Most of the time I hold hands with God as we gaily stroll along this journey of life together…
but sometimes a season rolls around where I find myself CLINGING to him with an unwavering death grip…
I’m in one of those seasons.
It’s not an overwhelmingly dark season by any means, but I’m uncomfortable enough to let go of his hand and cling to him instead. A few weeks ago I wrote in my diary, “I’m sick of my car breaking down and boys breaking my heart.”
You know, that kind of season. Where nothing (or no one) seems stable and I can’t quite place how I feel. When people ask how I am I stop, scrunch my eyebrows and reply, “I think I’m good?”
I am good, life is good…but at the same time I am hurting. Unexpected disappointment has given me no choice but to cling to God and blindly trust that better things are in store.
But the thing is: I do have a choice and I could believe otherwise.
Before the World Race I didn’t cling to God (or even really hold his hand) – instead I held him at arm’s length. I believed he was good most of the time and would maybe come through when I really needed him. But if he didn’t (according to my terms) I had other people or coping mechanisms to turn to.
It wasn’t until I was in the heat of Africa, broken in body and spirit, that I finally decided to grab hold of him. And boy, did I GRAB HOLD. It was slippery grip with my sweat and tears, but I did not let go. When I pick up my diaries from that time I can literally feel those desperate cries to God – I don’t even need to open a page.
I went from that season to cold, dark days in Columbus, where God was on the wood floor of my bedroom. So I clung to him there. I am thankful I NEVER have to live through those months again, but in a way I miss them…or rather, I miss the sweet intimacy I had with God on that wood floor.
This season I’m finding God in my bed. He waits for me every night and when I climb under the covers I exhale a sigh of relief. There you are.
And then I read Psalm 18.
Psalm 18 is baller because David cries out to God for help and God gets PISSED on David’s behalf. Smoke comes out of his nostrils and fire comes out of his mouth; his voice is like thunder and he shoots lightning arrows at the bad guys. I feel like I’m watching Godzilla when I’m reading it.
If you mess with David, you mess with God. And God always wins.
Tonight there was a thunderstorm and the lightning was fierce – I turned to my friends and told them about Pslam 18. I wondered who had cried out for help. And then I realized it was my storm.
Last summer I learned a lot about being accepted by God; this summer I’m learning about being protected by God. He tells me again and again that he is protecting me from things I will never know about because he stops them before they hurt me. So even though I’m hurting now, I trust that he is softening the blow. And if I cry out for help make sure to run for cover because a storm is on the way.
Wherever you are right now, in whatever difficult season, I hope you cry out to God and CLING to him while you wait for it to pass.
Because if you do, you just might look back one day and remember the sweetness of God in it all…