Sweat made my nightclothes cling to me. Morning had come once again and disturbed my sleeping state. This time though, I wasn't too upset about that. Some things you just wish you could leave behind, wish they'd never happened, and you could take an eraser to your own history and blot it from your memory and everyone else's. It was my fault. How did it take me a year to realize that I needed to quit blaming him for my own mistakes? I deceived my parents. I lied. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and yet I led him on anyway. What was I thinking? I know what I was thinking. It was new, no one had been forthright in the past and said, "I like you, will you go out with me?" A whole new experience, and what attracted me was the danger of the situation. Hah, danger? Silly word to use, but for me, it was a daring thing to go behind my parents' backs and their direct orders.
And that is what brought on a year of guilt, shame, hesitancy, and depression. Wow. I think God knows what He's talking about when He uses everyone to speak to me to tell me I'm doing wrong. That was one heck of a month too, what with everyone on the same topic, every function, every discussion, and I knew it. I knew what God was telling me, and I covered my ears and kept going. When it came to my will versus that of my Lord and my parents, I was bull-headed and stubborn, and they were just trying to protect my heart.
My forehead was still damp, with some of the wispy curls sticking to it. Another dream; another disturbing, mentally torturous nightmare.
You remember Frodo, how on Weathertop the ringwraith gored his shoulder? Every subsequent year, his wound would ache at the recollection of his pain. Every October seventh, he would battle with the memories of that night.
It has been a year. But did I ever really get over it, did the saying "time heals all wounds" really ring true? If it did, then I have no idea why I was still haunted. It wasn't the fact that he kissed me. It wasn't even that I felt I had given a little piece of my heart away. It was the knowledge that I had directly disobeyed a direct order and was reaping the consequences. I was so at fault for so much.
Throughout the day, I felt like a drone, attending to necessary tasks, but not feeling anything. But the Lord has His ways of working and pulling me back to Him, to understand that I will mess up, as much as I hate it, but that He is always reaching, pursuing my heart and desiring to be the object of my affection. After a Thursday night breakdown session, in which everything tumbled out in Bible study in a messy heap, I went home and cried. But it wasn't that the salty drops were from self-pity, or even that things hadn't gone my way, but more that I realized how utterly screwed up I was, and how much it was I to blame for my own problems instead of everyone else. And a phrase surfaced in my mind... a sweet memory of a time in Mexico.
"I will sing a new song to the Lord." It was a new day. The past is unchangeable, all it can do is offer the experience to help us see how we must change our attitude, our outlook, and how we are supposed to view our Lord's forgiveness. I am forgiven! I am freed from that sin, He took it from me the day I brought it before the cross on which He had removed every wrong thing I had ever done. Why was I wallowing? I am supposed to rejoice in forgiveness and learn from my mistakes, not to commit them again, but also not to let them become a barrier to the happiness my God has in store for me.
It is a new day, and a new chapter is beginning. The pages are already being stained with the ink of history's pen. Friday morning dawned bright and clear. A new day. And the burden was gone.
"He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon
a rock, making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth, a song of
praise to our God." Psalm 40:2-3
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Certainty
The alarm sounded for the third time on a Thursday morning. In my opinion, six-thirty should not be seen on the clock face unless it's PM. To be a licensed driver has it's pros and cons, one of the latter being the fact that I have to take my brother to his private school every morning, except Wednesdays when I actually have to be in my own classroom before he even has to leave the house. Loser. Anyway...
It's a wonder how all during the summer I take about an hour and a half to get up and be ready for work, but under the pressure of the academic schedule, I can be ready in 30 minutes. I was late getting into the car, the dashboard read 7:37, but the engine roared and then hummed to life smoothly, and I was gone. Letting off my brother at his school entrance, I continued on my way, turning up the radio to a station I actually wanted to listen to. That was probably just because I needed the noise, I wasn't actually listening. Oh, and I drive with my windows down, so at stoplights I get these looks from old people like, "Teenagers, ugh."
