I
stayed up this morning when my husband left for work. I usually don’t. I, uh, I
don’t want to say when I usually get up, because it is embarrassing, but today, today, I was awake by a little
after 5, and I didn’t go back to sleep.
Go.
Me.
So
I was jogging at around 7:30. The sun was just coming up; I could see hints of
pink in the clouds, whispering of the growing light.
And
it sort of became a game with me – a game of looking for the sun between the
houses, wondering when exactly I’d see it, with the full expectation that I would see it.
And
as I did this, I breathed aloud, firmly, “I will NOT give up until I see the
sun.”
Struggles
have marked my relationship with my husband nearly from the beginning. I have
gone through periods of hope and disillusionment while he has just kind of
spiraled down further and further. To be quite honest, if God were not in the
picture, I don’t know if we’d still be together. I might have left or be in the
process of leaving. Not at ALL because I don’t love him, or because he doesn’t
love me, or because I want someone else (ew), but because I would not have any
hope. I would be so discouraged, and hurt, and frustrated, and just at a loss. I
wouldn’t know why I act the way I do, wouldn’t have compassion toward him for
being the way he is, and there would be only dysfunction.
But
I do have hope. Whether I hold to it well is another issue, but the fact of the
matter is that hope is available. Hope is real. Hope is alive.
Hope
says that we are not too far gone. That we are not too broken. That we are not
too disconnected. That we are not too different. That our issues are not
irreconcilable.
That
we can be saved. Healed. Restored.
And
that we will be.
God
has given me soooo many promises; I can’t even begin to recount them all. (Though
I should try.) Songs, verses, messages, visions, dreams – confirmation after
confirmation after confirmation. And just when I start thinking that I have
nothing left, that I can’t do this anymore, that nothing can fix any of the
issues we have: another confirmation.
God has not
changed his mind about us.
That
just came to mind, accompanied by tears.
God
has not changed his mind about us. God has NOT
changed his mind about us. No matter the struggles, no matter the frustration, no
matter the stubbornness, he chose us. And he hasn’t gone back on his choice. He
doesn’t regret it. Nothing has changed in how God sees us.
He
brought us together.
He
brought us together for a purpose.
His
plan, his purpose, the purpose for which he united our lives and hearts, has
stood. Is standing. Just as he promised it would.
Circumstances
and issues haven’t changed it, haven’t shaken him from his throne. None of our
struggles have come as a surprise to him. He is not confused by us, or unsure
how to fix us. He has not allowed things because he is cruel or detached but
because he sees how powerful it will be when it is redeemed.
The
last few years have not sidelined his plan, or detracted from it – they are part of it.
When
I look at us, honestly, I see only us. Us, and maybe a few people that we
impact, a couple people we inspire, another handful that we help to deliver
from darkness. Good stuff, but so insanely (and ridiculously) shortsighted.
But
God sees something else. Something bigger.
Something
much, much bigger.
He
sees how we will impact not only people, but generations.
He
sees how we fit into his Kingdom, how eternity will be affected because of us.
For
so long, the thought of God’s plan for my life has terrified me.
I
want that to change.
I
want to be excited. Eager. Delighted.
I
want to be expectant.
There
was no question in my mind over whether I would see the sun this morning.
That
is how I want to be when it comes to God.
That
certain, that convinced, that full of faith.
That
confident that I will see what I hope to see.
So
much of the struggle stems from me. My stubbornness. My faithlessness. My
vacillation. My woundedness. My distrust. My refusal to release my decaying
piece of nasty pride, to take hold of everything he has for us. My inability –
or unwillingness – to hold onto his promises when the waves start to rise and
the boat starts to rock.
In
this, I am beginning to see just how horrifically deep my pride goes. How wretchedly
far I have fallen from original glory. How insidiously deceiving the satanic
spell has been.
And
in this, I not only have the chance to lay down more of my pride, but I have
the chance to let him change me. And to see how patient he truly is with me. How
very patient. And persistent. And faithful.
No
matter how faithless I am, no matter how much I doubt, he just keeps reaffirming
everything. And poking little holes in the darkness. I’ll flip on the radio and
hear the song I need to hear. I’ll open my Bible, and the first thing I see is
the exact verse I needed to read. I’ll have a dream where I fall over a hundred
feet (I am quite scared of heights), and his hand rests beneath me, slowing my
descent to almost nothing, and then setting me gently onto my feet on solid
ground.
I
can’t make the sun rise. I can’t make the dawn break. Not in the physical world
and not in our marriage, either. God has already decided the timing of things.
And now, we are waiting.
Back
when my husband first started really struggling (that I saw, at least), I had
this thought: “I wonder if this is for me just as much as – if not more than –
him.”
Time
has proven me far more correct than I would have imagined when I thought that
thought.
This
is for me. This has been for me. God is using my husband’s struggles to not
only draw him back to him (which they eventually will), but to save me. To heal
me. To change me.
It
isn’t about making things happen.
It
isn’t about striving.
It
isn’t about manipulating or controlling. (Disgusting personality traits in me,
by the way. Ugh.)
It
is about continuing on the path before me, and waiting for God to call the sun
forth.
It
is about keeping my eyes open, and delighting in every tiny half-glimpse of
brilliant orange that I see.
It
is about trusting the one who IS faithful.
Because
soon, the hurt will lead to healing. Soon, the dark will break into morning.
Soon,
everything that hasn’t made sense, will bring me to my knees in awe.
I
will surely forget these troubles, recalling them only as water gone by.
And
life will be brighter than noonday.
This
WILL turn out for our deliverance.
Oh,
the sun is coming. It’s coming.
God,
help me hold on.
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