I’ve thought about this post on and off all day.  All week really.  I haven’t had the nerve or the energy really to deal with it yet.  I’m anticipating a breakdown of sorts by the time I am done it – but we’ll term that “therapeutic” for now I guess.

I am avoiding God.

I think, at the core of it, is the sin of pride.  Of course, I imagine most times we run from God it’s pride related.  But the truth of the matter is, I’d rather be strong in my own strength right now, than weak in Christ.

It’s complicated.  I have no doubts God is working all things for my good in all that is going on.  I have no doubts His will will bring us the most everlasting joy.  I don’t find myself angry with Him, or wondering why.  I don’t second guess His love, or His sovereignty, or His purpose and plan.  My head and my heart are in agreement with what the Scriptures say about who He is, and how that relates to me.  So, it’s not from the theology or the heart of God that I run from.  I run from His comfort.

You see – I can go about my day, and function, and not cry when I’m being strong.  I can answer the phone, and talk to clients, and run my press and parent quite well when I listen to my secular music.  If I block out what’s going on, I’m able to keep it together.  But the minute I listen to lyrics like Jadon Lavik’s  “Someday”, I lose my composure.  And today, when the pastor shared our news with the congregation and there was an audible, collective intake of breath, I had no hope of keeping the tears from running down my face.  I can’t pray without tears.  I can’t sing hymns without getting choked up.  Reading Scripture is hard.  And so is answering “are you okay?”.

No.  I’m not okay.  My mom has cancer.  But, because I don’t feel hopeless, or helpless, and I don’t doubt the Lord’s ability to heal her, I feel guilty about crying.  I feel like being upset, and teary eyed, and scared is weak right now – and that for lots of reasons.  I have an innate ability and desire to be there for others – that’s my first concern in all of this. Navigating through one another’s grief is tricky.  It’s kind of like… It’s like reading a map where all the markings are in a different language.  You can kind of make it out, but it might take a little longer.  And we are all sort of on the same map, but we have our own paths on it.  We have strong days and weak days.  And the Lord is good to us – because our strong and weak days don’t seem to often line up with one another’s.  And so some days we can be on the giving end of things, and some days on the taking end.  And that is a very wonderful thing.  I just don’t do taking so well.  Taking feels weak too.  It’s ironic.  It’s actually hypocritical. Because my advice to anyone standing where I am would be (has been), to not fight the emotions that come.

I feel as though NEEDING God right now is admitting that this is a scary thing.  How horribly, terribly naive and sinful.  The truth of course is that we all need Him all the time.  “I need Thee every hour” doesn’t just apply to the bad days.  The sooner I recognize and revel in the idea that there is not a breath I take that He has not given me, the better off I’ll be. Not needing God is an absolute fallacy.

In this case though specifically- and not in the general sense right now – I’m reminded of the time that Paul  asked the Lord to remove the thorn in his flesh.  And God would not, because He wanted Paul to rely on Him:

But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. – 2 Cor 12:9,10

He does not want me strong.  He wants me to need Him.  He wants to meet all of my needs too.  In my running from His comfort, He is not made much of.  In my self-reliance, others don’t see His grace and goodness.  It’s only in my weakness and need that His light can truly shine…


I’m scared.  I’m scared that once I humble myself, truly humble myself, and admit to Him just HOW MUCH THIS HURTS RIGHT NOW the tears won’t stop.  I’m afraid that in listening to songs that ought to give comfort – hymns of strength, and eternity, and hope, that I will simply buckle and crumble under the weight of it all.  As though running from God, and His mercy, I can somehow avoid the inevitable.  Because – regardless of whether He blesses my mom with 6 months, or another 4 decades, eternity is inevitable.  And how I’m choosing to run to or from His comfort now is most definitely setting a pattern for the future…

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Jenn
    Mar 13, 2011 @ 21:14:36

    I had no idea, Nic. Sending you a huge, virtual ((squeeze)) and I will be praying along with you and for you.


  2. Raquel
    Mar 14, 2011 @ 00:43:32



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