joy to ourselves. The last time, my doctor had determined I had low progesterone levels, and he wanted me to start supplements as soon as I found out I was pregnant again. Off we went to the doctor, and our first ultrasound was promising. There was the sac, and a little jelly bean inside. No heartbeat yet, but that was OK. All the while I prayed for this baby, for its safety, for us. Surely God would not get our hopes up only to dash them once again, right? At our next appointment, we knew we should see the heartbeat on ultrasound. The time leading up to that was a mixture of excitement and dread, hope and fear. And unbelievably (at least to me), I heard the doctor say he wasn’t sure, that things didn’t seem quite right. And with that, another strand in the cord of faith and trust in God was snapped in two.

A few months later we were pregnant for the third time. To say I was a tad nervous would be an understatement. Would we actually end up with a baby this time? Would God allow this child to be born into our family, to be loved and cherished and nurtured? Could I trust Him?

Well, that was over 13 years ago. This week we will celebrate the 13th birthday of my oldest child. The trust issue has lingered on however. Going through the process of hope and loss was a testing time for me, and I feel as though I have come out the other side lacking. Perhaps some day I’ll be able to reconcile a God who loves me with a God who allows such pain, but for now I guess I’m just not that mature. So I guess I’m asking for a measure of grace while I unpack the pain that I’ve kept hidden inside me for these many years, with the hope that I’ll learn from the journey He has seen fit to take me on.

~Psalm 107:10-21 (MSG)

Thank You Father!

that’s not me.

Pained and dying

inside and out.

Losing herself

body and soul.

That girl over there,

that’s not me.

Praising and praying

outside and in.

Living this life

body and soul.

Somewhere between,

there’s a girl that’s me.

Crying and laughing

inside and out.

Holding out hope

for her body and soul.

Wear My robe of righteousness with ease. I custom-made it for you, to cover you from head to toe. The price I paid for this covering was astronomical – My own blood. You could never purchase such a royal garment, no matter how hard you worked. Sometimes you forget that My righteousness is a gift, and you feel ill at ease in your regal robe. I weep when I see you squirming under the velvety fabric, as if it were made of scratchy sackcloth.

I want you to trust Me enough to realize your privileged position in My kingdom. Relax in the luxuriant folds of your magnificent robe. Keep your eyes on Me, as you practice walking in this garment of righteousness. When your behavior is unfitting for one in My kingdom, do not try to throw off your royal robe. Instead, throw off the unrighteous behavior. Then you will be able to feel at ease in this glorious garment, enjoying the gift I fashioned for you before the foundation of the world.

How often I try to throw off that robe! When I allow sin to run rampant in my life, the thought of being clothed in His righteousness does feel scratchy and uncomfortable. But He custom-made this robe for me. That means He knows when and how I would chafe at His mercy and grace, how disconcerting it can be to feel loved when I feel so unloveable. This soft, velvety royal robe is His love gift to me.

The past year I have struggled a lot, and the past few months in particular have been extremely difficult. It seemed as though nothing good could come of life, and I found myself spiraling downward. My walk with God became a stumble, and all I could do was question Him, my faith, and that deepest of all wonderings, why am I here? I’ve actually sat down to write many times, but never felt I could let anyone see the results. Because that would require me being honest with myself and others, sharing my short-comings and failures. It would mean taking a hard look at my life and thinking about, well, what exactly I was thinking, and I just didn’t have the energy to go there. It’s much ‘safer’ to stay in the dark, to let things slide. It’s also a pretty shallow way to live.

So, here it is: I struggle with my faith. Frequently. I struggle with life and my place in it. I struggle with guilt and shame and hopelessness.

But beneath it all, there is still a yearning, a faint whisper telling me that this will pass. And on the other side, a faith refined by the fire.

How much distance can I put between my broken heart and Yours?

To have known You and then become lost leaves me weak.

My chest ripped open, my heart and soul laid bare.

Pulsing, slowly, slower.

The agony of solitude presses in around me, squeezing, each breath coming hard.

Will there ever be a place where I’ll no longer feel what it is to be without You?

 Aware that the only way back is to still the pain, drown it out, perfect peace.

Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners

by John Bunyan

“Further, in these days, I would find my heart to shut itself up against the Lord, and against His holy word: I have found my unbelief to set, as it were, the shoulder to the door, to keep Him out; and that too even then, when I have with many a bitter sigh, cried, Good Lord, break it open: Lord, break these gates of brass, and cut these bars of iron asunder.”

I have really been struggling the past few months. Struggling with things outside my control, as well as my response to them. Struggling to maintain my faith that things are working out for some sort of good. Struggling with the realization that I’m so angry with God. Struggling with not being able to see the other side of the tapestry. Doesn’t He care how hard this all is? So often I feel ready to throw in the towel, on so many levels, just to be done with the pain and uncertainty and dashed hopes. Seems as though I get little tastes of what I could only describe as normalcy, and peace, then it’s taken away yet again.

I’ve been reading a book, Practical Theology For Women, and came across this thought.

“Stop trying to relieve yourself of the burdens that plague you. Rest, dear sister. Rest in the secure arms of your heavenly Father, who set your story in motion before time began.”

How hard it is to remember that He is lovingly and compassionately in control! He knows my story, authored it, and is working it out according to His divine plan. That He is using all of the circumstances in my life to shape me and mold me into what will be most honoring to Him, and for my utmost good.

 When anger and despair and uncertainty overtake me, when I cry out for Him to relieve me of these burdens that drag me down, I just need to stop. He is good. He is sovereign. He is love.

And I know at the core of my soul, that even as I am being my most defiant, obstinate and stubborn, drawing my line in the sand and chosing not to rest in Him, He loves me still. Amazing!

I really ought to know better by now…

My life is not terrible. It’s not peachy wonderful. I have struggles and frustrations and joys and satisfaction. But I’m realizing that those things that are at my core, those hopes and desires that most others would acknowledge and feel, well, I just don’t. Or (more likely) won’t. How many times have I gone to God, begging for a touch from Him, to heal the broken parts of me? How often have I prayed, pleading with Him to allow me to feel something, anything? And ended up feeling forlorn and forgotten as the heavens seemed to remain silent and indifferent.

See, I have this problem. It seems I’m a bit delayed in the trust department. No matter how much I want to let myself go, abandon myself to others (namely God), I seem to always freeze up. If I don’t make a specific request of God, I won’t have to be disappointed by the seeming lack of answer on His part. No hurt, no pain, no life.  And my prayer time certainly reflects this uncertainty. Vague, generalized prayers for good days and peace seem to be at the top of my list most days. I simply won’t trust Him with anything more. Cause when I do, He doesn’t answer the way I think He should. Instead, I do my best to keep my God small, and without any real power. He’s not rushing to “fix” things how I think they should be fixed, so better not even give Him the chance to let me down.

Wow, feeling so pessimistic these days! And -gasp!- kinda angry with God. I know, off to hell I go. And angry with myself for feeling this way.