You know those certain times of the morning when the entire FM network goes on commercial? Yeah, I think it's a conspiracy. That happened, and I hate listening to those, so I hit the power button. What a morning to leave my MP3 at home. Windows down, the coolness of the morning whipping through the inside of the vehicle, and the sound of rubber tires against the different types of pavement made me realize just how noisy my thoughts really were. There was no way to concentrate on sounds, or even one line of thinking, everything was going at once. In some ways I wish I was more like my mother, at least she doesn't begin thinking until about lunch time. But the philosopher, theologian, romantic and teenager were all awakened in me at near eight in the morning. Can there be coincidences, or is it ALL supernatural? Why is predestination such a hot topic, and why didn't God make it clearer, or did He and we just haven't figured out how to interpret it? Or is it one of those things He just requires us to always lean on Him and learn from Him, because we'll never know the full answer until we get to heaven?
All those thoughts began to clash with ones that pertained solely to me, my wants, needs, studies, work, etc. "So-and-so has a well-rounded education." I've heard that before, and yet when I meet someone who truly is good in many ways, I feel so inadequate. An example, this person is amazing at volleyball, the piano, singing, people skills, writing, mathematics, and blah, blah, blah. I don't know anyone quite like that... but you get the idea. I look at my own paltry accomplishments and sigh. I shouldn't, and it normally doesn't bother me because I like what I'm good at, but it's those moments when I get caught in the compare snare when I feel ugly. But I digress.
Over the course of my day, it seemed a cloud hovered over my head, my own personalized storm. And of course, when you're blinded by problems of the world, it sidetracks you and you miss the one way out, the off ramp to the right destination. Thoughts were blazing through my head at lightning speed, most of them dark in nature and I couldn't understand it. Ever since God revealed Himself and His love for me at the beginning of this year, these episodes had become almost non-existent, but here they were, and back with a vengeance. I didn't feel I had the strength to fight it, and I doubt I did even if I were to try out of my human power. The entire day I was downcast and physically exhausted from trying to bear up under the weight of this.
Midnight was almost near, I flopped to one side of the bed. Too warm, I rolled to the other side. I almost dreaded falling asleep, because who knows what kind of dreams would accompany unconsciousness. Then it felt as if a command was uttered to me. "Pick up Spurgeon by your bedside." And for some reason, I did. Normally I would complain and deny something that told me to stay awake, but this was too clear. All I had to do was find August 14, and the verses which reflected off the page to my eyes instantly made sense. "Thou, Lord, hast made me glad through thy work." Psalm 92:4. The gist of that page was that, though as Christians we undergo "common trials and troubles of the world," that was nothing compared with the fact that in Christ we have been forgiven, and that we are no longer enslaved to the devils of this world, but free to be loved and freely forgiven, and because of that, we should have no fear of the hard times which inevitably will accompany us. Rejoice! The Lord has forgiven wrongs and has given us through Himself the strength to overpower evil which may haunt us.
But it was the next page which caused me to sob tears of exultation because of its truth. "I know their sorrows." Exodus 3:7 (The most poignant phrases I have boldened)
"The child is cheered as he sings, 'This my father knows'; and shall not we be comforted as we discern that our dear Friend and tender soul-husband knows all about us?
1. He is the Physician, and if He knows all, there is no need that the patient should know. Hush, thou silly, fluttering heart, prying, peeping, and suspecting! What thou knowest not now, thou shalt know hereafter, and meanwhile Jesus, the beloved Physician, knows the soul in adversities. Why need the patient analyse all the medicine, or estimate all the symptoms? This is the Physician's work, not mine; it is my business to trust, and his to prescribe. If He shall write His prescription in uncouth characters which I cannot read, I will not be uneasy on that account, but rely upon His unfailing skill to make all plain in the result, however mysterious the working.
2. He is the Master, and His knowledge is to serve us instead of our own; we are to obey, not to judge: 'The servant knoweth not what his lord doeth'. Shall the architect explain his plans to every hodman on the works? If he knows his own intent, is it not enough? The vessel on the wheel cannot guess to what pattern it shall be conformed, but if the potter understands his art, what matters the ignorance of the clay? My Lord must not be crosss-questioned any more by oen so ignorant as I am.
3. He is the Head. All understanding centres there. What judgement has the arm? what comprehesion has the foot? All the power to know lies in the head. Why should the member have a brain of its own when the head fulfils for it every intellectual office? Here, then, must the believer rest his comfort in sickness, not that he himself can see the end, but that Jesus knows all. Sweet Lord, be thou for ever eye, and soul, and head for us, and let us be content to know only what Thou choosest to reveal."
