I grew up in wonderful, quirky, intellectual, slightly awkward, and totally hilarious homeschool land. Everything (including volleyball matches) either opened or ended with prayer (and perhaps both). Arguments amongst friends consisted chiefly of Arminianism vs. Calvinism, drums or no drums, types of “communion,” and whether or not women needed to wear skirts in order to be saved (or at least truly sanctified). Of course we had normal clique drama and crushes on boys, blah, blah, blah. But it was a special and selective kind of growing up. And I wouldn’t trade it for any sum of money.
It seems, however, that as we age and life shifts, twists, and even tips us upside down, we’re starting to question everything, especially God.
Life isn’t what we thought.
I recently overheard a conversation of two ladies my age and one of them said, “All I know is that there is a God…and that’s about it.”
I have camped in those woods a few nights, folks.
Many of us are festering, infected wounds. We were taught moralistic math equations: “If you do THIS, then you’ll get THAT.” Well, that’s not always true.
Our parents can’t shield us forever, even though we were so blessed that they did for a season.
Recently I had a little breakdown in the kitchen, and I told my mom I was just “wrestling” right now…like, you know, with God, with life, and with truth.And I won’t forget her words: “You can’t wrestle forever.”
Jacob did get up. And he was blessed.
Some would argue that life is a constant state of wrestling with God, in the sense that we’re struggling in this world to know Him, get His blessing, seek His face. But for me, I think she was telling me, “Audrey Ann, you can’t be mad that life is not like you thought…forever.”
Sin is ugly. And when a person douses themselves in it, it’s bound to be a sticky mess on everyone they touch, especially those closest…and this includes my anger.
Sure, I’m justified to be hurt, but I am not justified to let my blood flow tainted from a bitter heart.
I don’t want to just “know that there is a God.” I want to love, glorify, live for, and feel the breath of the true and living GOD! Maybe I must wrestle harder, later, deeper into the night like Jacob.
So, here I go…the journey to no more bitterness under the banner of “wrestling.”
Here’s to true wrestling with joy.
I am so thankful for His tender love and the way He holds me, even when I am weak and limp.
And I am thankful for a mama who still gives me swift spankings (though they are now verbal, and not with that bless-ed, black whacker we once had sitting on top of the toilet). 🙂
Keep the faith,