forgetting what is behind

For the last few days, maybe a week, I have been haunted by painful memories of loss.  It seems that one after another, they’ve been coming back, demanding my attention, purposely trying to wear me out and devastate me.  I have had trouble sleeping lately but that doesn’t seem to stop God from waking me up at unearthly hours to meet with Him.  His favorite times seem to be during the 4 o'clock hour. For the last few days, though, I turned Him down, begging Him to just let me sleep. But even while I was doing that, I knew I was running the risk of rejecting His strength if I needed it. 

Thursday morning, I was awakened at 3:30 and could feel God entreating me.  I was like, "What?  No!  I'm tired!  Let me sleep!" I tossed and turned for hours, desperately trying to go back to bed.  I prayed for people, I prayed for myself, I prayed for sleep.  No good.  I finally got out of bed at 6:30 but by then my kids were already awake and requiring my attention.

That night the memories hit hard and were compounded by feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness.  I remembered rejecting His invitation to rest in His presence that morning, and I knew that if I had accepted, I might not be suffering with such a painful load.  But even with that knowledge, I still made the choice to run further away from Him, rather than to Him.  

I don't understand why I do that.  I don't understand why I run.  Logically speaking, it makes no sense.  It's like traveling down a raging river in an out-of-control canoe and purposely paddling away from the edge, where there are people waiting to rein me into safety.  Absolutely ridiculous.  And yet I did it this week.  

I'm not accustomed to not meeting with God several times a day and so to have that absent from my life for a couple days really takes a toll on me.  And then that makes me angry and I think, "So what?  I'm supposed to constantly stay plugged in otherwise I'm wiped out?  Come on!  Why doesn't the charge last a little longer than that?" 

But then I'm reminded of Jesus and how He was constantly praying.  He was meeting with His Father whenever He had a chance.  And He was GOD!  If anyone could have the strength to navigate peacefully through life's garbage, it should be the Son of God.  If He needed it, how much more do I need it?  

So today, I decided to return to God.  I set apart my day to seek restoration for my wounded heart.  I felt God inviting me to read the book of Philippians so I read some of it on my iPhone while I was soaking in the tub.  But I only got a few verses into it before I got distracted with text messages and youtube videos of lovely music I was trying to learn.  I was aware of God's presence, but even so, rather than find peace, I was hit with more and more memories.  This time they were exceptionally vivid.  When I closed my eyes in tears, the images and the emotions surrounded me and closed in on the air I was trying to breathe.  And even though some of the memories were two years old, they hit my heart like they were just yesterday.  And I wanted to go back.  I wanted to go back to those moments.  I felt that God was trying to lead me away from them and I fought hard to stay faithful to what I believed should be.  I doubted God's leading in my life.  I doubted the direction on which He had placed me. I wanted to go back.  I wanted to go back to where I had been and not move forward anymore.  My mind grappled at how I could make that a possibility.  What would I do first?  Where would I go?  I determined that I would not be moved forward.  I would go back.  

I sat on my couch and just wept, painful sobs of anger and hurt and loss and grief.  I tried to get up to walk away from the onslaught of memories but there was nowhere to run.  In hopelessness, I sent out a request for prayer to four friends.  I didn't tell them why; just said I needed it.  I knew they would pray.  I tried to claim the promise that their prayers would be answered.  But it wasn't enough.  I was crushed by it all and could no longer see the light.  Overcome, I found myself, a sad heap, kneeling on the floor, as far down to the ground as possible, begging God for relief from all of it.  Wondering why He was so far away.  Begging Him to come to my aid and heal the brokenness of my heart.  Asking Him why it still hurt so badly after all this time.  When -  oh when - would He restore my broken spirit?

In desperation I reached for my Bible and begged God to offer me consolation.  It fell opened to Psalms 85 and I read, Restore us again, God our Savior, and put away your displeasure toward us.  Will you be angry with us forever? vs. 4-5

The verse was the cry of my heart and caused me to fall even further at His feet.  I cried, "Why are you angry with me?  What have I done?  Why are you so displeased?"

From the midst of the anguish, I heard a still small voice speak to my heart, You don't trust me.  You need to trust me.  

But how could I trust Him when I was so broken?  I had to trust that the path on which He placed me was the correct one?  That would require more faith than I possessed.  "I can't do it, God."  I moaned.  "I can't move forward.  Not with the memories.  Make them go away, please."  

I can't even remember doing it, but apparently I flipped to another section of my Bible and my eyes fell on Jeremiah 33, The Promise of Restoration.  My eyes were drawn to a verse I had highlighted last year, Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and will let them enjoy abundant peace and security. vs. 6

My sobs subsided and I stared at the promise, glowing in yellow on the page.  Promise of restoration?  The word "nevertheless" is what struck me hard.  I felt God was saying, I know you don't believe me.  I know you don't trust me.  But nevertheless, I WILL restore you as I promised.  I was resigned. "Okay," I said, "I choose to believe.  But it's not easy, God.  It just isn't.  But I trust you. I submit my life to you again.  I believe that I am where I need to be."   

I sat up a little straighter, still on the floor, and I heard another still small voice in my spirit, Why won't you read Philippians like I asked you to?  

I wiped away my tears, drew in a breath of clean air and sat on my couch with my Bible.  I opened to the back to find Philippians and discovered I had opened right to it (chapter 4).  Right in front of my eyes, highlighted on my page (in pink) were the words, 

The Lord is near.  

I knew, with assurance that He was.  I knew He hadn't abandoned me nor neglected my heart.  I knew that I could trust Him.  The memories still elicited broken tears but it was all so much more manageable when I submitted my will to Him.  

I read all of Philippians.  I found many, many nuggets of wisdom, direction, hope and encouragement in that small book.  And I suppose that can be said for any book of the Bible, but this was the one He prompted me to read and I think I know why.  

But one thing I do:  Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead. (3:13)

There it is, among a treasure trove of so many other words of encouragement and light; my direction.

But it is not without immeasurable sorrow that I let go of the past.  Part of me is still struggling to hang on but it is God that wills me to move forward.  And so I step forward in faith, with a broken heart, but with assurance of His presence.  The Lord is near.  

A few hours later, I finally turned my phone back on and connected with a friend that had prayed during my struggle.  In the conversation, I learned that the possibility of going back was even more severed than I had anticipated.  Had I learned of this prior to my moment with God, I fear it would have crushed me further.  I guess it's settled, then.  I'm not going back.  

So now I ask, "What's next, God?  I'm all yours."  

I know that this blog post is a lot more personal that I'm used to writing.  Letting readers into my very intimate spiritual struggle comes with a risk, I know. Vulnerability is not my favorite thing to experience.  And to be quite honest, I'm not even sure if this has value for anyone reading it.  But I decided to share it, nonetheless.  Maybe I just don't want to be alone.  Or maybe it's okay for me to reveal a moment where I experience brokenness and despair.  Because generally speaking, I am quite content, and am full of joy and love and strength in Jesus.  But for whatever reason, it might be helpful to admit a real struggle and its resolution.