The Wrestle

 

             Here I am yet again. This place of angst and turmoil. This grating tension of the waiting, the longing, the questioning. The fear, the doubt, and the shame I carry because I’m wrestling with fear and doubt. It all becomes tormenting,  a seemingly never-ending swirl in my mind. I want so bad to trust God but the thing I’ve been believing for still has not come to pass. The thing I’ve been contending for breakthrough in, still stuck in delay. I have prayed and prayed, I have gone to war. I have fought hard, I have declared, rebuked, renounced, pleaded, explored, surrendered, and worshipped in the midst of the unknown.

But I am weary.

I am tired.

It feels as if my faith is wearing thin, and I question everything. Am I praying enough? Am I praying the ‘right’ way? Do I have enough faith?  What am I missing here?  I ask God these questions, I search the Scriptures.  I know there is a period of waiting between the prayers prayed and the answers I am longing for. But how long O Lord?  How long?  I believe for the miracle, the fulfillment of the promise. But when years go by and I don’t see the fulfillment I go back to the drawing board.  What am I missing?  They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. But is this true when it comes to prayer?  Your word says to keep seeking, keep asking, keep knocking. You value perseverance in faith.  You teach us to always pray and not lose heart. But the problem-solver in me wants to roll up my sleeves and actually do something.  I need to find a solution. I need to figure this out.  Yet I feel the pull to rest in the mystery.  To lay down my self-sufficiency yet again and just believe that you will do what you said you will do.  

Not by might, not by power, but by Your Spirit. 

        I’ve been tempted to suppress the questions, and avoid this wrestle. If I just say I’m ok and it’s all going to be ok, maybe it will be.  If I quote some Bible verses and sing some worship songs about your faithfulness I’ll make it through right?  If I suppress this deep grief rather than acknowledge its presence perhaps I can avoid being swallowed up in it. For that’s what I fear, giving way to these emotions is like diving into a dark cave I’m not sure I will be able to find my way out of. If I say I’m doubting, then am I not a good Christian? If I dare utter the words “I’m angry with you”, will I be punished?  How do I hold the reverent fear of the Lord and the honest expression of my heart in the same space? But I must be honest.  I cannot pretend anymore. I must confess my true thoughts, for you already know them, Lord. You already see. I feel the invitation from you to be real, raw, unpolished and un-rehearsed. 

So here I am again. Wrestling.  Wrestling with your timing, wrestling with your ways. Not understanding why. Why the delay? Why me? Why aren’t you moving in this area?  Why is it so hard?  Why is it so painful?  

How long must I wait?  How do I navigate this in between space of the promise given and the promise fulfilled? How do I let go of control and not birth an Ishmael?  Your word says to trust and have faith, but what does that look like? 

I’m overwhelmed.

I’m struggling.                                                                                                                                                                                           

Do you see me God?                                                                                                                                                                             

Do you see the anguish in my heart?                                                                                                                                                     

I’m angry.                                                                                                                                                                                               

I’m frustrated.                                                                                                                                                                     

Disappointment, threatening to envelope me.                                                                                                                           

Hope feels like a tease.

 

Where are you God?  I’ve seen you move mountains but this one is not budging.

I’ve seen you split seas, but I feel like I’m drowning.

I have been fighting discouragement, wanting to echo the words of Job “You give and you take away, Blessed be the name of the Lord.”  Even if you don’t, I want to be ok with that. After all, You are God and I am not. I wrestle with your grandeur, your majesty. I know I am dust, I know that I am entitled to nothing and yet I also hold the knowledge of your goodness, the experience of your deep love. You have pulled me out of deep waters, you have rescued me out of many a dark night. You have answered a thousand prayers and guided me on the right path. You have made ways in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.  I have seen your faithfulness and now how can I not expect anything less from you?  How can I not earnestly request your hand to move again in my life? Will you Lord? Will you do it again?  

Yes, Job decided in His heart to bless you in the midst of devastation. But he also argued with you. He wrestled with the whys. He groaned in agony, He lamented the losses. You met him in the midst of it. And you restored him. 

            So here I am. Still in the waiting. Still in the unknown. Still wrestling. Still trying to trust, Still clinging to that last thread of hope.  Because what else can I do?  To walk away from you is unthinkable. To live life without you, utter misery.  I’ve tasted too much of your goodness to turn away. I’d rather live through this tension, this pain, this grief with you, than without.

There’s no resolution as of yet, just that old familiar angst.                                                                                                           

Will you at least give me the grace to wait?                                                                                                                                   

Will you at least let my soul be at peace in the not yet?