Consider
it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever
you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing
of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance
finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not
lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask
God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it
will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not
doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea,
blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to
receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is double-minded
and unstable in all they do.
James
1:2-8
It's
1:43 am. Jet lag is a beast. My mind won't rest. So here I am. I am a
little unsure of what to say because everyone has so much to say
these days, so maybe the purpose is just a little bit of soul
searching for myself. Maybe it's facing the lies that have been
tormenting me for too long. I have bought into the saying of “rub
some dirt on it” as a way of coping and dealing with life. And it
just doesn't work.
After
several years now of what seems like significant trial after trial,
I'm really tired. After a difficult accident, a hard time in Spain
where I felt sick most of the time, another surgery, a suicide
followed by deep grief and loss that cannot be resolved, and
loneliness, I start to focus more on the suffering than on the One
who I should be finding joy in. Job's grieving in sackcloth and ashes
and even the scraping of wounds doesn't sound crazy in the least bit.
The facade of cool, calm and collected has fallen once again. I feel
overwhelmed and mocked once again. I wonder where my Savior is and if
he is good.
I
think I lost it for the millionth time when I keep seeing a friend
who is silently struggling and won't speak. I lost it for the
millionth time coming home from an amazing trip to Thailand that
reminded me that my body has literally been broken and does not seem
like it will ever completely heal. I think I also lost it when it
seems like everyone else's life moves forward with no bumps while I
feel like I'm a punching bag for Satan. I just couldn't keep it up
because I'm so tired of everyone pretending like it's all okay all of
the time when I privately hear the same struggles expressed over and
over again by others and myself. Whether Satan likes it or not, it is
time to speak truth again.
Holly
and I were standing in the most ironic Buddhist temple ever built.
Wat Rong Khun, known as the White temple, is beautiful. Google it,
let your eyes take it in because you will not see the darkness until
looking a bit closer. Snared and contorted faces can be found in the
midst of calm, relaxing ones. White concrete hands desperately reach
from the bottom of somewhere at the bridge leading to the entrance of
the temple. Light is reflected by the temple. People come to
make merit and bow down to manmade statues. I could see and recognize
the darkness of it all and even questioned myself as I took pictures
of it. Was it right or wrong to take pictures? Everything about this
place seemed like the biggest lie ever.
I
felt quite physically broken as we walked into the temple. I was
talking with Holly expressing my frustrations. Nothing was right. I
was on the trip of a lifetime and my feet and legs were more swollen
than ever, and I had just fallen off of an ostrich (weird, I know)
and thought I possible broke my ribs (because I do know what broken
ribs feel like and this hurt!) It just seemed like the biggest joke
in the world was being played on me as I lived through pain once
again. Could I ever move somewhere again that requires walking and
warmer temperatures or will my legs always give out? What is the
purpose of being 28 years old and in a body that feels like it's
breaking down? Why do I get to suffer the injuries?
I
shared with Holly the attack I was feeling. I told her that I was
tired of being tired. I told her that it seems so unfair for others
to walk seemingly less difficult trials. I reflected back on the past
year and saw God as distant and uninterested in my life. Satan was
playing a trick on me. I was in pain and had been physically attacked
in the two areas of my body that have been broken by two separate car
accidents. Was this a coincidence? I couldn't help but to imagine
Satan laughing at me reminding me that he's the ruler of this world
and that he does in fact ask God to allow us to be challenged,
tempted, and broken. I was so mad because shouldn't God come help me
this time? I keep following time after time but I am really tired of
the joke being on me. I heard others around me say that God allowed
these things because he knew I could “handle it” and then I
called bull crap because I about went crazy hearing that junk (maybe
I said something different, don't judge). I said that no one can just
“handle it” apart from God's grace and I was sick of hearing that
same lie from people who mean well. Rub some dirt on it because you
can take on the pain. Rub some dirt on it because THEN it will feel
better. Rub some dirt on it THEN you will forget that you've
been cut open and are bleeding. I shared some frustrations with Holly
and she shared some truth with me.
It
wasn't profound. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. She just
told me that God has good things coming oftentimes when we face
trials. For whatever reason I felt hope for the first time in a long
time. I felt like maybe, just maybe, God was weaving some grand
tapestry and he hadn't forgotten the small string that I represented
among the millions in that tapestry. Maybe the darkness that I had
felt emotionally wasn't futile. Maybe the physical pain was to draw
me nearer and nearer to him because I can be too self-reliant. We
continued to walk around the temple and I refused to relent like
times before. Maybe the Spirit stirs in me in these times through my
stubbornness. So I prayed for the people of Thailand. I prayed for
God to tear down, literally, this ugly place of worship that puts on
a mask of light. I prayed for Satan's rule to end and for Thailand to
be a place where people are known to worship the true God. And I gave
myself over to him again because once you experience truth you can
never convince yourself of anything else. It's like when you know
2+2=4 you cannot ever be convinced that 2+3=4 or even 2+7=4. It's
impossible.
Tonight
I decide to keep trusting him in the early hours of the morning even
though it all still hurts. I decide to walk forward even though I
have no idea why I go to a Greek class at 8:30 am but this is the
place in which God has me now. I decide to let it go for the
millionth time because as much as I see the foolishness of bowing
down to manmade idols, I always find little idols firmly planted in
the depths of my heart. I can guarantee I'll go through this same
process at another time probably sooner rather than later, but I'm
calling bull crap (or something else) on rubbing some dirt on it.
Instead of seeing brokenness as a bad thing, I'm choosing to trust
that all of my brokenness is to help me rely more on God. I don't
like it, and it hurts, but it is required of us as believers in the
one true God who cannot be made into a manmade object. He is
terrifyingly beautiful and majestic. Words cannot contain him, our
minds cannot fathom him, and he is above all, so bow down before him.
He
is the only one who takes broken things and puts them back together
again to make something extraordinarily beautiful. I'm counting on it
because everything I have is broken.
