When I was leaving home after lunch yesterday, I felt this heavy cloud start to fall over me. All of a sudden, it was a terriblehorriblenogoodverybad day. I was suddenly frustrated, angry, weepy, irritable and exhausted.
Nothing had happened, unless you count a year’s worth of hormone therapy.
Charlie was encouraging, compassionate, and kind. He listened to how I felt, pointing me to the Lord’s peace and love. He’s been wonderful at staying steady and strong over this past year when I’m often on a yo-yo.
However, I always resist him for the first 10 or 15 minutes. I don’t want to be encouraged. I don’t want to see that this will pass and everything is really fine.
I want to hold on to this negativity and wallow for a few minutes before I can let his encouragement seep in. It’s silly, but it’s always how it goes.
This morning, I realized this need to wallow before accepting help is a human tendency that bleeds over into our relationship with God.
The scripture I read this morning talked of God turning our mourning into dancing and exchanging our sorrow for joy. I thanked Him for taking our afflictions from us and giving us their opposite instead — His peace, His love, His strength, etc.
Then He said, “I want you to be quick to accept the good things I give you! Don’t be defensive of your wounds — let me near to them so I can help.”
When a child scrapes her knee, her parent sits her down to clean and bandage it. But doesn’t the child often pull away, knowing what is meant to help will overwhelm the wound at first and maybe hurt as the dirt is removed? She pulls back, defensive of her hurting place, not yet ready to expose it.
I think we do the same with God. There are areas of our hearts that hurt, but sometimes we hold on to them for a little while before letting Him help. We’re not quite ready for Him to overwhelm us, cleaning out our affliction and bringing His relief. We’re afraid of exposing the wound, even if it means healing.
There are many ways God is blessing us right now. Yet, my emotions often feel like they’re on a runaway train. My prayer is to be more immediately willing to expose the chaos to God’s peace. I don’t want to wallow as I try to grin and bear it. I want to immediately say, “I don’t know what’s happening today, but it hurts and I can’t manage it! Please come wash it away!”