Lie number one you're supposed to have it all together And when they ask how you're doing Just smile and tell them, "Never better"
Lie number 2 everybody's life is perfect except yours So keep your messes and your wounds And your secrets safe with you behind closed doors
Truth be told The truth is rarely told, now
I say I'm fine, yeah I'm fine oh I'm fine, hey I'm fine but I'm not I'm broken And when it's out of control I say it's under control but it's not And you know it I don't know why it's so hard to admit it When being honest is the only way to fix it There's no failure, no fall There's no sin you don't already know So let the truth be told
Truth be told-Matthew West
Questions seem to be all I ask recently. Answers seem like a vague memory and understanding the why to anything feels like a dream. I find myself bowing my head to pray and simply weeping in silence. From the outside we all look pretty calm and collected, and that’s what we expect from each other. It’s what’s socially acceptable. It’s easy, it’s safe, it’s not a likely burden or a potential embarrassment to that someone next to you if you just keep it to yourself. Handle it on your own. Get over it. But is easier necessarily better?
It would have been so much easier for Christ to not pick up that cross, to not lay in agony for hours taking on each and every despicable thing inside of you and inside of me. It would have been simpler to wipe creation out and start all over. But God. He chose the extravagant way. When He looked at you, He chose relationship. And in this enormous beast affectionately dubbed life, He calls us, also, to relationship. Relationship with Him and with others.
When He looked at you, He chose relationship
Right now I have a grand idea in my head, one I feel is certain to lead to my happiness and if all this could just come to pass I could do so much more for Christ, so much more with my life. There’s conflict within my body, there’s emotional scabs That come to find out are peeling off, bleeding, scabs I thought had turned to scares long ago. There are mental battles that come with this life that no one likes to tread on. All these things and more, if they would just go away again, or at least not hit the fan all at once, then I could deal with them suitably and calmly on my own.
I wouldn’t need to get to the place of bringing others into my mess, I would be broken enough to cry, I wouldn't have to cry out for God to explain Himself. I could check these questions and hurts off the list one by one like a good Christian girl all while patting other people on the head and saying something along the lines of “oh I’m great and God is good.” God is good, but I’m not great. And for this season of life He’s not called me to anything that could be labeled as easy. When the first wave hits you can stand back up to catch your breath, but when the third and fourth and fifth tide come rolling in, you’re suddenly engulfed.
And in your complete and utter brokenness God wants to meet you there, not to leave you there but to walk with you.
Waves of grief, brokenness, confusion, tears, and hopelessness seems to all you see, all you can hear from the roar, all you can feel. But in the midst of being engulfed, what you think is the one thing the waves don’t have power over. And in your complete and utter brokenness God wants to meet you there, not to leave you there but to walk with you. I don’t understand why everything hits at once. But I know Christ has called me to relationship with Him and with others. And relationship means inviting that someone into your brokenness. But I still treat God like I treat an acquaintance. I talk of the weather, how much I like their shirt, and make some dumb joke so we can both laugh. It’s shallow and insincere. I hold myself back from what He already knows.
Psalm 22:1-2
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest.
Yes, we praise God, yes, He is good and has our best at hand. But if you’re in a place where you go straight to that just because you’re scared to question Him, scared to open those wounds, scared of what He and others think of you, is it really worship? Can you really be open with the community He’s given you? I found myself pushing to praise Him, saying
“ya it’s hard but it’s going to be ok, God is good, He’s on my side, He has a purpose.”
But it wasn’t real. It was insincere because I hadn’t invited Him into my brokenness, hadn't told Him the deepest longing of my heart. Hadn’t given myself a chance to ask,
“are you good?”
“Do you care?”
“is there something better than this, than what I think I need?”
“Do you care that the feelings hurt, that my body’s broken?”
While I know the answer to all these questions, and I know the truth, it wasn’t until after I opened the raw and ugly questions that I could come back and say with confidence.
“You are holy. You have my greatest in mind, you are molding me through this, you are here, you are worthy of praise, and you will not forsake me.”
Psalm 1:3-5
Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises[a] of Israel. In you our fathers trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them. To you they cried and were rescued; in you they trusted and were not put to shame.
So, for the woman who’s losing her mom, for the dad struggling to make ends meet. For the girl who can’t get over her body. For the man who just lost his father. For the boy fighting depression. For the friend who doesn’t know how to help. For the mom whose husband walked out. For the grandparent praying for a miracle. For the person whose body is failing. For the person who can’t lift their head today. He can handle your questions. He knows your brokenness. He weeps with you in the night. And When the morning comes, He will rejoice with you.
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