Having all the world come crashing down has a way of making dependence and trust in the Lord a life or death matter. Everything is far too complicated, far beyond even preliminary understanding, furthermore.
There's absolutely no recourse except to trust Him. And how many times was request given of Him to destroy self completely, that He would lead? How many times request for solitude that the only solidarity may be in Spirit? Even to turning all.
And yet I'm so fickle and so flighty and so fearful and so given to hiding and running away from forthrightness. Except that the Lord lead. And overcome.
So, hopeless. Hopeless, apart from Him.
I can't do anything. I can't even speak forthrightly. I can't manage to be present, mentally. I can't drive from one place to another. I can't get into and out of bed in a reasonable manner. I can't manage daily functions. I can't maintain anything necessary to life. And am utterly and totally and completely incapable of interacting with others in a way that's not harmful to them and myself. I am utterly and horribly wretched. And I want Him to crush every last bit of all this which exalts itself, still.
Because it's horrible. And people I love get hurt. And I get hurt. And it's dishonoring to God. And that's utterly unacceptable in the midst of a world that already defies Him. I don't want to be a reason that other people scoff and mock at Him. I don't want to be a reason that my brethren stumble. And except that He sanctify and cleanse and transform and conform, though, there's such continual irritability and impatience and fearfulness and abashedness and shame as makes a mockery of my own testimony. I can't in one instance be ashamed to acknowledge Him before others and in the next tell Him I love Him. Can't be ashamed of myself as loving Him, in one instance, and the next speak of my devotion.
These aren't to be so. And they are unacceptable. And I would rather pit my own stomach than continue in such a way.
But as with today, coming to that crux of determination...there arose a fear-driven impetus to speak willfully about Him. And it seemed just as wrong. I prayed and asked Him to direct me in what to say and how. Asked Him to guide and lead and give speech. And waited, willing to speak plainly whatsoever. Willing to ignore the fear of rejection for the sake of loving her whom I would have liked to speak with of Him, and for the sake of loving Him (who also loves her). Willing to speak and to ignore fear and to ignore embarrassment at seeming foolish. Which is wretched to even acknowledge, let alone to experience.
But it's so. And I despise it, of myself. But I await His deliverance and His leading, nonetheless. He has, He will. And in the meantime, I'm hoping and praying He'll keep crushing me to the point where there'll be nothing recognizable remaining, except for what resembles Him and His explicit will for my being.
I love my God, my Savior, my King. My Jesus. Or ours, as you will.
I do. And I'm tired of being knotted up in fear over rejection.
I mean, yeah, being physically assaulted for calling Him sufficient to be my husband, while attesting to love of Him...did definitely leave a psychological mark. But it's no excuse for backing down.
He will help me be bold and will help me be unabashed in proclaiming my love and devotion. Even as He'll help me in living these, in becoming loving and devoted...in ways I've never known.
I still feel as though I don't know love. I feel as though I don't know how to love. But I saw what He did. He let me see His own heart in that instant, and what was there was beyond comprehension. And unwavering. Even being so human in that instant. Absolutely devastating.
But aside of that, aside of Jesus, Himself...I haven't much known love. I've known what it passes for in this world. But that's not love. Not at all. Self-gratification and self-indulgence and arrangements of convenience and felt obligation...are not at all love. Or, if any smattering exists therein, then only by God's grace.
Jesus endured, though. He endured all my scoffing, my mockery, my rejection, my sneering defiance, my enraged resentment, my horrid embarrassment over Him. He endured all these, and my lies--self-deceptions manifest in so many ways, and otherwise constituting duplicity. He endured and took them from me, unto Himself. To free me from them. Then, why are they all so present, still?
Why is there so much tendency toward wretchedness?
If He's allowing me to see this, now, He will heal me. And if it takes me acknowledging my most shameful of all acts...being embarrassed to acknowledge the one I love in the presence of others--for fear of rejection and mockery and derision...to whatsoever extent publicly, again and again, just to be free from so doing? Then I am going to prayerfully proceed in so doing.
Because it grieves Him, and I end up a broken mess over even that knowledge. And it's unworthy. And wretched. And I am so sorry.
I don't deserve His forgiveness. But He does forgive. And I just hope and pray He'll keep me from this wretchedness and rewrite my heart not to be so fickle and faltering. Because though Jesus forgives, there are still real consequences.
I can't do anything. I have no idea what else to do.
Whatever the Lord's will. I can't do this on my own.
He will help. There's nothing else for it.
And in the midst of all things being tested, yet again.
However He wills.
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