How many times has my Lord put me back on the right track! How many times has he pointed out to me, "Hello, where are you going? Let me show you the right way." In His abundant mercy and forgiveness, I can have full assurance as His child, that though I may get distracted, and forget the right, He's always there, always ready and willing and wanting to turn me right. Like a child learning to walk, the daddy speaks to his child to follow his voice, and urges his child to come into his open arms. When the infant falls, daddy is there to pick up his offspring and set them right again.
In bold print across the top of Psalm 71 are the words, "Forsake Me Not When My Strength Is Gone". I won't write it out, I'll leave it to you to look it up if you have the interest. Honestly, I get so excited talking about my Lord and what He done for me - both good and trying times - that I don't know how to stop. I could talk about Him all day, I can't get enough of discussions about Him, I want to know Him so much more. And I know that it is only He who would've instilled this desire, this passion for Himself.
It struck me as odd last night though, that I take the love Christ gave me as secure and forget how high the price for it was. In some ways, I forget its power and wish for human love with more force in my core than I experience when I think of Jesus' love. I'm wrestling with that, and if I were to ask for prayer, it would be for clarity to know how to love God as well as man, or rather, to love Him more than man, but at the same time. While I'm comfortable with my identity in Christ Jesus, I still can't deny that I yearn for a husband someday, and how with each passing month and year, it only hurts more. It is not for me to question my Master, He is my Physician and even if I don't understand the prescription for this time in my life, He will let me know when I need to. Of that, I am entirely certain.
It's a wonder how all during the summer I take about an hour and a half to get up and be ready for work, but under the pressure of the academic schedule, I can be ready in 30 minutes. I was late getting into the car, the dashboard read 7:37, but the engine roared and then hummed to life smoothly, and I was gone. Letting off my brother at his school entrance, I continued on my way, turning up the radio to a station I actually wanted to listen to. That was probably just because I needed the noise, I wasn't actually listening. Oh, and I drive with my windows down, so at stoplights I get these looks from old people like, "Teenagers, ugh."
You know those certain times of the morning when the entire FM network goes on commercial? Yeah, I think it's a conspiracy. That happened, and I hate listening to those, so I hit the power button. What a morning to leave my MP3 at home. Windows down, the coolness of the morning whipping through the inside of the vehicle, and the sound of rubber tires against the different types of pavement made me realize just how noisy my thoughts really were. There was no way to concentrate on sounds, or even one line of thinking, everything was going at once. In some ways I wish I was more like my mother, at least she doesn't begin thinking until about lunch time. But the philosopher, theologian, romantic and teenager were all awakened in me at near eight in the morning. Can there be coincidences, or is it ALL supernatural? Why is predestination such a hot topic, and why didn't God make it clearer, or did He and we just haven't figured out how to interpret it? Or is it one of those things He just requires us to always lean on Him and learn from Him, because we'll never know the full answer until we get to heaven?
All those thoughts began to clash with ones that pertained solely to me, my wants, needs, studies, work, etc. "So-and-so has a well-rounded education." I've heard that before, and yet when I meet someone who truly is good in many ways, I feel so inadequate. An example, this person is amazing at volleyball, the piano, singing, people skills, writing, mathematics, and blah, blah, blah. I don't know anyone quite like that... but you get the idea. I look at my own paltry accomplishments and sigh. I shouldn't, and it normally doesn't bother me because I like what I'm good at, but it's those moments when I get caught in the compare snare when I feel ugly. But I digress.
Over the course of my day, it seemed a cloud hovered over my head, my own personalized storm. And of course, when you're blinded by problems of the world, it sidetracks you and you miss the one way out, the off ramp to the right destination. Thoughts were blazing through my head at lightning speed, most of them dark in nature and I couldn't understand it. Ever since God revealed Himself and His love for me at the beginning of this year, these episodes had become almost non-existent, but here they were, and back with a vengeance. I didn't feel I had the strength to fight it, and I doubt I did even if I were to try out of my human power. The entire day I was downcast and physically exhausted from trying to bear up under the weight of this.
