More dabbling in multiple books–I really think I’ve caught the Jeff bug. In fact, it was he who handed me John Piper’s Suffering and the Sovereignty of God. Why? It went something like this: Kari crying, again. Weeping is more like it. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t do it. I can’t live here. I’m going crazy. It’s not like I have a bad day every once in a while. Every day is a bad day. I’m depressed; I can hardly get myself out of bed because I hate how every day is. I can’t keep doing this, but I know I can’t say that because I can’t tell God what to do and I’m supposed to be content, and every day I pray and plead with God to help me have joy and be content and not be so bitter and resentful and awful, and I’m supposed to be preparing to speak at this women’s retreat and I have nothing to say because if I say anything worth saying it will be totally fake. I can’t encourage anyone when I can’t even trust God myself…” This then drowned into more sobbing. Jeff, who listens WAY better than Peter Parker does in Spiderman 3 (and I told him that), listened quietly, stroked my cheek as I cried, and suggested that since I had nothing to pour out for the retreat ladies, I might has well just take more time to “fill up the well” so to speak, by reading something that would nourish my soul. He pulled down Suffering and the Sovereignty of God and opened it to chapter seven.
So I read one thing that at least gave me an “exercise”, something to do, which always helps. (You have to understand I need baby steps here. I’m sure you’ve surmised by now that I am not doing well. We need baby steps at this point.) The sentence was “Profound good often emerges in a crucible of significant suffering” and then the point was made that perhaps the most trying circumstances are simply those that last a long time. A quick and painful blow can often be endured, while the gnawing ache of disappointment wears us down to the core. So the question asked was this: “What has marked you for good [during this season of suffering]?” Hmm. What has marked me for good? A pretty simple exercise. Let’s see.
1. I’ve written more in the past 13+ months than ever before. 2. Maybe in the end our marriage will be stronger since this year has been so hard. 3. We haven’t spent money on clothes or house stuff. 4. We’ve gotten a lot of school done. Um….
You know what though? The truth is that I just can’t see it yet. I’m still too far in the midst of the circumstance to even see it right. The fact is right now as I sit there trying to think, I can think of ten bad things for every good thing. It’s been SO hard on our marriage. We have less money and more debt than ever before. I feel discouraged and depressed almost all the time, like it takes a supernatural measure of courage to do everday things. We have no close friends nearby. We’ve invested a year in a place where it now seems likely we won’t be long term. We have nowhere to live. We have no job. There are a million three-generation-household-living dynamics that are driving me insane (and I know we drive my parents crazy!). And the worst is that this was my choice, and I should be thankful, I know that, but I’m not. I’m miserable, and every time I think of one thing to be thankful for, there are five things that bombard my mind that are depressing.
So, sorry to get so real and raw with you, but what this has taught me is that I don’t think I’m going to see this one very clearly until later. Time will have to tell what those “good things” are. I just received in the mail my first (self-published) book of The Road to Santa Clara, complete with the cool cover Jeff designed. Now, it’s easy to see all the awesome lessons we learned there. But at the time, I was absolutely miserable and couldn’t see the forest for the trees. So I guess I’m there again. I refuse to be fake here. I refuse to tell you that I’m encouraged and seeing God’s awesome purposes and rejoicing in the midst of my frustrations. Yup, not really there yet. But I’ll at least be honest and vulnerable with you. And one thing I know, I know that will be a time when it will be clear. It’ll make sense. I’ll begin to see the good that arose from this. And you know what? I can honestly say, that even if that time never comes, I’m ok with that. Because God is God. Though my flesh may be destroyed (or my heart), with my eyes I will see God. Though he slay me yet will I trust Him. I will weep and and pour out my heart to Him because He’s said that we can. I will continue to plead with Him for grace. I’ll feel and experience the emotions. But time will have to tell what God makes of all this. ANd that’s ok, because He’s God. I don’t have to understand. It’s ok. And surprising to even myself right now…I’m ok too.