I have been through some very dark times and I actually questioned my faith at times. I questioned God why I was being put through such struggles when my ex who cheated was happily engaged and not having any struggles. It surely didn't seem fair. I honestly thought the sinner was being rewarded. It's still hard for me being alone but I did get through my suicidal thoughts. I have to believe He helped me.
I still hold a lot of anger toward God and Jesus. I always felt my depression and circumstances weren't enough for them...meaning, they seemed to care more about the other people. I'm in a time right now where I am totally alone except for my therapists. But perhaps that is my fault because frankly, they are the only ones I trust atm. I'm sorry I can't exalt God. I feel I let a lot of people down because of this.
I often want to be the one to carry others to Jesus. Whether, a family member, my daughter who is my heart and soul!, a friend, my hubby. I don't even know if I need to be carried to Jesus, or if I deserve to be?
Now you know good and well, I ain’t gonna let you talk about my friend like that. Unless, of course, you would talk about me that way. Do I deserve God’s love? Do I deserve the love of my friends and family?
The way God most intimately reminded me He saw my pain happened many years ago actually, but remains dear to my heart. I was at a youth event - but really felt outside, unwanted, unloved, and unseen. So though it was raining a very cold February rain, I went and stood with God in the rain. And He gave me the sense that He was weeping WITH me. He understood the pain and anguish. He saw me...and He cared. I still love meeting God in the rain.
Lauren - woof - tears. This is so sweet. It reminds me of a piece of my book, "Catching Your Breath," where I talk about meeting God in the cold January wind and waves at the beach.
From the opening of Chapter 11:
I sat on the back porch last night, whiskey on the rocks in one hand, and a favorite stogie in the other. I didn't notice my long sighs until the third or fourth time, but about every two to three minutes, I would take a slow, deep breath, and exhale with a relaxed sort of hum.
I imagine it felt something like the Biblical account of the creation story, where God completes the work and says, "this is good." God probably had whiskey in one hand, too.
This morning, the wind is blowing through the palms, and light rain is dancing on the roof of this little beachside bungalow. The plink-a-tink-patter of raindrops against the tin is the most wonderfully unpredictable rhythm of rest and repeat.
As I return to my thoughts, I can't help but consider the sound of a sigh. Breath has no noise; it's the hum - the vibration of my voice box, the reverberation of my contented soul, up past my heart and out my mouth that continues to say, "this is good."
I guess the breath is just like the wind - it isn't noticed until it brushes past the palm frond or tickles the sea oats. I would never know it is there until it plays peek-a-boo against the next door neighbor's shutters. They whistle through the shingles, kissing the picnic table and lapping against the rocking chairs on the back porch. This is good.
I stood, barefoot in the cold December sand yesterday, two days before the New Year, watching the waves wash over my feet, playing their tireless melody, wooing my soul to sigh again. And sigh, it did. In and out, brushing sand over my toes, and quickly pulling it back again. The ocean inhaling and exhaling, sighing over creating, "this is good."
The lungs of the earth, expanding and contracting, an eternal reminder that there's a rhythm and rhyme to all of creation. And in the midst of it all, there is a great, fathomless mystery. We only grasp bits and pieces of Wisdom. We only ever experience moments of Love. Hope brushes over us, and as quietly as it appears, chaos seems to pull it back.
I have been through some very dark times and I actually questioned my faith at times. I questioned God why I was being put through such struggles when my ex who cheated was happily engaged and not having any struggles. It surely didn't seem fair. I honestly thought the sinner was being rewarded. It's still hard for me being alone but I did get through my suicidal thoughts. I have to believe He helped me.
Dorothy, I’m so sorry that happened. And YES, one of the great mysteries of the universe is why good things happen to bad people. Ugh.
I still hold a lot of anger toward God and Jesus. I always felt my depression and circumstances weren't enough for them...meaning, they seemed to care more about the other people. I'm in a time right now where I am totally alone except for my therapists. But perhaps that is my fault because frankly, they are the only ones I trust atm. I'm sorry I can't exalt God. I feel I let a lot of people down because of this.
Your honesty will never disappoint me, friend. I’m sorry for the pain and anger.
I often want to be the one to carry others to Jesus. Whether, a family member, my daughter who is my heart and soul!, a friend, my hubby. I don't even know if I need to be carried to Jesus, or if I deserve to be?
Now you know good and well, I ain’t gonna let you talk about my friend like that. Unless, of course, you would talk about me that way. Do I deserve God’s love? Do I deserve the love of my friends and family?
Thanks Steve. Most days I know.
Love you, friend. Always here to remind you of your worthiness.
The way God most intimately reminded me He saw my pain happened many years ago actually, but remains dear to my heart. I was at a youth event - but really felt outside, unwanted, unloved, and unseen. So though it was raining a very cold February rain, I went and stood with God in the rain. And He gave me the sense that He was weeping WITH me. He understood the pain and anguish. He saw me...and He cared. I still love meeting God in the rain.
Lauren - woof - tears. This is so sweet. It reminds me of a piece of my book, "Catching Your Breath," where I talk about meeting God in the cold January wind and waves at the beach.
From the opening of Chapter 11:
I sat on the back porch last night, whiskey on the rocks in one hand, and a favorite stogie in the other. I didn't notice my long sighs until the third or fourth time, but about every two to three minutes, I would take a slow, deep breath, and exhale with a relaxed sort of hum.
I imagine it felt something like the Biblical account of the creation story, where God completes the work and says, "this is good." God probably had whiskey in one hand, too.
This morning, the wind is blowing through the palms, and light rain is dancing on the roof of this little beachside bungalow. The plink-a-tink-patter of raindrops against the tin is the most wonderfully unpredictable rhythm of rest and repeat.
As I return to my thoughts, I can't help but consider the sound of a sigh. Breath has no noise; it's the hum - the vibration of my voice box, the reverberation of my contented soul, up past my heart and out my mouth that continues to say, "this is good."
I guess the breath is just like the wind - it isn't noticed until it brushes past the palm frond or tickles the sea oats. I would never know it is there until it plays peek-a-boo against the next door neighbor's shutters. They whistle through the shingles, kissing the picnic table and lapping against the rocking chairs on the back porch. This is good.
I stood, barefoot in the cold December sand yesterday, two days before the New Year, watching the waves wash over my feet, playing their tireless melody, wooing my soul to sigh again. And sigh, it did. In and out, brushing sand over my toes, and quickly pulling it back again. The ocean inhaling and exhaling, sighing over creating, "this is good."
The lungs of the earth, expanding and contracting, an eternal reminder that there's a rhythm and rhyme to all of creation. And in the midst of it all, there is a great, fathomless mystery. We only grasp bits and pieces of Wisdom. We only ever experience moments of Love. Hope brushes over us, and as quietly as it appears, chaos seems to pull it back.
Rhythm and rhyme.
Inhale and exhale.
To and fro.
Chaos and calm.