Midnight was almost near, I flopped to one side of the bed. Too warm, I rolled to the other side. I almost dreaded falling asleep, because who knows what kind of dreams would accompany unconsciousness. Then it felt as if a command was uttered to me. "Pick up Spurgeon by your bedside." And for some reason, I did. Normally I would complain and deny something that told me to stay awake, but this was too clear. All I had to do was find August 14, and the verses which reflected off the page to my eyes instantly made sense. "Thou, Lord, hast made me glad through thy work." Psalm 92:4. The gist of that page was that, though as Christians we undergo "common trials and troubles of the world," that was nothing compared with the fact that in Christ we have been forgiven, and that we are no longer enslaved to the devils of this world, but free to be loved and freely forgiven, and because of that, we should have no fear of the hard times which inevitably will accompany us. Rejoice! The Lord has forgiven wrongs and has given us through Himself the strength to overpower evil which may haunt us.
But it was the next page which caused me to sob tears of exultation because of its truth. "I know their sorrows." Exodus 3:7 (The most poignant phrases I have boldened)
"The child is cheered as he sings, 'This my father knows'; and shall not we be comforted as we discern that our dear Friend and tender soul-husband knows all about us?
1. He is the Physician, and if He knows all, there is no need that the patient should know. Hush, thou silly, fluttering heart, prying, peeping, and suspecting! What thou knowest not now, thou shalt know hereafter, and meanwhile Jesus, the beloved Physician, knows the soul in adversities. Why need the patient analyse all the medicine, or estimate all the symptoms? This is the Physician's work, not mine; it is my business to trust, and his to prescribe. If He shall write His prescription in uncouth characters which I cannot read, I will not be uneasy on that account, but rely upon His unfailing skill to make all plain in the result, however mysterious the working.
2. He is the Master, and His knowledge is to serve us instead of our own; we are to obey, not to judge: 'The servant knoweth not what his lord doeth'. Shall the architect explain his plans to every hodman on the works? If he knows his own intent, is it not enough? The vessel on the wheel cannot guess to what pattern it shall be conformed, but if the potter understands his art, what matters the ignorance of the clay? My Lord must not be crosss-questioned any more by oen so ignorant as I am.
3. He is the Head. All understanding centres there. What judgement has the arm? what comprehesion has the foot? All the power to know lies in the head. Why should the member have a brain of its own when the head fulfils for it every intellectual office? Here, then, must the believer rest his comfort in sickness, not that he himself can see the end, but that Jesus knows all. Sweet Lord, be thou for ever eye, and soul, and head for us, and let us be content to know only what Thou choosest to reveal."
How many times has my Lord put me back on the right track! How many times has he pointed out to me, "Hello, where are you going? Let me show you the right way." In His abundant mercy and forgiveness, I can have full assurance as His child, that though I may get distracted, and forget the right, He's always there, always ready and willing and wanting to turn me right. Like a child learning to walk, the daddy speaks to his child to follow his voice, and urges his child to come into his open arms. When the infant falls, daddy is there to pick up his offspring and set them right again.
In bold print across the top of Psalm 71 are the words, "Forsake Me Not When My Strength Is Gone". I won't write it out, I'll leave it to you to look it up if you have the interest. Honestly, I get so excited talking about my Lord and what He done for me - both good and trying times - that I don't know how to stop. I could talk about Him all day, I can't get enough of discussions about Him, I want to know Him so much more. And I know that it is only He who would've instilled this desire, this passion for Himself.
It struck me as odd last night though, that I take the love Christ gave me as secure and forget how high the price for it was. In some ways, I forget its power and wish for human love with more force in my core than I experience when I think of Jesus' love. I'm wrestling with that, and if I were to ask for prayer, it would be for clarity to know how to love God as well as man, or rather, to love Him more than man, but at the same time. While I'm comfortable with my identity in Christ Jesus, I still can't deny that I yearn for a husband someday, and how with each passing month and year, it only hurts more. It is not for me to question my Master, He is my Physician and even if I don't understand the prescription for this time in my life, He will let me know when I need to. Of that, I am entirely certain.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
...male and female he created them.
A deep sense of sadness has clouded this evening, and the perpetrator was one, hour-long TV program. Born a Boy, Brought Up a Girl on TLC.
