The Worst Top Ten List I've Ever Made

If you would have asked me a few years ago if I was a fearful person, I wouldn't have hesitated answering with a resounding no. I could clearly see God's care and blessing in my life and was enjoying it.

Then the darkness came. And lasted a long time. It lasts still. Some days are a fight to stay positive. To not give in to despair. To not grow too tired of waiting for Him to bring light again.

As a follower of Jesus and lover of God's Word, the Bible, I know the necessary virtue of waiting on the Lord. It's part of our training. Part of His loving us. Good things come to those who wait. Strong roots of faith grow deep when we trust God while waiting. Joy in the sunny times is highlighted after enduring darkness. It's all good.

Until it lasts longer than we think we can bear. It's still dark here and one day turns into the next without much visible change. I'm up and hopeful one day and I wring my hands in prayer the next wondering what I should even be praying for.

Ever been there?

I love how Shauna Niequist puts it in her book Bittersweet. She calls this place 'the middle'.

"You don't know what the story is about when you're in the middle of it. You think you do, but you don't. You make up all kinds of possible story lines: this is about growing up. Or living without fear. You can guess all you want, but you don't know. All you can do is keep walking.

There's nothing worse than the middle. At the beginning you have a little arrogance, loads of buoyancy. The journey, whatever it is, looks beautiful and bright, and you are filled with resolve and silver strength, sure that whatever the future holds, you will face it with optimism and chutzpah. 

And the end is beautiful. You are wiser, better, deeper. You know things you didn't previously know, you've shed things you previously clung to. The end is revelation, resolution, a soft place to land.

But, oh, the middle. I hate the middle. The middle is the fog, the exhaustion, the loneliness, the daily battle against despair and the nagging fear that tomorrow will be just like today, only you'll be wearier and less able to defend yourself against it. The middle is the lonely place, when you can't find words to say how deeply empty you feel, when you try to connect but you feel like thick glass is separating you from the rest of the world, isolating and deadening everything."

Yes. Those are the words I've been looking for. I've read this chapter several times in the last weeks, drinking in the understanding and hope. One day I decided I would journal about the feelings bubbling up. Sometimes writing them down gives them validation and peace follows.

I imagined being asked by anyone who loves and cares for me, "What are you most worried about? What are you fearful of?" There it is, my admission that I engage in imaginary conversations (do you, too?). Then, true to my Type A characteristics, I made a list. 

Within minutes, I listed ten fears. TEN! That alone was startling. Talk about the worst top ten list of all time. What happened to me? To my first day of school faith? My jumping in the deep end even though I can't swim very well faith? Was I letting fear feel safer than trusting God?

Seeing the words on the page though stirred some things inside. Tears first, naturally. Tears of self-condemnation. How can I be so afraid of so many things? Tears regretting that Jesus could rightly say to me like He said to the discipes that stormy night in the boat, "Oh you of little faith, why do you doubt?"** The good news is (unlike me) He doesn't ask the question to condemn, but rather to comfort and redirect focus. To gently underscore, "You can trust Me even when you can't see." So I cry about that too.

I'm embarassed at the number of times I need this reminder. How do I progress past this? Then this morning, a friend posted on Facebook what I've copied below and I was like a deer in headlights. Staring and rereading. Check it out:

"Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee."
Psalm 55:22

Care, even though exercised upon legitimate objects, if carried to excess, has in it the nature of sin. The precept to avoid anxious care is earnestly inculcated by our Saviour, again and again; it is reiterated by the apostles; and it is one which cannot be neglected without involving transgression: for the very essence of anxious care is the imagining that we are wiser than God, and the thrusting ourselves into his place to do for him that which he has undertaken to do for us. 

We attempt to think of that which we fancy he will forget; we labour to take upon ourselves our weary burden, as if he were unable or unwilling to take it for us. Now this disobedience to his plain precept, this unbelief in his Word, this presumption in intruding upon his province, is all sinful. Yet more than this, anxious care often leads to acts of sin. He who cannot calmly leave his affairs in God's hand, but will carry his own burden, is very likely to be tempted to use wrong means to help himself. This sin leads to a forsaking of God as our counsellor, and resorting instead to human wisdom. This is going to the "broken cistern" instead of to the "fountain;" a sin which was laid against Israel of old. 

Anxiety makes us doubt God's lovingkindness, and thus our love to him grows cold; we feel mistrust, and thus grieve the Spirit of God, so that our prayers become hindered, our consistent example marred, and our life one of self-seeking. Thus want of confidence in God leads us to wander far from him; but if through simple faith in his promise, we cast each burden as it comes upon him, and are "careful for nothing" because he undertakes to care for us, it will keep us close to him, and strengthen us against much temptation. "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee."*

This is serious business. I wanted to throw up. What is my problem? Why can't I remember these things? It can't just be my rapid approach to middle age.

As always, I'm so grateful that God doesn't count up how often we need reminding. Instead, He invites us to come close and trust again.

So I pray. And I repent. I imagine God smiling. He knows our weary hearts. He reveals the junk in our hearts for our good, not to cripple us. Then He motivates us to get back in the game. Convinced He is always good, I am willing again to not only wait for His timing regarding all my concerns but also to trust the special attention He gives to every detail. I promise with His help not to sin by trying to take matters into my own hands. Because this...

He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all - how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things? Romans 8:32

and

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Matthew 10:29-31

and

"You may be experiencing little sunshine,but the long periods of gloomy darkness have been wisely designed for you, for perhaps a lengthy stretch of summer weather would have made you like a parched land or a barren wilderness. The soul that is always lighthearted and cheerful misses the deep things of life. Your Lord knows best, and the clouds and the sun wait for his command."***

 

Are you fears crowding out your faith today too? I suggest writing them down, taking away some of their power. Then give every one of them to your heavenly Father in prayer, believing strongly that He will carry them for you because He loves you.

Plain and simple....He loves us. We can put all our trust in that. In Him. And fear not. Because one day we will see.That gave me goosebumps.

*Charles Spurgeon
**Matthew 14:31
***Streams in the Desert
all bold - mine!