I Believe . . . But Help My Unbelief
I struggled with the decision of whether or not to publish this. It’s my most personal post to date, and the idea of baring my soul to strangers (the five of you who actually read this) just seems strange. When I first started my blog, it was going to be about quirky “this only happens to me” types of things that are even funnier because I’m single. But each time I sat down to write, the funny and quirky turned into something deeper and more spiritual than I had planned. Today was no exception.
This morning, I was sitting at a red light chatting with a coworker on our way back from a Starbucks run. We were talking about the recent engagements of a few of our friends. We both confessed that while we’re very happy for the soon-to-be newlyweds, we were slightly envious of the recent developments. Our conversation was light hearted, silly. You know, giggling at the way we can be such “girls” sometimes.
Then all of a sudden, it was like all the fear I’ve been burying in my heart came rushing to the surface in a torrent of hot tears and I couldn’t stop them. Fear that the future I always thought I’d have is quickly slipping away. Fear that every day I’m getting closer to the inevitable realization that the adage, “if the Lord has given you the desire, then He has someone for you” may not actually apply to me. What if it turns out that I’m the exception to that rule? And right there—sitting at a red light—it happened. I felt my heart break into a million pieces.
I don’t know if you can grieve for something you’ve never had, but that’s what it felt like. I was grieving for the possibility of growing old, alone and for children I may never have.
If you know me, you know I’m not a crier (except for those ASPCA commercials with the Sarah McLachlan song). In fact, I’m probably one of the least sensitive and emotional girls you’ll ever meet. It takes a lot . . . A LOT to make me cry. (I usually get mad instead.) This was completely unlike me. My poor coworker seemed stunned by my sudden onset of emotion and she sweetly searched for a tissue to offer me. By the time the light turned green, my rational side had put my emotions back in check.
But all day, the fear and sadness was there, just below the surface, threatening to overtake me. And it did. In the gym. Much to the shock of my poor trainer. Five reps into my second set of skull crushers and the tears came once again. We eventually decided to reschedule because I just couldn’t get my head in the game.
So there I was, driving home in the rain. In the dark. And thoughts of how my life is not going as I expected started to creep back in. I decided to do what my pastor says he does in a moment of doubt . . . preach to yourself! I shook off those thoughts and started to think back on previous things I’ve even posted on my blog!
- Hindsight is 20/20.
- When in doubt, go back to Theology 101 – God is good.
- He has a plan for me.
But just as quickly, my mind drifted away from those nuggets of truth and went back to a picture-perfect fantasy that I’ve been painting in my head for some time now. I wasn’t comforting myself with the truth that God’s will for me is perfect, and that He has my best interest at heart. I was comforting myself with a fairy tale that I was writing MYSELF!
I was comforting myself with my own will.
That realization hit me like a mack truck. And then, I felt these words breeze over my heart, “Now will you trust Me?”
More tears came now, not of fear and grief–but of repentance. You see, I’ve been talking and writing about trusting the Lord’s plan, but I haven’t actually been doing it. I’ve been saying, “Okay, Lord . . . You work this out!” But at the same time I’ve been holding onto this dream of what I think would be best for me (my will) and interjecting it as His.
Perhaps I’ve been afraid to truly surrender that dream to Him, because I’m scared of what the answer might be. Well, no more. Tonight, I lay my will down at His feet, truly for the first time as it applies to my future spouse or my continued singleness.
Already, I feel as though a burden has been lifted off of me. It’s not my weight to carry anymore. The decision is His. I believe that. But just like the father in Mark 9, I say, “Lord, help my unbelief.”