“Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.” - Philippians 4:6
My family and I were sitting around the breakfast table several months ago. Mom had just read this verse. One of the kids laughed incredulously, “What is it saying? Be careful for nothing – live recklessly?”
“No,” I answered quickly. My tone was very matter-of-fact, blunt, as if I were all-knowing. “It means do not worry.”
The kids all nodded among themselves and life continued on for them.
But for me life paused at my words.
I had heard this verse soooooooo many times. I had always known what it meant. But now? Now it really meant something.
“Do not worry.”
This path I've chosen. I can not see it. I can not feel it. I do not know where I am.
I have chosen to follow God, and no other. But why did He hide the light from my eyes?
I must take a step forward. But I do not want to.
How long will this path be? How long must I wait until God tells me what is to happen?
Questions. And no answers.
It is my perfect nightmare.
I do not know. And I can not know. I am vulnerable – open to hurt and pain. And I can do nothing to stop it.
I hear a sound. A rush of wings? Maybe a small bird?
But then my mind sees something not so cute. Something horrid and something to be feared. A long, pointed dagger. It must be in the center of my path. It is whirling round and round so that when it penetrates my open heart, it will cause unbearable anguish and pain.
I can not move forward.
My heart trembles with in me… it does not want to be hurt.
“Take my hand. I will guide you, comfort you.” God calls to me, even on this unknown path.
Comfort me from what? Does that mean I will have to face the dagger… if the dagger indeed exists?
But I do not get an answer. I may not know.
I may only trust. Wait. And hope.
Oh, but is it wrong to hope? Will it help me? Hope or not, if the dagger is real it will pierce my soul. But I can hope that it isn't?
“Trust me. Do not worry. Have faith.”
Do not worry. I laugh. How can I but worry?
Trust. Waiting. Those are things I may be able to force myself to do.
Not knowing, when knowing means everything to me. Even that I can sacrifice.
But to not worry? How can my Father even ask that of me?
Still He holds my hand. I'm so cold I can barely feel His touch. I can not see Him… the room is still too dark. I do not know. I must wait to know. And I must wait with out fear.
Can I do it?
No.
But will I?
I swallow, my saliva sliding down noisily. God is worth trusting. His ways are worth the hurt, the pain, the anguish.
I will trust him.
And so I put my foot forward. It shakes, wobbly and unsteady. But it does not give up on me, holds my weight and stops, to wait for the other foot.
I still do not know. But that is alright. I need nothing but God's hand.
I have only one request. Let my steps not be taken in vain.
Amen. I'm praying for you, girl.
ReplyDeleteYou are awesome :) Thanks for reading
ReplyDelete:) You're welcome!
DeleteI have shared this poem with some people close to me because I came across it and thought it had a raw honesty about faith and doubt that every modern church I have interacted with is unfamiliar or very uncomfortable with.
ReplyDeletefavorite line:
"Do not worry. I laugh. How can I but worry?"
This is such an honest response, and reminds me of Sarah and the way her doubts uncorked all the years of disapointment in a cruel laugh. It is also like how sin is something that we willfully commit, but it is always some sort of uncorking of something dark and not fully manifested inside.
If we attain a state of doubt, either honestly through enlightenment, or dishonestly through delusion, we remove our capacity for faith. For me this is one of the things that confuses me about heaven, for faith will no longer exist as we will then fully see. But that makes faith a temporary virtue, not eternal like love.
Really enjoyed reading through your comment! You make such a great point about how doubt is necessary to have faith, a temporary virtue. What an interesting idea.
DeleteIt was lovely meeting you all. I really do think you'd love the first article in Richard Wurmbrand's book "With God in Solitary Confinement".
It is lovely having old things of mine read again. Thank you!