There are such times of grief, and seeming toil, when nothing but strife is continual. And even so, the Lord affords momentarily an oasis, brief respite.
Have we not all been in the throes of turmoil, these last two years now? Nearly unabated.
And for each cresting wave which falls, then a brief pause before the next, the rapid breath afforded seems sweet but panic is so near.
The Lord has been so gracious. I can't even bring myself to openly speak of the depths of some of what He has afforded toward me in the last six months, for the breadth of the mercy shown, on a scale which is absolutely beyond all comprehension. Why He would grace me with such tender care is absolutely beyond understanding. Like moving mountains to grant a shrub sunlight to live. And yet, He has.
Staggering.
There has been no one else to plead my cause. I have sought for help, all the while knowing that even so if there were to be any mercy it would truly only originate from Christ. No matter how circumstances might shift, the recourse which ever seemed possible then still was only help if He ordained it may be so. And He did not ordain it to be so.
Rather, instead, He left all possibilities aside. And altered the very fabric of society, instead.
I am utterly undone by such things.
Even as, last summer, before the furnace was well-and-truly stoked elsewhere in preparation for the proposed use of me (and so many unfortunate others) as kindling...He opted to deliver one dear to me from death's firm grasp. I am grateful not to be the only person who stood to witness that in a substantial measure, for the instance.
There's a peculiar and blessed joy in having solidarity with Christ, alone--for all so many instances as He has wrought the impossible before my eyes, ever while I have in recent years some-what consciously pleaded with Him for deliverance and aid (panic-stricken and wholly at a loss for the terror of circumstances and the impossibility, again and again). Then, there's a deep blessing there. He has been my sole companion and comfort at so many times, and in so many ways.
Moreover, I'm the more sorrowful to openly recollect once again, in light of all this else, how quickly my heart turns to desire "more." The griefs of life are too many. The fears of uncertainty and the loneliness of consistent solitude weigh heavily at times. And, more than perhaps everything else (given the complex weight of this particular), the desire for marriage remains a keen yearning which does not long abate.
Once again, then, this is my public confession of unfaithfulness to Him. That in the midst of His delivering me from the very chasm of hell (which I had earned, by all rights), lifting me from the miry pits of torment in this life even (many a result of my wretched sins), and drawing me into His love again and again--displaying so clearly His faithfulness and dependability--I stray yet again. And again.
And then, in the midst of the darkness when all seems most dim and the torments of various oppressors close in--shadows lingering from time afore and those wrought fresh, alike...in the midst of the darkness, there is His sweet voice, calling me. Reminding me. Silent, yet calling nonetheless. Like a song my heart, my soul knows--a melody yearned for, returning at the fray of consciousness.
I cannot see Him, still. I cannot hear His voice, truly. But His presence lingers. His peace, sweet peace.
All the more grieved, to reflect on how quickly I turn from Him when the torments mount. So many griefs.
I am so unsure of whether it has been right or good to speak as freely as I have with some, these past couple of weeks. There's always the fear of erring against others, in so doing. That, in fact, would it be better to be silent and unknown than to tempt dishonoring others by speaking of past griefs which have shaped me? Does anyone other than the Lord need to know?
I don't know.
And that's where I am now. I don't know.
I don't know which way to turn, or whether what is most honorable and loving is to submit to griefs all the more--though I cannot bear--or to depart? What should I do? How should I be? How can I be what will please Him? And honor others?
How can I love well?
I don't know, sometimes.
So, as always. I will wait upon Him whom I love, whom my soul loves, though I have not yet seen.
How long, Lord? How long? Have mercy, dear Father. We are nothing.
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