On June 24, 2017, God snatched something from me.
I am not yet even sure what exactly I lost; after 4 days of the worst of a terrible situation was over and recovery the order of the days ahead. The world kept on moving at its usual clip–family gatherings, cooking, cleaning, trips, nail salons, bill payments, work meetings. Yet I seemed to be standing still even as my hands and feet moved from task to task on autopilot. Slips into my conscious produced tears formed in angry fists full that scared me to death. I cried privately, hands balled up and ready to battle. In my mind, I should have been joyful and grateful and overflowing in the praises that seem to roll off everybody else’s lips; instead I was suspicious and afraid. Where was the God whom the people called Jehovah Rapha, Shalom? Where was my deliverance? Where was my peace? Why was my wholeness shattered, the healing I was so diligently working toward halted?
Whatever God took from me, I could sense it but could not name it. So I called it exhaustion. I labeled it weariness. It lay on me like a shroud that had the suffocating quality of depression. I could not pray; no, I was angry. Because whatever the thing-that-could-not-be named was, it was something I’d set my house on. And now, the walls were caving in as though it was just sand–shifting and useless as a foundation.
I wonder if this is what David felt like when God struck Uzzah dead, or how Job spent his days after being brought down low, or how Mary felt as an angel derailed her life with the burden of bearing God in flesh. This visceral fear and almost loathing of God’s unquestionable power hung about the soul like a millstone around a weary neck. This involuntary rejection of God saying, “Ah, but there is more that I require of thee.” Each time, each one said, “Okay.” But what of their emotional turmoil that came with losing a friend, a life, a choice? Theologians and preachers everywhere shout and dance over the miracles that happened each time–the Ark returning to Israel; the double portion given back to Job; heck, JESUS the Christ coming through and saving us all. Yeah, they all talk about the glorious, the miraculous; but who talks about the reality the losses hat happened before the gains? Who points out the gory in the glory? The mess that made the miracle? The sorrow turned to success? Reality and spirituality collided each time; I wonder how each felt as they surveyed the gains that sprouted from heartbreaking losses.
I know I will need to move forward. And in my innerparts I understand that whatever God took from me would have somehow kept me from this next level. But I cannot help but be distraught right now, shrinking back from a God who has maimed me in order to bless me.