Brian and Bruce Reimer were twin brothers, born in the 1960's. A few months after birth, their parents took them to be circumcised, but the instrument used for the task malfunctioned and permanently damaged Bruce's genitals. Because of this, the parents eventually settled on taking him to psychologist John Money, a big surgeon of the time who boasted in his ability to create transexuals.
The Reimer parents considered and decided on this approach, hoping that maybe this would make their child more "normal". Thus, Bruce became Brenda. At first, following strict orders to treat Brenda as a girl, the procedure appeared to be working, but at the age of seven, Brenda had her own ideas about the things she liked to play with, the way she acted, and her general manner. Girls at school thought she was weird, and taunted her, and the boys would have nothing to do with a "girl".
In one scenario, the twins reported that Dr. Money forced them to remove their clothes in his office so that he could photograph them, and also showed Brenda how girls ought to look. But Brenda was not to be swayed; John Money was not going to convince her to undergo surgery.
Yearly visits were still made to the psychologist, a twisted and provocative character with a sick mind, and every year Brenda became more and more opposed to his urgings to have a surgical procedure to permanently decide her gender as female. One day, after another disturbing visit to the office, Brenda came home and told her parents she would commit suicide if she had to set foot in Dr. Money's establishment one more time. Finally, after thirteen years, Brenda was told that she was in fact, born a boy. When the reality of it sank in, Brenda was ecstatic to find that she wasn't really a girl who was horribly abnormal, but an adolescent male who'd been horrendously mislead.
Brenda, who changed his name to David, was shunned by his brother when the truth was told him. Brian felt betrayed, and the sibling he'd called his sister for his entire life was now really his brother. This lead to a mental breakdown which resulted in schizophrenia later in life.
After a prolonged estrangement between the brothers, David convinced Brian to go public with him in 1997 about their treatment in Dr. Money's office and the horrors of their childhood in their dealings with such an institute. In 2002, Brian died of drug overdose, though whether it was intentional or not is indeterminable.
David was shattered by the loss of his brother. In the next couple years, marital problems arose with his wife and on May 4, 2004, she asked for a separation. He stormed out of the house without informing her of where he was going. Returning home briefly while she was out, he took a shotgun, sawed off the barrel, and the next morning, drove to a parking lot and shot himself.
And that is how it ends? What kind of story is that? One that broke me, one which I sat to watch, and felt the burning sensation of tears come to my eyes. I didn't used to cry so much. But God has faithfully been revealing to me how much I NEED him. It's not a matter of whether I want him, or think him a good companion, no, I need him there to guide me or I am as good as dead. If I didn't know him, what would be a reason for my still being alive, writing this right here and now? I am ashamed of my own selfishness and thank God so much for dragging me outside of myself, to see that I was selfish, and unthinking. I must content myself first with him and his plans for my life before I can appreciate anything that comes my way, even the times which are a trial and disheartening. I used to think that a boyfriend was the answer, that I'd feel loved and adored and subconsciously I believed that all pain would magically dissipate. But it isn't like that, and perhaps God has kept me single so that I would realize this and understand that that was too much of a burden to bring into any sort of relationship, a load of unrealistic expectations which would've crushed any soul.
As imperfect as I am when it comes to being patient indefinitely, it's a horse which must be tamed sometime, and the only way I've discovered that lightens my anxiety is to just say, Lord God, I'm awful at this, please help me to understand what you are trying to show me through this time of waiting." Sometimes the answer hits me, just like BAM! And then there are those circumstances when I don't understand until much later. But in hindsight, I can see what he has done for me, and I can only love him the more for guiding me in all that happens.
And of course, what could be better than a little Charles Spurgeon on the matter? ;)
"We know that all things work together for good to them that love God."
