Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net
There is no delicate way to say this – I barely made it to church yesterday morning. The truth is, I didn’t want to go. As a pastor’s wife, this probably sounds blasphemous, but it is the truth and if nothing else, I want to be honest with you on my blog. Sundays are a strange animal when your family is in the ministry. My husband is up early preparing to preach and I am usually up between 5 and 6 so I can ready myself and get a little time reading God’s Word before being interrupted by our kids and breakfast, or any of the other routine or crazy things that try to steal my focus before getting to fellowship with my church family. Yesterday morning, though I did not get up at 5 or 6 or even 7. I laid in bed as though my limbs were lead and did not move except to turn my alarm off. My husband came and held me, his arms holding me as I wondered how I could be doing this to my family.
All week long we have struggled to get the kids to school, and though the kids have been dawdling, I know the majority of the blame is mine. My routine has been high-jacked by grief, my concentration seems nil, my ability to rise and shine nonexistent. With migraines, a head cold, and a heavy heart sore as the actuality of the loss of my mother becomes real to me, I can’t seem to make sense of anything. I am getting through tasks, making my way through conversations, even getting details finished for an upcoming show. But at each step of progress, there seems to be several other things falling and shattering on impact. I praise God that He is keeping me going as I remember to put my trust in Him.
I’ll confess something else, it hurts to trust Him right now. It truly does, because He wants me to rise when I long to sink, and go ahead and go to church. Whining, “I don’t wanna,” is understandable, but not the end of the argument. In truth, He doesn’t argue the point at all, He simply recalls to my mind all the times before when I was hurting and hid away instead of embracing obedience. Depression and I have a long relationship from high school on, and she would gladly become my companion if I allow myself to snuggle up to her. But anytime I have, I have slowly numbed myself to life and stopped living it, couching myself in sadness. Becoming one with my bed and not leaving the house is not an option, not anymore. I remember the feelings of agoraphobia tightening my chest when I thought of leaving my home. I won’t go back to that pretense of life.
It’s not that I don’t need time to mourn, time to rest, or time to simply be alone. I do need all these things, but I am in desperate need of the comfort of His Word and His people. Just as my head starts to seek refuge underneath a mountain of blankets, I must pull it out and find my brothers and sisters, my church family. I am falling apart, and only my heavenly Daddy can put me back together. Only He knows how to mend these pieces and soothe my heart. In His wisdom, He reminds me to go, obey, and the reward of such discipline is evident as tears flow down my cheeks listening to what God longs for me to hear in the lessons and sermons. Hugs and prayers are exchanged, I remember my pain is not solitary, there are so many others hurting. We must lift each other up, not forget to come together! I cannot hide my pale face or lie and say all is fine.
I hear Him speak so clearly, “Do you see Me here in this hard place? Do you see Me in the love of your church family?”
This hard time will not last forever, but the choices I make here and now will continue to set a pattern for my life, set an example for my children and the precious women God is allowing me to teach. I must rest, eat, and worship even now; especially now. My Father knows best, I want to obey.
What hard thing is God asking you do now? What is the first thing you can do to obey?
For further meditation:
Hebrews 10:19-25, 12:4-17