The Rest of the Story . . .

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. John 10:27

When I was a young(er) adult, I was going through an intense period of doubt regarding a certain spiritual matter. I was reminded by a dear mentor and friend, whom I probably called way too much, that God's sheep will know His voice. He repeated it over and over to me: "My sheep hear my voice . . ." and told me not to worry, because no matter what I thought at the time, I was one of God's sheep. He also said that this was a very exciting time, and that even though I couldn't understand it or see it, God was leading me into some kind of deeper understanding about Him.

Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . . Psalm 23:4

Just a few months ago, I caught a glimpse of what I think is the valley of the shadow of death. And for me, it was feeling separated from God. When I think of telling people about what happens in eternity, and when I think that there's either a Heaven or a Hell, what I want to say about Hell is that you are eternally separated from God. I believe what the Bible says about sheol, but what I can't resolve myself to say to anyone is that "you'll burn forever!" More, I'm sorrowful that anyone would ever be separated from God for eternity. At least, that's what I go over in my mind. And if only for a brief period, or maybe a few periods of my life, when I felt separated from God, it was the loneliest, saddest, the time of greatest despair in my life. Although I know that I am, I'm not trying to speak of the theology of eternity, or to preach to anyone; I'm only going over in my mind and put into words my recent experience.

During that time of sorrow and doubt, of trying to pray but not feeling heard, of casting cynical (at best) glances at the Holy Book on my nightstand, I wondered so many things. First of all, why? Why was I doubting? Why couldn't I be happy about the outcome of the wreck? Why couldn't I stand in awe and praise? Why had that event turned into something that caused me to doubt the very existence of God, or His role in the universe, if indeed He was real? Doubts and questions so intense, more than anything I've wondered before, made me wonder about my future.

Not that I wouldn't be alive or happy with my family or my career or any of those things, but I knew that if I really did have a change of faith (to a new God, religion, or whatever), that things in my life would change drastically. That is because everything in my life up till July 14, 2008, had hinged upon the existence of the God of the Bible. Everything that I knew to be true, everything that mattered in life, was viewed through the lense of the intense love of the God who gave His Son for all the pain of all the world. That colored every thought in my head, the way that I treated or didn't treat people, my plans for the future, the way that my husband and I raised our children, what we did with our money, etc. etc. And so, if that changed . . . everything else would to. What would be right, what would be wrong? I'd have a whole new life to learn. It was more than I could bear.

I did something that I've often done, since I couldn't really pray. I asked the Holy Spirit to pray for me. If indeed there was a God, the one that I'd always believed in, then that could still work. In the Bible, in the book of Romans, Chapter 8, verses 26-27, Paul talks about how the Spirit helps us in our weakness. I've always found these words so beautiful and touching, "The Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." What a moving picture that paints, I think. How many times (like recently) have I gone through things for which I needed prayers, but couldn't pray? Couldn't even find words that would adequately express to others why I needed prayers? But just asking the Holy Spirit to advocate for me, to say those words with groans that only God could understand, while I myself was groaning . . . so I asked the Holy Spirit to pray for me, because that's all I knew to do.

And I shared, the best I knew how, what I was going through with those who loved me. Even when I was afraid that after my story, they wouldn't love me, I shared it anyway. Even if I just knew that they would shun me as a horrible mother and person, or that people would judge me for being anti-spiritual or I don't know what (my mind could think of so many condemnations), I felt compelled to reach out, and at every turn I was met with love. That fact truly overwhelmed me. On some level, I wanted to be hated. I felt I deserved it. I felt that if I were hated, then in some way I could earn back what I'd lost. Don't ask me to explain it or rationalize it; I simply can't. That's how it is with the Deciever, who hates those of us who are in Christ, who will tell us anything to draw us away from Him. Feeling that I deserved hate and could earn anything from God would be Satan's greatest victory. Accepting God's unconditional love and acceptance, and the love He lavishes on me through the hearts of family and friends, was a healing balm and a great gift that Satan didn't want me to experience, for it would draw me closer and closer to God.
I think it was this day in church when I started to hear God again. To think of God longing for me . . . longing to be gracious . . . not to condemn, but to love . . . and then the song . . . I was so thirsty, so weak, so wanting that Fountain, but not knowing how to get to it . . .

There's a song by the Indigo Girls called "Ghost," and though it is not a song about God or anything, I love the lines that say, "The Mississippi's mighty, it starts in Minnesota, at a place that you could walk across with five steps down. And I guess that's how you started, like a pinprick to my heart, but at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown." I don't know how to explain when I began to recognize God's voice again over these months, how I came back into fellowship with Him, how my faith has returned. It was a pinprick at first, I guess. I'm not drowning yet, but I'm about back up to my waist. I think that if I'm going to drown in something, this Fountain is a good thing to drown in.

So this has been my struggle, and this is my struggle: that I'm painfully, finitely human. That my life is, always was, and always will be a mess. That the only answer to my pain and yours and everyone's is the love of Jesus. That I don't understand lots and lots of things, that I never will, that I continue to wonder about stuff. That I know that the trial I've just gone through only makes me stronger for the next one.

I don't know if I've given you the rest of the story, really, but wanted to say that piece by piece, my faith is returning. I can't give myself any credit for this. I can only say that God chose to hide Himself from me for awhile (I believe that God does this, hides but doesn't go away . . .), but also that, like the poem, He carried me through this very dark time. His rod and His staff comforted me, even when I couldn't realize it. He was with me, even though I couldn't see or feel Him.

Well, now that you've read my novel (thanks) . . . I want to say that I'm still going through this. I don't think you can have your world shaken to the core and recover too quickly. Things are still mending, still falling into place. I still ask questions. But at least I've returned to a place of believing that my prayers are heard, that God does not despise my broken and contrite heart. I know that I'm hearing His voice again, and I can't tell You what a place of peace that is. It's overwhelming. If I ever could be speechless (my English teachers always scolded me for my wordiness). . . that aspect of this journey makes me speechless. God is no longer silent, and it is only joy to say that. Whatever I do or do not have answers for at the moment, one thing I do know: Christ and Him crucified. I glory in Him for what He has shown me, and for loving me through this time.

At work the other day, my friend Ms. D said, "Mrs. Donut, I have a friend who is convinced that God hates Him. Now why do you think anybody would believe that?"

My heart was sad for her friend. I just shook my head. I know what that feels like. I remembered the many, many prayers and kind words from friends on my behalf. I encouraged Ms. D to continue to pray for her friend and said I'd pray for him, too. I said, "All that I really know is that there's just one Answer to your friend's pain, and to my pain, and to your pain . . ."