There are days where there are no words, only tears. Wrapped in every tear is a complexity of emotions difficult to understand, impossible to describe.
The undercurrent of raw emotion is a wish.
A wish for different although different is undefined. One would think different could be easily articulated. If only it were that simple. What does different even look like. Feel like. It seems so far away. Outside of the realm of possibility so it is hard to imagine.
In the grieving process there is a tendency to cling to the way things were meant to be. What was supposed to happen instead of what happened.
Begs the question.
Was it supposed to be?
I expected it to be. But was it supposed to be?
We journey this thing called life in a fallen world on a planet called Earth. This side of heaven where the realm of disappointment, hurt, and flawed human existence rules the land. Yet, there remains this expectation of a timeline of events that we measure our life journey by to define happiness. When things fall outside of that order, we grieve what we believe we were owed.
I never planned for the days to include the misguided steps along a broken path of life to be how my story was written.
Yet, it was.
Leaving me on this page of a chapter I thought would be different inside of a paragraph trying to understand how the next sentence should begin. I have laid the pen down. Stared at the page. Blankly. At a loss for words. The wetness of the tear drops will have to dry before I can write more anyway. So, I’ll wait.
What shall I do as I wait?
“Be still and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth”
Psalm 46:10
Today is a hard day for stillness. We feel obligated, at least I know I do, to dig deep and assert myself into an action that I perceive to be reasonably expected to define the different I long for. Even though I cannot clearly define what different is, I can clearly communicate I have a desire for different. We have come a long way from what I thought we were going to be. The walk has been rough. I anticipated a season of hard. Just not this long. Not this hard.
As I wait upon the Lord, I am busy being still. The world around us defines our what to do in times of waiting. God defines it differently. He says: seek me, trust me, come to me, praise me, worship me, and allow me to be your source of joy in the seasons of wait.
For me to submit my wait to the Lord I have found that it requires me to believe a few things.
I must believe in his goodness. Always. If I believe he is good, always, I know that he is even when I “feel” different.
I must believe in his unfailing love. Always. If I believe in his unfailing love, always, I know that even in my hurt his love has remained unchanged.
I must believe he is sovereign. Always. If I believe he is sovereign, always, I know that even when I struggle, he is not because he is in control as he works all things together for my goodness and his glory, as I wait.
I must believe he is faithful. Always. If I believe he is faithful, always, I know that I can trust him with the deepest most intimate pieces of my life because he is unchanged, unwavering, and worthy of my wholehearted faith.
I must believe he is, simply put, God. Always. If I believe he is God, always, I know that he is the God of the universe, Creator of all creation including me, and more than I could ever really hope to understand as his ways are better than mine, thoughts higher than mine, and his perfect will is just that, perfect.
My life is in the safest place it could be, the palm of his loving hands.
The hands that took dust and formed Adam then Eve knowing they would later knit me in my mother’s womb.
The hands that stretched across Calvary in my place to pay the price of my sin and shame giving mercy I do not deserve.
The hands that hold the scars from those nails for my benefit.
The hands that graciously held me as he breathed the breath of His Spirit into my life forever to never be the same again.
The hands that will lead me into heaven with him as I take my last breath on this earth.
The hands, this side of heaven, as I journey this life in a fallen world on a planet called Earth, that lay upon my head pouring abundance of blessing I do not deserve because of who He is never what I have done.
In his hands, I can…be still as words are replaced with tears.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”
Psalm 34:18
In my humble brokenness, I wait upon the Lord with anticipation of his goodness.
He is worthy of my wait.
Bobbie
