Please allow me to preface this by saying I am continually blessed by the people of my church. Here I have had the opportunity to experience compassion and witness a love for God and His children like I have never seen in this world. I look forward to worship. I need worship. By the time I get to church on Sunday morning, I feel wiped out. Depleted. I feel like I am running on fumes. So I look forward to being able to recharge in the presence of the Almighty King and His saints here on earth.
However…yes, there’s always a “but.”
However, lately I have been struggling. As many of you know, I had some job opportunities pop up and vanish, leaving me in a tight spot. While I am currently working, I feel like the words “scraping by” and “barely” and “past due” are going to be stuck in my vocabulary for the foreseeable future. Frankly. I have never enjoyed the financial management skills to prepare me for a loss of a job.
With that in mind, as much as I love worship and the people I share it with on Sundays, I almost dread going to church. Those who know me know that I absolutely hate feeling helpless. The only thing I despise more than feeling helpless is feeling pitied. I almost dread going to worship because I know, after the service, some incredible, caring individual; someone I consider a friend will come up and ask me how I’m doing. Immediately, my brain searches for that mute button. I want to say,”I’m pissed off,” “I’m tired of struggling,” “I really don’t see what God is doing here,” “I wonder if HE is even listening to me.” All of these things cross my mind and it feels almost as though it takes physical effort to hold them back, Instead of being truly and completely honest, out comes “I’m getting by,” “Doing well, it’s great to see you!” “I’m still struggling, but I KNOW God will provide,” or some other cliche. As much as I desperately want to believe that, as much as I desperately know I NEED to believe that, I wonder if I truly do. As I sit here typing this, tears are welling up at the thought that my faith is so weak that it falters in the presence of what many would see as a minor inconvenience. And I am ashamed. I have traveled to countries where people go without running water. I have seen countries devastated by natural disaster. I have heard stories of people being killed for no other reason than their government didn’t approve of what they had to say. I’ve seen people recently didn’t just lose their job, but watched as a hurricane simply wiped their business off the map. In the broad scheme of life, my trials are so small and insignificant, but they feel so big and insurmountable.
Friends, I need prayer. I don’t care about the job. I’ll find another one. In the end, all earthly treasure will decay. This is hard for me. I hate feeling so helpless and broken. I hate having to mentally prepare myself to speak to absolutely well-meaning, loving people I consider friends. I hate being distracted in worship thinking about how to maneuver through the church lobby without being stopped for small talk. I hate hearing Satan saying “He doesn’t listen to your prayers.” I hate that “hate” comes up so many times in what surges through my mind during worship. So, please, pray for me. I need to see God’s light back in my life. I know He’s there. I know I’m saved. I know all of what He has done for me. I just feel like all of that knowledge has migrated from my heart into my head, I guess.
Thank you so much to all of you who go out of your way to check on me. I apologize if I come off terse or like I just want to escape the conversation, I’m truly scared on dumping all of this on people. I’ve always had to be the strong one. I hope y’all understand.