Life’s been hard lately. That’s ironic because exactly two weeks ago I wrote in my journal about how content I am with life. I used words like hopeful and happiness and freedom, and then a few short hours later, things started to unravel.
I would not use the words hopeful, happiness, and freedom to describe my second half of April. Instead, words like angry, empty, and hurt come to mind.
Normally when I have a bad day or something happens to get me down, I go to my happy place and remind myself of the facts—I am loved. I am a child of God. I am complete. That usually works. Most bad days can’t shake the facts. The facts surpass those measly trials. And, I suppose, the facts should exceed the big stuff too, but it gets harder when I start blaming God or accusing him of not holding up his side of things. And that’s the road I’ve traveled these last two weeks.
He was patient with me. I would say, “Why don’t you care?” And he would reply, “What makes you think I don’t?” I would accuse him of not fixing things, and he would point out how he’s working in the details. I would say nothing, and he would not let me go.
And he didn’t. He didn’t let me go. He didn’t let me run away and pretend about any of it. Instead, he walked me through it, and I got burned, but I didn’t get beat.
My problems didn’t get fixed, and my heart is still hurting, but it’s all real. It’s life. It hurts, and it’s hard, and sometimes you do the right thing and don’t come out on top. Sometimes you trust others, and they let you down hard. And that is reality.
But it’s not all of reality. There’s more.
There is more.
God is real. And I tell you this from the middle of adversity, not because he made it all better, but because he is enough. He’s not our genie or our buddy. He’s more.
Maybe there are some things about God we can only see through the lens of hardship. And I would love to be able share some of that with you, but I don’t have the words. All I can tell you is that ignoring our problems, avoiding them, hiding from them, refusing to deal with them is not living in reality. It’s taking the blue pill and agreeing to live in a lie.
I don’t want to live a lie, and that will mean that life is going to hurt, and I won’t be hopeful all the time and my happy place won’t always cut it, but at least it’s real.
God is real.
I know this, not because he fixed it all, but because he loved me fiercely through it.
There is more. The trials are not the end.