I Have No Answers

Things have been hard the last 8 months. Last week, I was in tears talking to my friend at a busy Starbucks, sitting and shivering outside in the cold at a wrought-iron patio table. She was sipping hot tea and I told her, "I feel as if God is relentlessly smashing and crushing me and all I can do in response is hold out my arms and say, 'hold me, hold me.'" The last 8 months had led me to this rock bottom confession to my friend.

I don't know how to describe it. I was just....declining spiritually. Struggling. Even my friend noticed this over the last several months. I was in a constant state of being overwhelmed and stressed. I felt as if I was stumbling, trying to keep up with everything that was happening, the worries I was harboring in my heart, burning with resentment against my organization who I felt had put a millstone around my neck and thrown me out to sea to drown (which is not true), frustrated with being quick to sin, in a constant storm of pessimism and complaining. The last 8 months pushed me relentlessly to the point where I was reaching the very end of me and I was quivering at the sight of beyond. 

I know I have this pattern of rubbing a genie lamp, trying to earn rewards from God. I have a habit of forgetting what grace means. When G lost his job, I kept feeling that if we were super diligent in honoring God with our money, God would be pleased and give G a new job. As a friend reminded me, that's not what grace is. I keep trying hard to be perfect with my quiet time, being in prayer and in the Word, thinking that God will give me relief from this mounting pressure inside of me. I knew I could not control my circumstances but I could at least control the state of my spirit by clinging to God. I tried to think of what sin could've caused me to fall into such a spiritual malaise and tried to repent, not sure what the sin was. I got rid of possible idols in my life (cutting out TV, movies, etc) that could be filling me up with happiness before I go to God. I had periods of time, as long as a few weeks, when I didn't have my quiet time, didn't pray or read. I had periods of time when I was regular with it. I recently had days when I couldn't even read the Word. It was as if the Bible was in another language. I had no comprehension. My prayers were rambling and jumbled, half-hearted. I couldn't see anything clearly. I couldn't remember anything about who God was. I was losing sight of everything.

I'm not so sure that all this effort (or works?) to earn relief or joy or peace is the response God wants. If God changes my circumstances to give me relief, it's grace. If He supplies strength, it's grace. If He chooses to bring me out of this spiritual dryness, it's grace. I think, more than anything, God wants me to believe Him and continue to believe in spite of all the discouragement, despair, and setbacks. More than anything, He wants my faith. 

When I choked back my tears of despair at Starbucks, my friend looked at me. She made me an offer that G and I could not refuse. She and her family would watch our girls so we could get away from the city to meet God at the Black Sea. It didn't sound so great because I was shivering in the cold when she made the offer and the thought of spending the day at the windy Black Sea wasn't appealing. 

"I don't need to get away from the city. It's not bothering me," I said. "It bothers you more than you think. You won't know until you get away," my wise friend countered.

So, G and I went. It was a lovely, dark, wintry afternoon...a moody day that reminded me of a Charlotte Bronte novel. We sat on the bluff above the beach, bundled up in blankets, and watched the roaring waves roll in and out, constant and dependable, as they have always done for ages past. The simplicity of the tree-covered bluffs, the wide beach, the waves crashing far out from shore, the dark gray clouds over the dark gray water, some birds flying by periodically presented a picture of peace. We were not bombarded with stimulus of the city, kids, computers, phones, guests, chores. Stress rolled away. We finally began to pray together and met God in a sweet way, with confession and supplication. Contentment filled us and we fell strangely silent, His Spirit confirming in our spirits that He had heard and we need say no more but to rest in Him while we gazed on His beautiful, wild creation. Nature is definitely meant to be soothing to our souls, as necessary as breath is to the body. 

Maybe one day, I can better articulate why I think believing is more important than doing in your spiritual dryness and hard times. For now, I'm getting through one day at a time, waiting for God.