The Beginning. Originally posted June 20, 2011

1 a.m.

3 twin beds.

5 people packed into the 8x10 room.

4 months of living like this, separated from my husband and my own home.

Instead of falling asleep to the sweet sounds of my children’s deep breathing, I’m trying to ignore the scrabbling in the wall and straining my ears to hear a clang from the kitchen letting me know I’ve trapped my quarry.

I’m tired, so exhausted that it is painful.

I keep crying out, “I just can’t do this anymore, I just can’t DO anymore!”  but I know it does no good. Not being able to go on is not a luxury I have right now; my body hurts, my mind hurts, my heart hurts, but there is nothing to do but just keep doing. 

The worst part is that there is no end in sight.  You can do a lot of hard things if you know that it is for a limited time. It’s when there is no termination date that it eats away at you.

I’d like to toss and turn but there is no room in the crowded bed.

The scratching sound by my head grows louder; I bang the wall a few times, softly enough to not wake the children, but hard enough to give the creatures on the other side of that 1/8 wallboard a message to move along.

I want to scream; I’d love the opportunity for a good cry, but I haven’t had a moment alone in days. In weeks.

I should pray.

But suddenly it all boils over and in my head I’m shouting,

 “Pray? PRAY?  Why? You know what I need, you know what I’m going through, I’ve been praying for months, why do I need to tell you again?” 

The exhaustion, the weariness, the pain, the loneliness, the frustration, the anxiety, the waves and waves of simply not knowing what to do; I’m overwhelmed and there isn’t a pretty little prayer left in my spirit.

I haven’t uttered a sound, but I’m spent.  I lay there, so tired that I’m honestly not sure if I’m awake or asleep.

And I hear it. I hear God speaking to me. “Though he slay me, yet will I trust him.”

What?

 Listen, if this were a story in a Sunday School paper, the voice would be speaking words of comfort and I would have a plan open up before me, a trail blazed, and the crooked paths made straight. But instead I get, “though he slay me yet I will trust him.”

Really?

REALLY?

God, what is going on?  We are trying our best, we are following biblical principles, we are asking for prayer, we are accepting counsel from godly people!  You are not moving!  You are not telling us what to do! 

I’ve always been told that when seeking God’s will in a situation you start by doing what you know to be his will. We are doing that and still nothing. The way that seems to make sense isn’t working out, and we are open to anything else, obvious or not, but the heavens are brass.

And in my heart I hear the reply.

“So all of your prayer, all of your ‘following biblical principles’, all of your doing the right thing, this is all to force my hand?”

No! of course not!  But isn’t that the way it works?  If we honor you, you’ll take care of us?

 “So I’m a vending machine.  You put in enough prayers and obedience and I spit out the answer you like?”

No, Lord, that’s not fair!  You see my heart and you know I’m doing what I’m doing out of love and obedience.  But everyone keeps telling us to just hold on and God will come through with an answer, everyone keeps assuring us that you have a plan and that in the right time, it will all work out. That is what I’m waiting for.  And God, you know, you see that I’m so tired. I’m done. I’m spent. I’m just… I just CAN’T!

Again I hear, but more gently this time, “Jody, are you more deserving than others?  Are you living more ‘biblically’ than my children in persecuted countries?  Surely if I owed anyone some answers, some favor, it would be those who have served me with their very blood?

I do have a plan for you, for your family, for this whole situation, and that plan is for good and not for evil.  But it is good that only I see.  My thoughts are far higher than your thoughts. My ways are above your ways.”

I’m sobbing now.

“What if my plan is not to ‘deliver’ you from this situation but to simply let you walk through it? No matter how long that walk is?  Do you still trust me?  Is that good enough for you? Will you still walk in obedience and follow the principles I’ve set for you if there is no promise of an earthly payout?”

My soul is being shredded, if this is a dream, let me wake up; if I’m awake, please God, let me fall asleep and get some rest.

“Though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him.”

Taken in context of the verses before and after it, Job 13:15 is even more powerful.  It is a man saying, “I’ve done what I know is right, I stand clear in my conscience before God, and I have decided that if he finishes me off, I still trust Him, and when I stand before him, I’m going to say, ‘I did what I knew to do.’”

I reached a breaking point that night.

 I will continue to do what is right to the best of my knowledge. I will continue to follow God’s known will that he has shown us in the scripture. I will continue to seek an answer and to be ready to change course when and if God shows us a new course to take.  Meanwhile, I just have to trust him.

 This is NOT the answer I want!

I want my wonderfully romanticized version to come true.  The version where we dutifully hang on, and then relish in the lovely provisions that God lays before us, and finally, look back and say with satisfaction, “whew that was a tough season, I’m so glad it’s over.”

It’s a choice.

 If none of what we hope for happens, am I still willing to trust him?  Not simply continue in the same actions, but actually with my heart, trust in him?

That is something that I have to decide to do daily. It means that I can’t continue to put life on hold while I wait for God to perform the miracle of my choosing, I have to keep plugging away.

I wish I could say that since this happened a few weeks ago, I’ve had a great transformation and found a new strength. 

Unfortunately, not really. (I know, so totally not a Sunday School story!)

 I’m still worried.

I’m still waiting.

 I’m still tired.

 I still hurt.

I still don’t know what the next step is supposed to be.

 I’m still terrified at making choices that will affect my family for years to come and wondering what will happen if we make the wrong one. It’s been months already. It might go on for years. I sincerely can’t look that far ahead or it becomes crushing.

I will say that in one sense the frustration is gone-for now.  I’m no longer angry because God is being so slow in dispensing my reward. I have had my faith adjusted and while a bit chagrined that I fell into the trap of false hope, I am glad that God is long-suffering and willing to correct. I will also say that I would rather be walking in hard truth than in false understanding. 

And yes, I did trap my critter.