"Upon some points a believer is absolutely sure. He knows, for instance, that God sits in the stern of the vessel when it rocks most. He believes that an invisible hand is always on the world's tiller, and that wherever providence may drift, Jehovah steers it. That reassuring knowledge prepares him for everything. He looks over the raging waters and sees the spirit of Jesus treading the billows, and he hears a voice saying, 'It is I, do not be afraid'. He knows too that God is always wise, and, knowing this, he is confident that there can be no accidents, no mistakes; that nothing can occur which ought not to arise. He can say, 'If I should lose all I have, it is better that I should lose than have, if God so wills: the worst calamity is the wisest and the kindest thing that could befall to me if God ordains it.' 'We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.' The Christian does no merely hold this as a theory, but he knows it as a matter of fact. Everthing has worked for good as yet; the poisonous drugs mixed in fit proportions have worked the cure; the sharp cuts of the lancet have cleansed out the proud flesh and facilitated the healing. Every event as yet has worked out the most divinely blessed results; and so, believing that God rules all, that He governs wisely, that He brings good out of evil, the believer's heart is assured, and he is enabled calmly to meet each trial as it comes. The believer can in the spirit of true resignation pray, 'Send me what thou wilt, my God, so long as it comes from Thee; never came there an ill portion from Thy table to any of Thy children'.
'Say not my soul, "From whence can God relieve my care?"
Remember that Omnipotence has servants everywhere.
His method is sublime, His heart profoundly kind, God never is before His time, and never is behind'."
I'm not exactly sure how I jumped from the first story I started with to this... draw your own conclusions, maybe you'll find something I've missed. I worry about this upcoming year, about testing for SAT/ACT stuff (I'm not sure what I'm taking)and about the prospect of college. This entire summer my heart's been looking forward to senior year, but I don't want to move on to college. It is a status thing, I think, if you press on through and finish your education, you can have your degree and "have a life." But at this point in my life, that's not what I want to pursue. I've heard every option there is out there... "take a year off before going" "do two years, and summer school and night classes, then you'd finish early" "go two years, take a year off, then get back to the grind for the last two." I feel called to the mission field, in whatever capacity, but the thought intimidates me. I fear I wouldn't know what to say, but then I remember how God likes it when I admit that my own ability is thwarted, and that I have to depend solely on his grace to get me through the day. Then I fear being disliked. And then what if I'm not needed? I fear not feeling safe, being with a group of strangers and ignored. But am I doubting my Lord's wisdom? If I am to go, the door will open, and I will know. Praise be to God, for he is good beyond all.
Brian and Bruce Reimer were twin brothers, born in the 1960's. A few months after birth, their parents took them to be circumcised, but the instrument used for the task malfunctioned and permanently damaged Bruce's genitals. Because of this, the parents eventually settled on taking him to psychologist John Money, a big surgeon of the time who boasted in his ability to create transexuals.
The Reimer parents considered and decided on this approach, hoping that maybe this would make their child more "normal". Thus, Bruce became Brenda. At first, following strict orders to treat Brenda as a girl, the procedure appeared to be working, but at the age of seven, Brenda had her own ideas about the things she liked to play with, the way she acted, and her general manner. Girls at school thought she was weird, and taunted her, and the boys would have nothing to do with a "girl".
In one scenario, the twins reported that Dr. Money forced them to remove their clothes in his office so that he could photograph them, and also showed Brenda how girls ought to look. But Brenda was not to be swayed; John Money was not going to convince her to undergo surgery.
Yearly visits were still made to the psychologist, a twisted and provocative character with a sick mind, and every year Brenda became more and more opposed to his urgings to have a surgical procedure to permanently decide her gender as female. One day, after another disturbing visit to the office, Brenda came home and told her parents she would commit suicide if she had to set foot in Dr. Money's establishment one more time. Finally, after thirteen years, Brenda was told that she was in fact, born a boy. When the reality of it sank in, Brenda was ecstatic to find that she wasn't really a girl who was horribly abnormal, but an adolescent male who'd been horrendously mislead.
Brenda, who changed his name to David, was shunned by his brother when the truth was told him. Brian felt betrayed, and the sibling he'd called his sister for his entire life was now really his brother. This lead to a mental breakdown which resulted in schizophrenia later in life.
After a prolonged estrangement between the brothers, David convinced Brian to go public with him in 1997 about their treatment in Dr. Money's office and the horrors of their childhood in their dealings with such an institute. In 2002, Brian died of drug overdose, though whether it was intentional or not is indeterminable.
