I’ve been told that God won’t stop pursuing me.
I’ve been told that God loves me unconditionally.
I’ve been told that God speaks in a still small voice.
For the last six months, I have vehemently disagreed with those statements.
I have been convinced that God had stopped pursuing me–that He has abandoned me.
I have been convinced that God hates me.
I haven’t heard any still, small voices lately. But then again, I haven’t really been listening for any either.
It has been a long stretch of oppression.
It started as a typical episode of depression and darkness. I didn’t panic. I am all too familiar with depression. But it grew. It took on a life of its own and turned into not only impenetrable darkness but also wielded a force of evil.
Almost an unbearable presence of evil.
I think that even if there was a still, small voice that tried to talk to me, and my ears would have been attuned to such a phenomenon, it wouldn’t have gotten through anyhow. I’ve never felt a darkness this thick weighing on me.
Within the last couple weeks, though, there has been a slight, ever so slight, piercing of light through the thick darkness that has threatened my life multiple times in the last few months. I still have not heard a still, small voice, but I am wondering if maybe God is trying to get my attention with a good, swift kick. I wonder that because there has been a longing in my heart to return to the path I wandered off of while stumbling in the darkness. I have found myself missing Sunday morning church services. Maybe that can be attributed to the time of year. After all, Christmas is the time when we celebrate the birth of Jesus. It only seems natural to be in church this time of year. I have also found a sense of disdain, for the most part at least, for some of the choices I made in the darkness of depression. There’s one more thing, too.
I’m tired of fighting.
Not too long ago, I was tired of fighting to live. I felt like my whole world was crumbling down around me as God seemed to take one thing after another away from me while, it seemed to me, to bless others I know with some of those things. Jealousy RAGED in me–and still does to a degree. But that’s for another post (maybe). Now, though, I am tired of fighting God. I’m pretty sure I am not going to win anyway.
Last week I had an appointment with a specialist regarding my MS. I did not get good news. My first thought was to curse God again, similar to what I did when I found out my grandson would be moving away from me. More than once I looked up toward heaven and screamed “I hate you!” at God. I blamed Him for my losses, my health, my depression, even my bad choices. The temptation to replay that exact scenario crossed my mind for sure. But, I didn’t do that. I didn’t thank Him for it either, but I’m okay with that for now, even though I know we are supposed to be thankful in all circumstances. I can’t bring myself to thank God for the potential to lose even more of my health.
But I did not feel the desire to turn my back on Him; if I did feel that, I quickly dismissed it and resigned myself to the fact that all my anger, all my cursing, all my screaming, would not change what God has in store for me. Fighting against God, I am learning, is fighting a losing battle.
I don’t know what will happen if I decide to return to church. I just know that there is a longing in my heart to return to God. I suppose I could accomplish that without returning to church, but I don’t know if that is the right answer or not. Regardless, I can’t completely ignore what seems to be a good, swift kick by God to get my attention. I have heard a quote from C. S. Lewis that says, in essence, that God shouts to us in our pain.
I think I can hear that…and feel it too.