"I still act like an orphan I guess
And my hard heart breaks to confess
That even while you hold me
As I cry on the floor
I still don't know how to be yours"
(How to Be Yours- Chris Renzema)
Questions, so many questions. Ones that never seem to find answers. As I sit here writing this, another wave of pain threatens to engulf me. Pain. It seems to be the center of my life now. It’s been all encompassing now for over five years. Pain took my job away; it stole some of my dreams. It left me out of countless memories I longed to be a part of; it drove me to weeks of sleepless nights.
In a constant stream of pain, it’s so tempting, dare I say enticing, to stop fighting, to let yourself drown in it. I did. I think it’s not that hard to believe. When pain is your number one feeling every day, from every area of your body, and sometimes your mind, you almost expect someone to drown.
I think we all do. I mean, we all experience pain, we all let it engulf us at one point or another. We sink into it, because it’s reliable, it’s constant. And maybe if we stop fighting for positivity or hope, or whatever, we can’t be disappointed again, we can’t be let down. So, we shell up and decide to stop feeling anything but pain.
"HE clothed her in strength, HE clothed her in dignity and beauty and majesty. The fear of HIM was the reason she could smile at the days to come."
People have a lot of opinions about your pain. How to fix it, how to respond, what to stop doing, what you should do. But there’s certain kind of pain that’s chronic, that can’t be fixed. One that only you know deeply, one that you experience like a shock wave every morning. Maybe it’s physical, maybe it’s mental or emotional, maybe it’s all the above. And people just want to fix it. You don’t have to go through someone’s pain to give advice, don’t discount their help. But don’t discount the fact that you’re allowed to grieve either.
Yahweh Rophe, The Lord is your healer.
If you were to ask me if I believed this last year, after losing a job and college to my body, after being bed ridden for months, I probably would have said,
“ya.”
I mean, I’m a Christian, a believer, saved by grace, whatever you want to call it. I know God is this. But did I actually know what that means, what it entails, what God wants to heal? You see, a year ago, I didn’t know what needed healing. I thought I did. My body, duh.
“It’s a wreck God, what the heck, why can’t it be over, why can’t someone diagnose me?”
This is what needed healing. If I could get my body to be normal, my life would be perfect, everything could go as planned. I would never have said this out loud, but it’s what I wanted with all my heart, a cure. But just a physical one.
Yahweh Rophe, The Lord is your healer.
Over a year later, and I’m still healing, Yahweh keeps finding broken and diseased parts of me that He wants to heal. No, physically there’s been no healing. But maybe that’s why. Maybe there’s something that was even worse off, was so badly infected it was symptomatic in every area of my life.
Proverbs 31:25 “Strength and dignity (also beauty and majesty) are her clothing, and she smiles at the days to come.”
My heart. It’s greatly diseased, its covered in fear, pride, selfishness, greed, and anger. So is yours. It doesn’t end when you decide to trust God. It ends in the fact that you are kept in Him, that the cure is there and ready for you. But, for the rest of your life on this earth you are chronically ill. You’re ill with sin and all the pain that comes with it. I am saved and kept by my God, but there is so much sin it takes the rest of my life to root it out.
My heart needed healing this year, I was clothed in fear every waking day, terrified of my future. My pride took a blow when people started handing me money. And the anger I felt was overwhelming at times. But fear seemed to be at the forefront of everything.
“what must they think of me?”
“Does God hate me?”
“What happens to me if I never get better?”
“I can never be in a relationship, it’s too much of a burden.”
Many people have called me strong. I am not. It’s the overwhelming amount of weakness I feel everyday that reminds me of that. In her book, “She Smiles Without Fear”, Katy Mccown writes:
“Our strength increases and decreases based on what we face and our physical condition at the moment; God is all powerful and remains the same yesterday, today, and forever.”
This strength you see, if you see it, it doesn’t come from me. It’s come from the moments when I fall on my knees, bawling, yelling, and declaring,
“God I can’t!” “Take it from me Lord, I can’t, I cannot carry this anymore.”
And you know what He says. He says no, not yet. Maybe not ever. But He carries it with me, He always has, He always will. He picks me up and sits with me. He counts the millions of tears I cry; He holds me fiercely when I want to retreat back into the pain. It’s akin to the way Jack holds me when he knows I’m screaming lies at myself, when I’m in so much pain he would do anything to take it from.
He holds me.
My dear, it is ok if you retreat into the pain for a time. There are going to be moments, days, weeks even when you start to drown. But I’ve found the secret to rising to the surface time and time again.
It’s fear.
That makes no since you say, fear is what cripples me drowns me. No darling, I’m talking about an awfully specific type of fear.
Fear of the Lord.
That’s it. That’s the only fear you need to allow into your life. You see, that’s how the woman in Proverbs 31 did it. It was never about earning it or how much she did. It was placed on her, by Yahweh Rophe. HE clothed her in strength, HE clothed her in dignity and beauty and majesty. The fear of HIM was the reason she could smile at the days to come.
And that’s how I smile. Grieve the pain, it’s ok to not be ok with what’s going on. But then fear HIM. Fear Him darling. Let Him surround you with the healing and peace you so desperately thirst for. And then rest. Rest knowing who holds the days ahead of you.
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