David was shattered by the loss of his brother. In the next couple years, marital problems arose with his wife and on May 4, 2004, she asked for a separation. He stormed out of the house without informing her of where he was going. Returning home briefly while she was out, he took a shotgun, sawed off the barrel, and the next morning, drove to a parking lot and shot himself.
And that is how it ends? What kind of story is that? One that broke me, one which I sat to watch, and felt the burning sensation of tears come to my eyes. I didn't used to cry so much. But God has faithfully been revealing to me how much I NEED him. It's not a matter of whether I want him, or think him a good companion, no, I need him there to guide me or I am as good as dead. If I didn't know him, what would be a reason for my still being alive, writing this right here and now? I am ashamed of my own selfishness and thank God so much for dragging me outside of myself, to see that I was selfish, and unthinking. I must content myself first with him and his plans for my life before I can appreciate anything that comes my way, even the times which are a trial and disheartening. I used to think that a boyfriend was the answer, that I'd feel loved and adored and subconsciously I believed that all pain would magically dissipate. But it isn't like that, and perhaps God has kept me single so that I would realize this and understand that that was too much of a burden to bring into any sort of relationship, a load of unrealistic expectations which would've crushed any soul.
As imperfect as I am when it comes to being patient indefinitely, it's a horse which must be tamed sometime, and the only way I've discovered that lightens my anxiety is to just say, Lord God, I'm awful at this, please help me to understand what you are trying to show me through this time of waiting." Sometimes the answer hits me, just like BAM! And then there are those circumstances when I don't understand until much later. But in hindsight, I can see what he has done for me, and I can only love him the more for guiding me in all that happens.
And of course, what could be better than a little Charles Spurgeon on the matter? ;)
"We know that all things work together for good to them that love God."
"Upon some points a believer is absolutely sure. He knows, for instance, that God sits in the stern of the vessel when it rocks most. He believes that an invisible hand is always on the world's tiller, and that wherever providence may drift, Jehovah steers it. That reassuring knowledge prepares him for everything. He looks over the raging waters and sees the spirit of Jesus treading the billows, and he hears a voice saying, 'It is I, do not be afraid'. He knows too that God is always wise, and, knowing this, he is confident that there can be no accidents, no mistakes; that nothing can occur which ought not to arise. He can say, 'If I should lose all I have, it is better that I should lose than have, if God so wills: the worst calamity is the wisest and the kindest thing that could befall to me if God ordains it.' 'We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.' The Christian does no merely hold this as a theory, but he knows it as a matter of fact. Everthing has worked for good as yet; the poisonous drugs mixed in fit proportions have worked the cure; the sharp cuts of the lancet have cleansed out the proud flesh and facilitated the healing. Every event as yet has worked out the most divinely blessed results; and so, believing that God rules all, that He governs wisely, that He brings good out of evil, the believer's heart is assured, and he is enabled calmly to meet each trial as it comes. The believer can in the spirit of true resignation pray, 'Send me what thou wilt, my God, so long as it comes from Thee; never came there an ill portion from Thy table to any of Thy children'.
'Say not my soul, "From whence can God relieve my care?"
Remember that Omnipotence has servants everywhere.
His method is sublime, His heart profoundly kind, God never is before His time, and never is behind'."
I'm not exactly sure how I jumped from the first story I started with to this... draw your own conclusions, maybe you'll find something I've missed. I worry about this upcoming year, about testing for SAT/ACT stuff (I'm not sure what I'm taking)and about the prospect of college. This entire summer my heart's been looking forward to senior year, but I don't want to move on to college. It is a status thing, I think, if you press on through and finish your education, you can have your degree and "have a life." But at this point in my life, that's not what I want to pursue. I've heard every option there is out there... "take a year off before going" "do two years, and summer school and night classes, then you'd finish early" "go two years, take a year off, then get back to the grind for the last two." I feel called to the mission field, in whatever capacity, but the thought intimidates me. I fear I wouldn't know what to say, but then I remember how God likes it when I admit that my own ability is thwarted, and that I have to depend solely on his grace to get me through the day. Then I fear being disliked. And then what if I'm not needed? I fear not feeling safe, being with a group of strangers and ignored. But am I doubting my Lord's wisdom? If I am to go, the door will open, and I will know. Praise be to God, for he is good beyond all.
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