A few Fridays ago, I was standing in my living room, screaming at God. I was so angry, how could he do what he did to me!? How could he give me something so beautiful and then rip it out of my grasp!? How could he want to see me hurt!?
At that point, it had been a week since the time I had seen “M”. A long, hard week. A week during which my family had held me, loved me and taken me to church with them. Looking back, I remember the pain. However, I also remember waking up on Saturday morning to a loud thought in my mind. A thought that wouldn’t leave me, no matter what I did that Saturday. It was a simple thought, really. “Go to church.”
Of course, in my period of frustration, hurt and anger, going to church wasn’t something I thought I would gain anything from. I was wrong, so very wrong. See, within the first five minutes of being there, I knew the answer to my questions. I wasn’t ready for what I had experienced. In fact, I still had a long way to go before I would be ready for what I wanted.
A couple services later, I started to struggle with a new situation. How could I possibly trust God to just take all of my baggage? How could I honestly just put all of my faith in him and move forward. Really, though, my biggest fear was handing all of the control over to God and just sitting back, establishing a relationship with him, making him my best friend and making him the my priority.
Then, I started to pray. In the shower at first and, before I knew what was happening, I could hear God responding. Obviously not physically, but in my heart. Still, I wasn’t certain. I was so terrified to just let all of my anxiety fall onto someone new.
So I asked for prayer and guidance for yet another week, but I started to slowly hand my worries up to the Lord. Then I crashed my car and, thinking my insurance company had my back (they didn’t), I took control of the situation. Yet, the next morning I was told that they didn’t. And there I was, lying in bed, at a bottom lower than the fake bottom I had been at for about three weeks.
In a moment, when I was so terrified and struck by fear, I jumped. I gave everything up to God. I finally realized that what was meant to be was meant to be, but worrying wasn’t going to change anything. Suddenly, I felt peace. My mind stopped drifting to “M” and started to focus on God. I started to crave his message. I couldn’t get enough. Yet, the best parts were the overwhelming sensation of peace, the constant companionship and the conversations (mostly one sided, at least out loud).