It took me a long time to realize the toll it was taking on me.
Because the truth is, I love to hear people’s stories. I have a Master’s degree in psychology to prove it.
But I also have a history of seeing life through fear-tainted glasses.
It pains me to admit the way it still affects me, because it would seem that a girl who loved Jesus the way I do would just be able to get on the plane without checking the weather reports repeatedly. She wouldn’t sit, back against the terminal wall, while her friend (thank you, Heather) strokes her hair and tells her if we need to stay, we’ll stay.
I had tears running down my cheeks and I told her I had to get over it.
She spoke softly, and the words fell gently but with much weight.
“And this is part of your life now…”
Yes. The irony of the plane and the girl who doesn’t want to speak is laughable. I did laugh, I think.
But then I looked back at the weather patterns.
It’s part of my life.
All the babies that didn’t wake up from naps and the ultrasounds that bring tears and all of the mommies and daddies who cry…
I need to feel community with these sweet sojourners, but I have realized that sometimes I need to take a step back. With the best of intentions, I had backed myself into a corner where it felt like babies never woke up from naps, and doctors only had news that destroyed lives.
It was making me lose hope.
It might be a different scenario for you-maybe divorce or abuse, or any number of things, but I’m willing to bet you have felt it too.
That voice in the back of your head that whispers, “Why did you ever think your God was good to begin with? And trust Him? You must be out of your mind…”
You may have named that voice, as he most certainly has one.
But you also have a voice.
And you don’t have to watch the weather patterns to know the One who controls them.
You just have to believe He does.
I have realized that for me, sometimes enough is enough. It doesn’t make me a bad person to say, “I don’t think I can read any more emails like this for a little while.”
But it’s not just the emails. I think sometimes in our humanity we are drawn to that which confirms the worst about life. Buildings explode. People are sold, abused, and killed. Planes fall out of the sky.
I’m not trying to paint a morbid picture here (and to those of you in the fetal position vowing you will never click on an (in)courage post again, take heart…), but I think sometimes we need to call it like it is.
Life is hard. Hope is elusive.
But God wins.
His good, never-failing, constant, abiding, true, deep love…it wins.
And by actively choosing to recognize that, even if it doesn’t completely swallow my fear the way I wish it did, helps me evaluate my days through a different lens.
When I’m lost in my thoughts and I can’t move my back away from the terminal wall, He will still win.
When the call comes in the middle of the night and I’m fumbling for the phone, sweating in terror, He will still win.
It doesn’t mean it will always look how I wish it would, and it often doesn’t. I’m face-to-face with a huge fear in my life right now that I wish I could just erase and pretend didn’t exist. But I don’t want to shrivel up and miss the beauty for the ashes.
All this madness…it isn’t forever. Thank you, Jesus, it isn’t forever…
I’ve run so hard, in so many directions, for so long…and I just need to remind myself that the race is not finished here. These momentary losses are nothing compared to the spectacular truth of eternity, and my life should whisper that.
Have you felt the sting of this life, friends? Is there a place in your life that you need to hear this reminder today? I speak from a place of ultimate humility, but with the confidence of a King’s daughter.
Set your sights on that truth, no matter the battle.
Your Father is coming to win the war…
By: Angie, Bring the RainLeave a Comment