Wednesday, February 6, 2013

stand, fall, weep, carry on...

Sometimes I wish that God loved me more. More than it feels like He does. And I know the pat Christian answer is that He died for me, and what more could I ask for. Yes, I know the stinging rebuke of that response, but truth be told, in the cold, dark loneliness of this life, and His seeming silence over so many requests, I have not come to know Him as trustworthy and good.
I see the ladies bow their heads, beautiful, tenderhearted saints with voices who speak with Him often. The prophetess lays heart bare and I know that she has spoken with the Majesty many times before, I hear the Spirit wings on her voice as it rises to His throne. And I wonder what He does with the words when they arrive.
Do You not see our pain? Do you not see our tears? Do You not see that we are hurting down here? Some lonelier than others. And yet your ears seem deaf or our tongues seem mute or maybe it’s a bit of both. I have not seen You move in what feels like ages, and my bones are weary, and my heart is wandering, tired from such a heavy burden. And I wish that you loved me more, that I too may be loved.
And I remember Job and how You did him, how You let him suffer in some weird chess match, and in the end, when he was broken and crying, You rebuked his pain and he fell even lower. But I cried with him, because I know that pain, the pain of losing everything, of starting life over at a time when it was meant to be flourishing. I cried with him because he wept, and You stood by and watched. I know that feeling, the being watched while your world falls apart. The being watched, in loneliness and desperation, wishing for a Savior to do something, to save the day.
I do not understand Your ways, and though I cannot deny You in any way, shape, or form, I find the truth buried in my heart that I do not trust You. When I cry out, I do not believe that You will answer, and so I have stopped crying out. I do not call out with confidence that You will hear or respond, because so many prayers before fell on deaf ears, and so I have stopped calling out altogether. And yet I tremble still. I cannot help it. I cry in the darkness after the littles have slept and I have poured out all, empty and exhausted, alone. Your spirit has revealed too much for me to walk away, and yet Your silence and laissez faire approach to us is baffling. So I stand, fall, weep, carry on. And wonder. And believe still.

After a long silence, I am honored to link up with beautiful Emily once again at Imperfect Prose. 


  1. Welcome back! Here from Emily's linkup place. Blessings!

  2. Have you read C.S. Lewis' "Till We Have Faces"? I felt this way before and it was comforting, in a way, to read a novel by a brilliant author who painted the picture so well. At least, I thought so.


  3. Oh, your honesty and bare naked revealing here are startling. But so needed in a world where perfection and platitudes and posing are so rampant. I pray that I can be as real with the God of the Universe as you have been here, friend. The bold admittance of unbelief is what brings us under His wing. Eventually. Praying alongside of you for a real God to make himself known.


  4. Words seems a harsh intrusion on the baring of your bleeding soul. So I will not leave many.

    Just know that you are in my prayers - faint, whispered, and broken, though they be.

  5. This reads like a Psalm of lament for all the dark, brokenness of this world. Praying over you, over your words this morning.

  6. Wishing I could hug you, right now.

    I could never understand why God would offer Job--His most righteous--to Satan for torture, but I returned to Job after my miscarriage, and it hit me like a ton of bricks: Job suffered for us, to be our example in a way Jesus cannot. Jesus suffered everything we'll ever suffer, it's true!, but we know He is God. Job is our 100% human, 0% God example. We can never say of Job: well, but he was God.

    Suffering does not necessarily indicate punishment. Scripture tells us that God will chastise us as His beloved children, but there are instances in the Bible where Jesus said: this hard thing is happening so that God might be glorified...or so such-and-such will understand something. I believe suffering makes us more empathetic toward others who, later, suffer similar things. Suffering has drawn me closer to the Lord, but I think you hit upon it here: in order to draw closer, you must keep the dialog open. I think it's ok to be angry or hurt w/ God (He can handle it!), but try to keep the conversation going. It's when we feel least like praying and reading the Bible that it's most important.

    Oh, I just love you. I'm so sorry for your pain. I wish there were something I could to help.

  7. my dear shauna, this is good. this is SO good. i wish more believers felt they could admit this, could ask God to show MORE of him, more of his heart, to them, more of his love. and i believe the more you ask him, the more he will show you. i'm believing that for you, and asking it of him too. you are not alone, friend. love to you. xoxo


Thoughts? Feel welcome to share...