Most days, faith is easy. Most days, my heart is strong in belief that total healing will be mine. Some days, like yesterday, faith feels heavy. It felt like a scab I had to pick at, or a puzzle piece that would not fit into the puzzle of my life. Tears fell on sofa, bed, loveseat and dining room table. I felt like I could not cry enough to ease the burden. It was a day I felt I had to help God, and I knew I was just too tired to help Him. Two years of waiting has made me tired. Help God. Yeah. That's how much of a meltdown there was at our house yesterday. My best friend Susan reminded me that if we could do it (whatever "it" is for all of us......healing, salvation, peace, restoration.....) ourselves, we would not need a Savior. He doesn't want or need my help. I've known that for 2 years, but yesterday, the devil convinced me I wasn't doing my part.
Susan reminded me that the only thing I needed to do was to rest with confidence that God has no condemnation for the wavering moments. And then Richie. My sweet husband, who absorbed all of the tears and spoke truth to my searching heart. He reminded me that a day of tears is OK. He reminded me that my only job is to abide in Christ....that in abiding is where the fruit is. He reminded me that my faith and my trust really ARE strong, even if a day of floundering pops up. He read healing Scriptures to me as I blubbered. He reminded me how much healing I have experienced so far. He read to me out of our healing Bible study....truths that I know I know. He was my tear-catcher yesterday. I hope he knows that I would not be alive today if not for him and his faith.
On my own, all I could hear yesterday were the insidious lies that the enemy wanted me to believe. I heard tiredness and guilt and impatience. I heard whispers that I should "do better," but then my husband walked on the scene, and all I could hear were the footfalls of grace.