Dark times. Don’t I hate them sometimes. The other day, after returning to work after Spring Break, I was really struggling. Still am, truth be told.
.
Am I an utter fool? I must be. He’s never coming back. I had decided to stand against what I knew was a lie – that I had left him completely unaffected. I knew it to be a lie. He is too careful and cautious, too mindful of letting himself get swept away – those weeks of what I found in his eyes were not what crops up as easily as weeds in a more unstable man. He could not have changed me so absolutely, colored my lenses so indelibly, and remained so unmoved himself. I am not a foolish teenager; no schoolgirl. I outgrew my pigtails long ago. I knew what I was seeing in him. And what I was seeing in his eyes when he was looking at me.
.
He is seriously incapable of being selfish when he needs to be. No matter how much he wanted to make something real with me, the thought that he would cause me pain staunched that impulse like a tourniquet. So it’s entirely possible he truly misses me, that nothing else feels right after me, that I’ve ruined him for anyone else, and I’d never know it because he wouldn’t return for fear of hurting me again. He doesn’t think himself worthy of the trouble and effort and risk. But I know – I know – that he has not forgotten me. That his view of the world is as subtly and universally tinted as mine. I know he remembers the sweetness and openness that he said so enchanted him.
.
But, man, is it tough sometimes to imagine his stubbornness – born out of a lifetime of putting others’ needs above his own – could be overcome, even if God intended him for me. I know him. He is strong. Strong enough, stubborn enough, unselfish enough to stay away all his life, never allowing so much as a whiff of his presence to be detected, even if it kept him unsatisfied. Stupid man.
.
It just is too ridiculous, this whole purpose. Interpreting all these Scriptures as proof of my place as ezer kenegdo. I really am a fool, aren’t I? How would he ever come back? It surely is too good to be true.
.
After a stupid straw bruised my back Monday night, something that should have only elicited a tolerant groan of irritation instead of driving me to tears, I just stood beside my bed and said, “Sorry, God, I can’t go in my prayer closet now and find you. I would have to still and quiet my soul and I can’t do that right now, so I’d just be wasting your time and mine.” I stilled the fluttering of my ribcage as much as I could as I stood there, obstinately facing the door, my arms laced around me like armor. Then I got in bed and, just on a thread of an impulse, just on the off-chance God might meet me where I was blinded by more than my tears, I opened my Bible.
.
The fan flipped some of the pages and I found myself at Jeremiah 31:22 – “A woman will surround a man.” A part of me just wanted to shake my head in dumb frustration. I half-heartedly flipped randomly again and found myself in Psalms. First I found Psalm 139, describing how God knows me, hems me in, before and behind, and fearfully and wonderfully made me. The tears started coming and while I was blinking them away the fan flipped a couple of pages to Psalm 144. My eyes fell on verses 12-14, catching especially the last verse: “There will be no breaching of walls, no going into captivity, no cry of distress in our streets.” I flipped a whole section of the Bible and found myself, wonder of wonders, at 2 Chronicles 20, the story of Jehoshaphat facing the Moabite and Ammonite army. I had been given this passage when I was first being attacked in this purpose. "[This army is too strong for us.] We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you.” And the response: “Do not be afraid, no not be discouraged because of this vast army. For this battle is not yours, but God’s . . . Take up your positions, stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you.”
.
At that point, I just cried out, “God, what do you want from me?!” And I wept in my exhaustion and discouragement.
.
Next morning, I sat in the dark of my prayer closet, eyes aching from the crying the night before, and was quiet, mulling over the four passages I’d been led to. It couldn’t have just been accidental. Of all the verses in the Bible to turn randomly to. All four verses have been important to me in these last few months. And I began to wonder if a correct interpretation would be:
- Passage 1 – my purpose
- Passage 2 – my comfort
- Passage 3 – my promise
- Passage 4 – my instructions
.
It’s been a rough week, feeling like the worst fool for this ludicrous stubbornness in holding to this purpose. Feeling left and abandoned all over again. Thinking, as I did in the early days, “One day everything won’t remind me of him. One day I won’t think about him all the time.” Feeling alone and unlovely and crushingly ordinary in this life. Feeling sexless and womanless, nothing more than a body. And all the while knowing my God doesn’t change. That his heart’s desire is for this man to be free, and if it was his heart’s desire a month ago, it was a millennium ago and it will be tomorrow. That he has proven himself worthy of my trust and proven himself faithful.
.
This has to just be the most subtle, most pervasive, and most powerful attack yet – to make me feel so completely ordinary and unoriginal. Like I am an idiot to think I could be special enough for a transcendent purpose like this and actually hope to see its fruition with my own eyes. So I can only keep my helmet of salvation in place and know what I know and wait to see what God does. For he will surely fight for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment