Things feel particularly chaotic right now. For various reasons, some of which I'm aware.
I'm presently injured. Not desperately or irretrievably or even for an extended term. No. Mercifully not.
But pain still has a way of doing the same as all else--either inciting one to press into the Lord or dive into sin...either of which in a seemingly direct proportion to the level of pain. Trauma incites this course within us.
I've lived it and seen it, again and again. And I'm not sure but that whispers of it aren't also evident throughout Scripture...
...the Israelistes hungering and thirsting (presumably so?) in the wilderness, rather than casting themselves on God they cast themselves against Him by complaining. Instead of turning to the One who provides, they turned to self-pity and castigated God's role in their perceived predicament.
...Job enduring losses and losses and suffering beyond measure--even that godly man whom the Lord, Himself, looked upon favorably questioned God's wisdom in the midst of abject suffering and perplexity. Rather than continuing along the course he began when saying "the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away, blessed by the name of the Lord."
It's very human. To turn to sin--to turn to self and against God--in the midst of pressing circumstances. Or even in the midst of ones which are pleasant, which is a different sort of strain on our affections.
Either way, it's of our fallen nature to exalt self and pander to self rather than pressing in to submitting to God's will, trusting His provisions, and crying out to Him all the course of life for deliverance and strength.
Yet He chooses us in the fires of our afflictions.
And refines us, our faith, as silver is refined.
In dire circumstances, it often seems, we're broken apart at the seams. We're reduced to our utmost nature, more clearly. And we end up seeing the wretchedness which remains. If we know Him and cherish the Lord, we see that for what it is. If we don't, we delve more deeply into that darkness most oft. And become all the more accustomed and desirous of it, as perceived shelter and refuge as self defining.
I've been so moody in these pains--emotional, spiritual, and now physical pains. Familial longings which are not to be met, or at least not with any immediacy...yield again to a deeper grief of separation, knowing more keenly the depth of that divide between us. Socially, as well, with ones who have been beloved along the course of life--I cannot heal, I cannot save, I cannot provide that which is most needful. I can only direct to Him, and love by what means He gives. Chastely.
Yet, the grief, still. Anguish of knowing that divide unbreached by faith in the only Healer who never fails.
And there's love, in the midst. So impossible. All the more to grieve. I cannot breach the divide.
I cannot place the hands of those whom I love in the hand of my Deliverer, my most deeply Beloved--He who shed His blood for them, as well as me, that they too could receive forgiveness and be reconciled with their Maker.
So my heart's been heavy with the burden (so I've been told it is) of loving particularly some who absolutely refuse Him and desiring above all that they would come to Christ, because I know too the peril they remain in if they don't. Solace is found in knowing Jesus is far more concerned than I am, far more invested in their salvation than I am. And He drew me out of circumstances as bad as and some worse than those presently considered.
This pain, too, though: The anguish of loving people who remain at odds with me by remaining at odds with Christ...
...it also is one which can result in turning from Him, or in having dross skimmed.
The pain is wearying, even turning to Him continually. Trusting Him, weeping. Pleading again and again.
I have to give it to Him, constantly. The grief, the pain, the concern. I can't carry it myself, alone.
Yet even then, there's the temptation to despair wholly. There's temptation to seek distraction. Even to seek distraction in community and engagements which would not honor God. For the sake of fleeing the pain, seeking panacea apart from God's own love.
Though that would be unto bitterness, as turning away from God in the midst of grief. It would not heal, but further harm me.
Like as with this arm injury. If I sought to run from the pain too much, obscure it by false means...I could complicate the healing process by obscuring the given sign that something's wrong. Rather than heeding the pain, wading through it and enduring by God's grace...
I could mask it and incur further injury.
Or in the midst of it, as I've battled out (and failed so many times) against self-pity and discouragement...I could despair. And that despair could turn me to my own devices, bitter against the Lord.
In the wake of griefs and pains and injustices (my injury was incurred as part of medical procedures, thus huge temptation to bemoan injustice, unfairness, etc)...there is such a temptation to justify self, apart from God. Which is turning against Him.
We have no justification apart from Christ.
We just don't. We're all standing in position of having erred against God, and He's perfect and holy and our life-giver and sustainer. We're completely botched everything, ever having been inclined to just think ourselves independent and act as such.
We have too low a view of Him to realize how utterly horrific that actually is. Otherwise, we would realize that we truly deserve eternal damnation, eternal death, eternal suffering. Because we--created, finite beings...fickle in all our affections and actions--ever dared assert ourselves against as though equal to the infinite, holy, unassailably good and wise Creator who ordained our existence and maintains our being.
We are exceedingly ignorant.
And in our pain, we often use pain to justify further defiance. It's not justifiable on any count.
Ever.
But in Christ, we can find mercy. If we just turn to Him, deal with the reality of His pre-eminence and sovereignty, deal with the reality of our sins' deserved punishment and how atrocious it truly is...and ask Him sincerely for forgiveness and submit, desiring He would lead us in the right way. And He will.
He doesn't turn away anyone who submits to Him as God, dealing with reality sincerely.
And then the process will continue. Pressures, pains, evidence of wretchedness, turning to Him for mercy, and being forgiven.
I just can't do the things, myself. I can't be long-suffering as He is. I am too prone to complaint, to despair, to self-pity, to diversion.
And I want love and compassion, rather than to endure suffering. Which...He lavishes love and shows compassion on me in so many ways, in the midst of suffering. I've been overcome in the past week, recognizing some of His provisions to me in the midst of this present increased trial.
Just, in the midst of it all, I am dealing again with the desire for a husband, for a family. Dealing again with what it is to long for that sort of companionship, present. But I'm not able to manifest it, rightly. And I can't just align myself with someone--no matter how fascinating, no matter how I may adore them, no matter if I love them...apart from God's guidance.
And especially when there are glaring deviations from what it is to serve Christ. Because I cannot in good conscience considering aligning myself covenantally with someone whom I am sure is not in position to lead me, spiritually...which, foremost, requires they are following Christ, themself.
And if evidence establishes that as not being the case, then there's no ability to consider otherwise.
I'm not my own, to give. I belong to Christ, who bought me with His blood. My life is His. The life I live is His. And that were true even if it weren't the case that I, by all rights of nature and humanity, should be deceased physically so many times over--from the fall from a balcony and numerous suicide attempts and total recklessness and danger again and again, over the years of my defiance.
Lord, I am broken. I can't do the things set in front of me, Father.
I can't love, rightly and purely and without qualms or complaint.
I can't bear through, Father, without continuing to crumble.
I can't do this.
But I trust You. You have guarded me.
You have preserved me, despite my efforts otherwise at times.
You have many times given me strength and wisdom when I was incapacitated and blind.
And even lately, You have provided for my needs in ways which I never could have anticipated or so aptly planned for had I even known the need to try.
I know You are with me. Your peace is all which keeps me from despairing utterly.
Your lovingkindness and mercies evidenced in so many little ways all the day are what give me the joy to have strength to continue.
Lord I love You, and I am sorry for being so faithless and so fickle and so inconstant and easily distracted from You--the only One who is able to keep me and who loves me beyond measure.
Please help me to turn to You continually in this all.
When I don't understand and when I think I do, Lord let my praise still be only of You.
Help me love those You've set me near, in ways which are upright and which direct to You.
Help me Father, to do Your will. To walk in a manner worthy of You.
Lord I trust You. I can't do this. Give me strength, guide my steps, guard me, give me speech Lord.
Help me. I love You.
Thank You, Lord.
