My mind is whirling, backtracking to all my thoughts and prayers and
tears today. Mainly, I am thinking about how I stood face to face with
God, irate that he had, at best, allowed this money to be stolen or at
worst, stolen it himself. It hurt me deeply for my dear friends who
were so hopeful and thankful for that provision. Hanging up the phone with her, I cried out, "Where are you? Where ARE you? You'd better show up! Show yourself!' And "What's lost is found, what's lost is found," over and over.
It also hurt me
personally because it confirmed the fears and questions roaming around in my
heart the past few weeks. It confirmed that really, he is not the
God of blessing and good and growth, but that discipline and refinement
were more his priority than care. It confirmed that this refinement
involved the removal of every last joy and hope, that each one was to be carried up the
mountain and to have its throat slit.
And now! To hear that what
was lost was not actually lost, but misplaced, hidden deep, deep down in
a unseen place! There all along. There, each time a set of hands and
eyes searched. There, through every shed tear. There, through judgement
and decision. There, through anger and through acceptance. It was always
there...
I am brought once again to tears and chastened. I am stung by my lack
of faith and the decisions I made because of what I couldn't see. I judge and decide that this happened,
so this means... I see what I see and walk according to that thing, not the unseen
thing. My faith and trust are weak. My heart is bruised and sore. I see
myself, disappointed and confused and in pain, a girl beating on his
chest as he allows her fit of fears to be spent before calming her.
And now I
wonder while I lie here, spent of tears and emotion: what have I judged as lost that is still there, hidden deep,
deep down-so deep that even I can't find it within me? What joy, what
peace, what love lays deep in a hidden place, unseen and unaccessed because I have deemed it stolen? And what does this tell me about him in times of seeming loss? When it feels and looks as though God has abandoned me to the loss, and his back is turned, and I can't see him or hear him, will I believe that he still loves and works and holds me? Will I believe more in the loss, or will I trust and continue to reach out in the darkness and take hold of his outstretched hand?
