Remember this post? The one in which I declared that I was needing something different in my approach to Jesus, that I was changing this up? All guts and glory and pulling myself up by my spiritual bootstraps.
Well. It hasn't been going so well.
Here's what I think a major problem with the whole I'm-bucking-my-faith-system!!! thing is: that I think of it as "my approach TO Jesus." Shouldn't it be my approach OF Jesus? The first phrasing makes it feel like He's a problem to be solved; the second, like He's an actual person.
Another problem: I'm the one shouldering the issue in its entirety. I'm not saying, "Hey, God? I need some help." It's more like, "Hey, God? Here's what we're doing. Try to keep up."
That said, I think that something really does need to change. But whereas in my first 30 Days of Relationship post I shared that I was the one making all the changes, now I'm thinking more that God's got to be in charge of that.
I don't like that as much. Because it seems like it will entail a lot of waiting. And I'm tired of waiting.
Tired of waiting for opportunities, for my "career," such as it is, to start. And really, I guess I'm still waiting for my life to start, and I'm tired of that, too.
I'm tired of waiting to be a mama, to hold my child alive and squirming. I ache, terribly, for this. I don't know how I'm supposed to make it through another 15 weeks of pregnancy, especially when I know that there are no guarantees.
I'm tired of waiting to feel healed of past wounds that continue to dribble out their poison in the present. To feel not-broken.
So to have to wait on God? I just don't want to.
My reaction to the reality that whatever changes need to be made are up to Him? Avoidance, of course. I basically hid from Him all week, burying myself neck deep in planning and writing and other busy-ness that really are just the face of fear.
I've been hiding because I don't want to wait -- and because I don't want to feel disappointed by God. (Come to think of it, isn't there a book on this very thing? Yes, apparently, there is.)
Truthfully, I feel like a petulant child even writing this -- much less living it -- stamping my foot and wailing, "I don't wanna!" over and over. But if that's where I'm truly at, I don't want to lie to myself (and to you) and scoff that I'm totally and perfectly fine, thanks.
But what to do?
Honestly, I don't know. I suppose that I will wait, as much as I don't want to. And press into His Word, as I can.
But maybe . . . I won't read the Bible in the morning. I've been noticing, since Eve died, that when I let myself let go of my own plans, I tend to gravitate toward the Bible in the evening. So maybe I will let that happen as it will, and not beat myself up for not being a Bible + breakfast gal while I need to.
I really thought that the next post in this 30 Days of Relationship series would be more encouraging, more full of look-what-I've-done-and-how-you-can-do-it-too words. Instead, yet again, all I have to offer is my mess.
But maybe -- that is encouraging? Somehow? I'm not sure that I see how that's possible, only that I do appreciate reading a good oops-guess-I-got-it-wrong-this-time post because such an admission seems to give me permission to be not-perfect. So maybe . . . maybe you will walk away from this post with the reassurance that it's okay to be not-perfect, too?
Because really, if my plan had gone as I wanted, wouldn't this post be all about how awesome I am, about how glorious and majestic and fantastic I am? And that would be a lie. Because whatever awesomeness I have isn't mine -- it's His. So maybe, as much as the disappointment of this past week smarts, maybe this is the best way . . .
I have no answers. But I think that's okay.