Sometimes I wonder, “what would my life look like if I weren’t brought up in a Christian home? In some ways it’d be so much easier; I would have been able to be as promiscuous as I sometimes wanted to be, I would have lie-ins on Sundays, I could just be myself without fearing so much that I would be a disappointment to those around me because it would be just me against the world. And that’s just it, if I didn’t know Jesus from a young age I’d be alone. There would be no one I could call out to when I didn’t know who to turn to, no one to see my tears in the dead of night, whilst in the day I was acting like the happiest, most hyper girl in the school who always had her stuff together.
Honestly, there have been times when literally the only thing that kept me going was faith in God and the hope that He would make everything all right, in His perfect timing. And other times, when I could just not hold onto the hope, and it slipped out of my grasp I clung to His word. Even if I couldn’t believe He was ever going to step in and change my situation, maybe I could read how He did it for other people and maybe just maybe my hope and faith would return.
This past week has been… difficult. (Well, every week is difficult xD) But it was more challenging for my faith and my beliefs. You’ll probably be surprised to hear where I was when all this struggle was going on in my heart, but I was at (yet another!) Christian festival, Momentum this time. I cried out to God constantly, that He would reveal even a tiny glimpse of Himself to me, but I felt nothing. And I cursed him in my heart. Although I was praising Him, worshipping with my hands lifted up to the skies and singing my little heart out, I was screaming at Him inside. I was just so angry. And honestly, it scared me a little. There were some terrifying thoughts in my head, and this anger which I didn’t know how to direct at God, I directed at myself. Again. And there were times when I nearly directed it at others, and I just wanted to hurt them because I was hurting.
There was one night, it may even have been the first, when I was getting prayer and I wanted God to reveal His love for me. He didn’t, I felt nothing. And I could hear people around me, weeping their eyes out. I was fuming inside, I wanted to scream at them and hit them. I was shaking because I was so angry, at them, at God, at myself. (I have not cried in front of another person since primary school, I guess in my mind I equate it with weakness.)
I came across this quote from C.S.Lewis (I’m a big fan):
“Every believer has times in which they feel as though God is distant. Or absent altogether.”
So I am comforted that even the giants of the faith have their seasons of silence. Psalm 13 is all about David crying out to God:
How long, Lord?
Will you forget me for ever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Look on me and answer, Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death, and my enemy will say, ‘I have overcome him,’ and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.
Well, I guess I’ll make this psalm my prayer for now and trust in His unfailing love.
God is bigger than feelings and tears, He can be with us without us feeling anything.
I will trust in Him.