Today, I want to eat all the delicious foods. I am so hungry, you guys. I want rice. And lentils. And garlic. And cheese (goat cheese, cow cheese, I DON'T CARE, JUST GIVE ME CHEESE!). But when the lingering triggers show up and ignite physical challenges, it's harder to train with food. So today I am hungry and tired of limitations.
Jay and I have been praying every night before bed for my sleep. We ask God to make it calm and sweet, free of the PTSD dreams that make the next day so hard. Each morning, we ask him to restore my body completely — to make flare-ups a thing of the past, and to make eating easy, always. Sometimes God answers just exactly the way we want, and sometimes he doesn't.
I try to be honest with him when he doesn't — to raise my lament to the God Who Sees and Cares and delights in our honest heart-offerings. And then, at some point, I try to pivot and remember: this journey requires incredible patience on my part, but even more incredible patience on God's. Because he is using the sharp edges of every hardship as scalpels to do surgery on my heart-that-needs-healing.
The older I get, the more clearly I see the effect of my sin on my heart. My pride, jealousy, and unchecked fear lacerate and fissure my heart. Sin always maims good things. Sometimes my circumstances make my heart still more bloodied and deformed, and I know it needs deep, pervasive healing. But God is not antsy or frustrated with the work required to heal my heart. He is steadily and tenderly reaching in, again and again and again, to do the work of healing it.
It's the healing I want best of all: a heart that is whole and holy. And today I am remembering that this is healing worth waiting for.
© by scj