These obsessive thoughts haunt me. Worries of things that haven’t even happened yet, fears of the unknown looming. It’s that controlling part of me I try to nail to the cross everyday; that part of me that’s afraid to hurt again, so instead I hurt before it begins. It’s illogical and kind of crazy. I admit it… I am being ridiculous.
I try to think of ways I’d advise a friend on what to do right now… “Trust God and let it go…” Easier said than done. “You have seen God fight your battles before. He’s fighting this one too.” But somehow I find myself overthinking yet again, wanting to know how to prepare my heart for the next painful truth. It’s as though my self-control is broken, but only because I love too hard, too much.
I bend over backwards to see people smile. I cry for them, pray for them, and spend so much energy hoping the best for them. I have the answer, though the way I’m acting it sure doesn’t look like it. Jesus is enough, I know, but it’s as though I don’t even trust Him. I am impatient, controlling, and struggle to listen. They say to me, “let them go, they don’t deserve you…” and I think to myself a rebuttal, without hesitation, “and I don’t deserve Jesus, but He’s still here…”
It’s here in this moment, as these words hit my heart, that I realize I’m not Jesus. I’m not perfect. I want to be. I try to be. I fail daily and I hate it. I want so badly to be a good daughter to the King, to love Him with my whole heart. I want so badly to do the right thing, to love without worry. But we are living in this broken place as broken people who end up hurt and then turn to hurt others. Worry is basically my middle name.
I’d always loved Paul’s honest vulnerability. He calls himself the worst of all sinners, a wretched man. He is a man who boasts in his weaknesses to showcase the strength and glory of God. He never says that he is perfect, but he praises God consistently for His great mercy. If it weren’t for Jesus, we’d be damned. Without Jesus, we’re just lost causes. But God loved us so much, even in our mess, that Jesus was a gift — a gift we couldn’t earn or deserve.
So, why do I carry these burdens? Why do I worry so much? Why does it hurt me to think so many people will never truly know the love God has for us? I keep telling myself, what God allows, I allow. I keep soldiering up and letting my heart hurt, facing the hard truth that there’s nothing I can do. They may not deserve this kind of love, but neither do I.
I’ve seen too many testimonies of God whisking His kids out of their darkness. I’ve watched so many lives change that I can’t deny that there is always hope. I cling to hope fervently, praying with this shameless persistence that begs the Lord to open the door. If I keep knocking, eventually they’ll see. If I keep praying, God will hear me.
We are considered the misfits of the world, the ones who never had a chance. God uses us weird ones. He values us because in us the glory of God shines brightly through us, not because anything about us is so awesome, but because we’re often such a mess that it must be God in us. There’s no way this silly girl could have turned her life around on her own. There’s no way she’d decide to live when she so willfully wished for death for so long. But here she is, surrendering her life for a just cause, for Jesus, and she chooses life for Him.
How could a girl who hated religion choose Jesus? How could she decide to believe in God when everything inside her said He was nothing more than a glorified imaginary friend? How could her wounds that had been open and bleeding for almost 30 years suddenly be ready to heal? I always related to the woman at the well, but in this moment, I find myself like the woman who’d been bleeding for many years and just needed to touch the hem of His garment. If I could just get a piece of Jesus, it would be enough. My bleeding heart just needs a little bit of Jesus.
All this to say that I don’t have all the answers. I’m not in control. I make mistakes and tumble to the ground with a sob-filled repentance. I’ve put people before Him and that makes no sense. Only He has what it takes to heal my heart. Lately, this season of my life has pushed me into the heart of Him that never fails. It’s not always pain-free, in fact, the stinging pain is nearly unbearable. But… As soon as I am ready to fall apart and quit, He says, “don’t worry, I’ll never give you more than you can handle…”
❤️🙏🏼


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