I smashed into a wall tonight. No... I really do mean I walked into a wall. I turned the lights out in the house, and, assuming I knew the contours of my house well enough to make it in the dark, I literally smashed into a wall. It hurt too. Bare toes lose big time against walls.
But, as is my habit, I'm always making a connection between the stupid physical stuff that happens and my spiritual walk.
I'm arrogant when it comes to Christian things.
I've been in church my whole life, heard sermon upon sermon upon sermon. But, sometimes the lines between being a Churchtian and a Christian get blurred and I find myself smashing into a wall. I had a good walk, a personal relationship with Christ, but... well, life happened.
I get the connection with Peter, stepping out onto the stormy seas to walk to the Master. I stepped out (though not nearly to the same extent as Peter), but I all too quickly looked at the storm.. ok, I admit, it was probably just a brisk wind,... and the only time I looked back at Christ was to scream "I'm DROWNING".
In some ways, part of me wishes God would just give me up. Stop this incessant tugging at me to be something that I don't know how to be, and don't know how to let go enough to let Him make me. Then the other part remembers nights like Sunday night when I wondered if He really had.
Tuesday night, I lay in bed telling God that the hurt and fear I'm feeling seems to be stronger than Him. Whether He's promised to be stronger or not, the hurt and fear is winning. I told Him I'd rather go His way, but I didn't know how I could.
Quite literally, He said Psalms 18:32.
I lay, in the dark, thinking that most of the Psalms are too short to have 32 verses. I thought about how disappointing it would be to get up, turn the light on, pull out a bible, and find that chapter 18 stopped at verse 26 or something. Or worse, that there would be a 18:32 and it would say something like "They cried out, but there was none to save them, Even to the Lord, but He did not answer them." - That's verse 41 of that chapter.
Nevertheless, I got up, turned on said light, and pulled out said bible, and this is what I read:
It is God who arms me with strength,
And makes my way perfect.
Instantly I said, "BUT."
But, I'm not armed with strength, and my way is so far from perfect right now it's not even in the same zip code.
There was a fight that night, when as I was talking to God the devil began telling me what kind of person I was. He reminded me of all the people I'd hurt or caused to sin, and most especially he hit me with Little One as fear pressed in that I hadn't watched close enough for things that might needed to have been reported, he told me a better parent would have caught those things and Little One wouldn't be in danger.
Little One isn't necessarily in danger, everything could be just fine, I fear it's not though, and it eats me alive.
Unable to block out the words of fear and accusation running through my mind, I ended up holding onto the words "It is God who arms me with strength, and makes my way perfect." It didn't even make sense to me up against what the devil was reminding me of, but it was all I had.
I'm tempted to leave this entry with some kind of hopeful tone, indicating that somehow in the end I know that everything is going to be ok.
But I don't know that.
What I do know is I'm not strong, and my way isn't perfect.
Yeah... not much comfort huh.