The Waiting Quest

Unsettled. Uncertain.  Confused.  Lost.  Hurt.  Angry.  Sad.  Why?  After all, I know the Answers.

Yes, I know the right Answers, as I read over and reflect on Biblical truths. But there’s this Grand Canyon sized gap.  Between my daily reality and the Answers.  I’m on one side looking across the canyon at the other side, far, far away, a tiny dot in the distance.  That’s where the Answers live.  No bridge.  No way to get there.  No GPS. The enormity of what I see is mind boggling and heart wrenching.

There is a map with wonderfully detailed directions to somehow reach the other side and take ownership of the Answers. But everything is fuzzy and unreadable.  No comprehension.  No routine, no predictability, no formula, no procedure, no clue.

I’m not handling this well. I’m not doing this right.  At all.  I over react and recoil from the pain.  I back off inside of myself and respond with absolutes, final declarations in my mind and heart.  It’s too hard, no more, I can’t.  I curl up in a ball and say, again, I’m DONE.  And that hurts because it shatters what I thought could be. And then the guilt comes.  Because I can’t give up.  That’s not even an option, ever.  Yet when it hurts I want to.  That yearning to give up hurts as much or more than the pain that caused that overwhelming desire in the first place.

Trying to connect when there are literally worlds in between, where the difference is as vast as two different planets with different solar systems and different rules and different everything. And I want to stop just because the going gets tough.  Yet it’s not tough at all in light of what’s at stake.  My instinctive protective preservation desire to stop is primal and self absorbed, and wrong.  And, well, wimpy.

Then I crave the silence. And I write, pray, read, reread, listen to music, regroup.  Breathe.  And in the stillness of self reflection and shifting focus away from myself and my pity party, I realize that I over reacted, again.  And I reached out to a network of support in desperation, again. And I find that I reached this state of desperation way too easily.  Again.

I’m so loved and prayed for, when I stand in a much better place than so many others. Yet I receive unconditional love, and I’m lifted up without any hesitation.  I’m beyond appreciative and grateful.  But I’m still doing it wrong.

I want to stop allowing myself to be hurt. I want a thicker skin, and a focus not on myself but on God.  I want to surrender – not give up, but surrender to Him and allow Him to guide me.  And I want to accept this new season.  But not from a position of defeat.  I want to accept what is with hope.  That seems paradoxical, but I know it’s possible from a spiritual standpoint.  I know I have unlimited hope in Jesus Christ, and that with Him all things are possible.  But everything is all tangled up and knotted in a mess of emotions and stuff I don’t know what to do with.  And the Answers still live far away on the other side of the canyon.

I don’t know how to loose the knots. I don’t know how to untangle everything.  I don’t know how to get to the Answers.  I don’t know anything.

Except.

Except I’m not alone. I am not on this foggy hazy rocky sharply twisting turning up and down all directions path by myself.  I know this.  I feel this.  I sense this.

I’m still lost. Still clueless.  Still frustrated that I’m not getting it.  I can’t see what or where or why or how.  And I stumble, and stumble again.  And it’s uncomfortable and painful.  But I’m not alone.

Ps 121:1-3  I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come?  My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.  He will not let your foot be moved.  He who keeps you will not slumber.

He keeps me, and He doesn’t take a break. Ever.  In spite of me.

He goes before me.

John 10:4  When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.

He goes before me on this journey. He feels, sees, knows, everything.  Before I do. Before time began. And speaking of time, I realize that this is an issue of timing. I want to know NOW.  He will let me know When. It’s. Time.

So I wait. And in the waiting, I try to rest in the truth of His presence with me.

Ps 27:14  Wait for the Lord, be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!

 

 

Published by laurismith88

I have always enjoyed writing. Seeing my heart on a page helps me learn about God, about life, and about me. God has called me to take this passion to the next level by sharing it. My hope is that as you read what God has laid on my heart to share, you will be positively impacted.

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