A year of internal healing has commenced, and so, I began my internship with the expectation that I would be able to jump in and start learning and doing ministry again. However, in the quiet moments, I have found how broken I still really am. During worship, I glanced at my new friends - still in their early 20s - freely worshiping with all abandonment. I thought I trusted in Jesus. I know He is my Savior and Lord. But there is a heartache that doesn’t allow Him in when I am in need.
I have been bad at that. Allowing myself to be in need. Because being in need means putting a burden on someone by which it isn’t their responsibility to carry. But when I have had my own questions, I didn’t find myself the room where I could ask. So, I would silently cry. I would wrestle in secret. The thoughts - and the emotional and spiritual scars - I have carried are more than what acquaintances would configure me having.
It isn’t a secret that the topic of healing has been a recurring theme and question. However, with every battle that I faced, I learned a little more that God’s goodness doesn’t fail to sustain. Many times, I don’t necessarily get an answer to “Why didn’t You heal,” except for a response of, “Will you trust that I am good?”
Trust. So easy for a child. But when faith has been beaten down, trust can seem like a distant hope. Especially, when you grew up in a church that claimed all the healing verses for a pastor, sick with cancer, and yet, he died. And when we begged God for a physical resurrection, it didn’t happen. The little thing that people would know about me… I didn't realize that when Pastor Steve died 16 years ago, his death affected my ability to trust in God’s goodness. Nay…not that.
I stick with Jesus, because I know He’s good. But I have had trouble consistently believing that God would heal, or that He would raise the dead (especially, when cancer is involved). I have taught myself to pray for someone from a distance, because failure to see any immediate change would - I was convinced - put the reputation of Jesus in jeopardy. I could pray for someone who’s a Christian, because I was assured that their faith wouldn’t deplete when a desired outcome wasn’t seen.
I have been convinced that someone’s healing was dependent on me.
I learned this when I would go up to the altar for my own healing…and not seeing anything, would be told that I just needed to have faith. I just needed to receive it. When Pastor Steve died, comments were made that he may have died, because we didn’t pray enough. And when he died and didn’t raise from the dead, I didn’t give myself time to mourn. I became fixated on making sure my mind didn’t question the goodness of God. Furthermore, when I had family who had their own questions surrounding the pain, I had to become the backbone to hold them together.
I knew that Pastor Steve is still a painful component in my life (I still find myself having tears when I mention him), but I never took stock that it had affected my faith. After all, sixteen years later, I am still holding onto Jesus. However, every death that followed, burying someone was another gut punch. “God, how do I get to see You win in this situation?” Cancer became a curse word. Despair and chaos looked like normalcy. I thought I was strong, but while holding on, part of me was broken. I needed to sufficiently mourn and let go of my burden.
Truth is, there was a time that I prayed with such great faith. I knew without any doubt that God had given us promises of His goodness and faithfulness. And I stood on them firmly. However, something has occurred over the years. I have stopped asking, unless it was of immediate importance. I have simply expected and figured out a way to get what I wished; and when what I hoped for didn’t come to fruit, I became inwardly distraught. “Will God come through like I need to?” This is the secret that I've held from public view.
I have failed to trust God for the things I needed. I have failed to trust God that He knew best. I have failed to trust that God would show His goodness when I needed Him to move. So, I stopped asking. Internally, I either demanded, or detached. It’s no wonder that when God directed me to write a poem about standing on His word and declaring who He is, all that flowed were words expressing my pain. There was a wall, and it needed to break.
Finally, the dam that burst my secret to the conscious: “If people spent more time asking for My will (in the situation), there would be less pain. I’m not God just for when I do things according to plan. And if there is something that goes wrong, it’s not because it's your fault. Pastor Steve didn’t die just because people didn’t pray enough.”
It wasn’t my fault that Pastor Steve died.
That was the weight I carried. That somehow, God’s hand was limited to my ability to pray and ask for things. Somehow, in the mess of faith in faith (coined by an elder in my Spokane church), I became convinced that if a promise of God did not come in on my timing or in my way, then I believed that God was not for me. I believed that the outcomes of prayer were an indication of His grace for me. But grace is not grace if it depends on me. God is still God. He is still good. But His ways are not my ways. Therefore, I must consider His vantage point and will.
This isn’t to negate prayer. This isn’t to forget that there are promises of God to hold onto; certainly, there are. I do believe that God is sovereign, but He also chooses to partner with His Church to bring about His will. But I am learning there is a difference between asking God to move and demanding how He should move. I think it’s okay to recognize a testimony and ask God if He can do the same work on a personal level. It is okay to read about a miracle in the Bible and implore the Creator to move as He once did. With intercession, I am learning to see the eternal perspective, not just the finite; humble enough to know that He is Lord, good, and never ceases to be such.
This is one aspect of breaking through in trusting God for me. In writing the following poem, I had to pause, because I have found that my heart is jaded concerning different aspects of the character of Jesus. There is much pain I have forgotten. But I am learning to trust again, one step at a time.
“Standing on Your Word”
My heart has been broken;
My mind scammed.
As death surrounds,
The silence of seemingly
Unanswered prayers haunt my memories.
Hope buried asunder from sight.
Don’t let my heart
Declare You a liar.
It is in the grave that seeds grow.
Protect my heart to hold
Onto heaven’s truth
After the first hearing -
Long after my mind has forgotten
Based on the first sight
Of hell on earth.
Trauma is great for drama
But living with it tempts faith.
A small light is a great liar
And he convinced me
To believe You were unworthy
Of my trust.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I must acknowledge my lack
Of understanding which
I so easily professed.
I know You
Are worthy
Of my praise.
When humanity cries,
I know the answer has already come.
His name is Jesus.
Help me to stand on Your word,
As I wait.
With Your breath
You uttered life.
With every breath I breathe
I admit the One
Who made the complete conglomerate.
You hold all galaxies in Your hand
Yet Your eye is intimately entwined
With every fiber of creation.
Ushering in a dominion
That brings freedom,
The innocence You hold
Cleanses the soul.
Righteousness wrought in my name
Fails to compare
To Your benevolence
Which never extends
Into a conclusion.
How lowly my aims
To only see a portion
Of who You are!
If Your mercy was withheld,
Do I not recognize where I’d be?
It was unreserved love
That emboldened Your hand
To be bloodied for me.
Your foresight expands
Beyond my comprehension.
And yet, with a holy graciousness,
My questions never intimidate
Your lordship.
Never promising immediacy,
Yet promising faithfulness,
You invite me to a certainty
Beyond the senses and sentiments.
So…
May the solitary silence
Not produce a fear of insolence.
May it become a reminder
Of the presence of the One
Who is awesome beyond
What language could explore.
As I utter my pleas,
You will speak Your word.
As I wait for Your promises,
More so, I will wait for You.
