I have a secret. One that I’m barely able to admit to myself let alone commit to words…especially those permanently affix to a blog post.
I think I’m losing faith.
Somewhere between God’s got it figured out and God loves you, it all seems to crumble, rushing through the holes of my conscious thought and into waking nightmare. I’m in the ER with my girl…again.The Pollyanna “finding beauty” has gotten lost in deep darkness and I can’t seem to find the way out.
I went to church on Sunday for the first time in I don’t know how long. Months maybe. I think I was looking for a way to fix myself, and pretend that we’re better. We (and by we, I mean they) discussed a desperate father with a sick son and the poor man’s broken-down faith.
I couldn’t stay. The easy discussion rubbed me raw, and I ran…barely holding myself together until I got to the bathroom and locked myself in. I don’t blame them. I don’t have any ill will. I might even have said similar things in my past.
Perhaps it’s just too close to the time I nearly lost my daughter. There’s something to be said about the healing of time and space. But what do I do in the meantime?
My faith seems too small, my understanding too narrow.
I’m terrified of where my mind trails.
I know the logic, the arguments for God’s existence. I know that emotions aren’t always accurate, but logic fails just as often.
And where does that leave me, but swamped in numbed confusion, trying to be thankful and finding my thanks lacking—stuttering in half-alive “at least the worst didn’t happen” statements:
- At least my daughter didn’t die.
- At least I got a few hours of uninterrupted sleep last night.
- At least I feel better today than yesterday.
- At least our insurance pays 80% of the medical bills
And all the “at leasts” make me feel guilty of my sorrow because I know all too well where it could have led. Until last night, my daughter was home, safe, starting to dip her toes back into life, and there are far too many others on the losing side of my equation.
There are parents whose daughters die, who lay awake all night, who feel worse today than they did yesterday, who watch medial bills tower without the benefit of insurance.
As I sit in the ER waiting for another test, I am fully aware that I may yet be on the losing side.
How can I “lean into” a God that is so rarely where I expect him to be? [tweetthis display_mode=”button_link”]How can I “lean into” a God that is so rarely where I expect him to be?[/tweetthis]
I’ve lost the secret to contentment and my faith crumbles in the onslaught. But somehow, some way, my faith won’t let go of me. And it’s here that I am.