burdens on my heart
My heart aches tonight.
I have some very definite ideas of what I want out of life. I have goals and I get close to them, and then they are no longer in my control and that frustrates me to no end. I don't like having no ability to work towards what I want. Patience is not really the problem; it's helplessness that bothers me.
Some things in my life recently have taken drastic turns, and I am left waiting indefinitely with no guarantees of a positive outcome. The question becomes, do I keep waiting? For how long?
I don't want to give up, because these are things I care deeply about. They are dreams I've clutched tightly and woven ideas around and fallen in love with. I committed. I knew it would be difficult, and I said yes anyways. It's worth the heartache and the struggle and the waiting.
I want to give up. I don't want to care. I want to be fine without these hopes, carefree and casual. I don't want difficult, and I don't want to wait endlessly.
I keep coming back to a quote from Francis Chan's book Crazy Love: "Worry implies that we don't quite trust that God is big enough, powerful enough, or loving enough to take care of what's happening in our lives." I read that and I know the truth of it, and I realize how much I struggle with trusting God to take care of me. My constant cry is that of the father in Mark 9:24, who "cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help my unbelief."
I do believe. I do know. I do trust. But I do worry, which means I don't really trust, not quite.
I don't know right now which is right, to wait or to give up. I really, really don't know.
My first instinct was to turn to the Scriptures, and they have been a salve to my soul. I have read Romans more in the last few months than...well, ever. Every time I read it, there is something new to discover that speaks straight to my heart. I can't get enough. And yet, I find myself not opening my Bible, and not reading. I can't understand why, when I know the comfort it brings, and how much I love learning more.
I was thinking about this in the car on the way home tonight, wondering why I was so reluctant to continue the study I'd jumped into with so much delight, and I think I found my answer.
I'm afraid.
I'm afraid of learning more, because it might squash some dreams. I'm afraid of understanding, because it makes the burden on my heart so much heavier. I'm afraid of coming to that intimate level of prayer, because I don't want to weep anymore. I'm afraid of what might be asked of me, afraid of what I might be told to take on and what I might be told to give up. I'm afraid that God's plans for me aren't as good as what my plans for me are.
And because I'm afraid, I avoid it. I don't think too much on it, for fear that that dam will burst and I will have to deal with all of it and have to make a choice and have to trust and have to let go of control. Because really, that's what it is. It's a control issue. I want what I want, and I don't trust God to want it, too.
It sounds so silly to write that. I know that God's plans are better than mine. I'm me - look how royally I've screwed things up in the past because I chose what I wanted rather than waiting on what God had for me. This time is a little different - I do not know which are the right choices here, unlike times past. But it's the same thing. I know that God has what is best. I know that He is infinitely more than I could ever be - wise, good, loving, caring, forgiving, faithful, true. But my sinful self is resistant despite this knowledge, and it's a battle.
God is God, and I am not. What a fundamental truth, and yet how I fight it day by day.
Lord, I want to surrender to Your will, and to stop insisting on mine. I want to want what You have for me more than dreams I've built. But I'm going to need Your help in this, because I've proven that I can't do it myself.
I have some very definite ideas of what I want out of life. I have goals and I get close to them, and then they are no longer in my control and that frustrates me to no end. I don't like having no ability to work towards what I want. Patience is not really the problem; it's helplessness that bothers me.
Some things in my life recently have taken drastic turns, and I am left waiting indefinitely with no guarantees of a positive outcome. The question becomes, do I keep waiting? For how long?
I don't want to give up, because these are things I care deeply about. They are dreams I've clutched tightly and woven ideas around and fallen in love with. I committed. I knew it would be difficult, and I said yes anyways. It's worth the heartache and the struggle and the waiting.
I want to give up. I don't want to care. I want to be fine without these hopes, carefree and casual. I don't want difficult, and I don't want to wait endlessly.
I keep coming back to a quote from Francis Chan's book Crazy Love: "Worry implies that we don't quite trust that God is big enough, powerful enough, or loving enough to take care of what's happening in our lives." I read that and I know the truth of it, and I realize how much I struggle with trusting God to take care of me. My constant cry is that of the father in Mark 9:24, who "cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help my unbelief."
I do believe. I do know. I do trust. But I do worry, which means I don't really trust, not quite.
I don't know right now which is right, to wait or to give up. I really, really don't know.
My first instinct was to turn to the Scriptures, and they have been a salve to my soul. I have read Romans more in the last few months than...well, ever. Every time I read it, there is something new to discover that speaks straight to my heart. I can't get enough. And yet, I find myself not opening my Bible, and not reading. I can't understand why, when I know the comfort it brings, and how much I love learning more.
I was thinking about this in the car on the way home tonight, wondering why I was so reluctant to continue the study I'd jumped into with so much delight, and I think I found my answer.
I'm afraid.
I'm afraid of learning more, because it might squash some dreams. I'm afraid of understanding, because it makes the burden on my heart so much heavier. I'm afraid of coming to that intimate level of prayer, because I don't want to weep anymore. I'm afraid of what might be asked of me, afraid of what I might be told to take on and what I might be told to give up. I'm afraid that God's plans for me aren't as good as what my plans for me are.
And because I'm afraid, I avoid it. I don't think too much on it, for fear that that dam will burst and I will have to deal with all of it and have to make a choice and have to trust and have to let go of control. Because really, that's what it is. It's a control issue. I want what I want, and I don't trust God to want it, too.
It sounds so silly to write that. I know that God's plans are better than mine. I'm me - look how royally I've screwed things up in the past because I chose what I wanted rather than waiting on what God had for me. This time is a little different - I do not know which are the right choices here, unlike times past. But it's the same thing. I know that God has what is best. I know that He is infinitely more than I could ever be - wise, good, loving, caring, forgiving, faithful, true. But my sinful self is resistant despite this knowledge, and it's a battle.
Some things about God I may not like. I get angry and hurt when I read some things in the Bible. I've cried and shouted and told God it's not fair. But who are you, Laura, to answer back to God? "Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and how inscrutable His ways! 'For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been His counselor? Or who has given a gift to Him that he might be repaid?' For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen." (Romans 11:33-36)
God is God, and I am not. What a fundamental truth, and yet how I fight it day by day.
Lord, I want to surrender to Your will, and to stop insisting on mine. I want to want what You have for me more than dreams I've built. But I'm going to need Your help in this, because I've proven that I can't do it myself.
Hugs.
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