Shattered…
Tonight was a tough night. No getting around it. I’ve had some things rolling around in the back of my head for a while, and my spirit has increasingly rotated between feeling battered and uplifted. Before me towers a mountain that, like Hurnard’s Much-Afraid, I tremble at the thought of scaling. How can I, alone and so small, attain such a lofty goal? Worse yet, if I do get over this mountain…how many more will lie in my path forward? I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough experience with mountain ranges to know that those beautiful snow-capped peaks do not come in single units!
A few weeks ago I started going to a church that has a group ‘for single people my age.’ (Never did I believe that my mouth would utter such a statement….) Things have been going well. I love the church. I love the people. Involvement has been encouraging on many levels. I’m developing friendships with Christian people who understand the positives and negatives of being a single adult Christian. Life is great! Right?
Last year ushered into my life more questions than answers, in many ways, and the future looks about like the weather outside this week: bleak, stormy, and drowning everything not under a shelter. I don’t know what direction to walk, and being single (while great in many ways) makes that a bit harder because I have the freedom (‘freedom’) to do, well, anything. Choosing from a couple things is a lot easier than choosing from ANYthing, I assure you!
During prayer time at the Bible study last week, I shared a request for direction for my life. After the study, I was sharing with a woman a little bit more about my life, contextualizing my prayer request. She suggested to me that I may just be the person who “keeps a home going” so that my family has a place when they come home for visits. Her comment, right or wrong, struck a deep wound in my heart. The one thing I have iterated repeatedly over the last year or two is that I’m tired: tired of being alone, tired of taking care of people, tired of being ‘the responsible one.’
To compound the turmoil that comment stirred up, tonight I spent 4 hours on the phone with 3 different friends, back to back, each with different hurts, insights, and questions about marriage/relationships. I had 20 minutes between the end of my work day and the first phone call. I had no expectation of receiving these calls, and I certainly felt unprepared for each conversation. The first was a good friend who went through multiple Scriptures, discussing intently the purpose of humanity, the meaning of Christianity, and the place of singleness/marriage in a person’s life. Though we agreed on much, I felt a bit beat down internally.
Already exhausted from that 2 hour conversation, I set the phone on the charger, walked to my couch, turned on a t.v. program, and heard my phone ring. This time the call was from a married friend going through their own unique issues. My emotional reservoir was essentially dried up, yet my love for my friend drove me to patiently listen to the hurts and needs. We do not share spiritual values, nor is the friend interested in hearing about the Bible at this time. Thus, the conversation consisted of me listening to the broken heart of a person I love, knowing that only one answer will ever be able to heal the pain- and sin-ravaged soul, yet realizing that this friend rejects the answer at this time. While struggling to balance this conversation, I heard my phone beep twice, signaling that I had received texts from someone. I checked the sender after hanging up, and I almost cried: the texts were from a friend about…you guessed it!...’relationship stuff.’ In no way could I ignore this friend any more than I could the previous. She needed an ear – and she needed feedback. I still say I’m not the most experienced relationship advice person…but I guess by the time one spends 15 years listening to friends and relatives talk about relationships, there must be at least some wisdom hiding in one’s head!!
When the last call ended, I felt completely used up. In fact, I made a phone call of my own. Not my proudest moment considering the voice mail I left my friend ended with about 15 seconds of me sobbing, “I’m tired of taking care of everyone. I need taken care of, too!”
It’s my turn!
That’s how I feel. In short, I just want somebody to take care of me for a change. Yet for some reason, despite having reached a breaking point this year, I see little to no reprieve. In fact, life has simply gotten more difficult: my grandpa’s dementia steadily worsens, the emotional/mental tax on my grandma causes her to tell me the same 3 stories every day, I fight with my sister, my finances go haywire with unexpected bills, I end up working for the same job I had quit 2 years ago to get a Master’s degree…. And I deal with these things even more “alone” than before. I keep mentally reminding God that He said He won’t give more than we can bear, and I’ve explained a couple times that I’ve borne enough.
I’ve come to the place where ordinary tasks at times turn me into a sobbing goon. Here’s an example. A few months ago I had to replace a tail light on my truck. Unable to pull the plastic light guard off, I resorted to putting Kleenex between my mini Leatherman and the paint, and managed to pry the guard off. It took 2 days of trying, but I fixed the tail light! Or how about moving the furniture in my house? I had some heavy pieces that needed moved from one room to another. The furniture was too large and cumbersome to pick up. I actually tried to prop a roll-top desk on my back…which obviously didn’t work out too well. Again, I was able to strategically solve the problem by wiggling a sheet underneath some of the furniture, and with other furniture by simply running back & forth scooting each side a few inches at a time. I remember I spent over an hour moving a couple pieces of furniture that a man could’ve moved in 10 minutes.
In so many ways, I feel like I’ve ‘paid my dues.’ (I’m throwing more clichés into this posting than cats in a crazy lady’s barrel!) I’ve learned how to be very independent and self-sufficient. I’ve traversed a difficult spiritual journey that has brought me to a place wherein I am resolved upon faith in God’s sovereignty and a desire to know Him above all. As far as those around me, I take care of people all the time. I’m here for family and friends whenever they need, in whatever capacity I can fill. I can’t not help people I love. If I see a friend in need, my insides compel me to help them. I truly care about the people around me. I was good at school throughout my AS, BA, and MA studies because I cared so deeply about humanity.
I’ve seen that begin to change lately, though. I’ve seen a deadening to others. And it scares me. The deadening, the pulling away, is beginning with family. I feel like I’m the grandkid who is first to be asked for favors, and the first to see and respond to needs. I’m tired of living next to family – I feel trapped, stifled, suffocated. I don’t want to be the daughter who the parents go to for favors. I don’t want to be the sister that the sibling seeks out to talk through things with.
…But not Destroyed
Thankfully, I have learned to laugh at myself quite a bit. I’ve had to simply because I do so many stupid things, and so often. Tonight has not been a night of laughing, particularly, but I did chuckle about my sobbing voice mail. It’s funny how strong I think I am, and then how easily small, compounded things can make me crumble.
God has not allowed me to be destroyed. Nor will He allow my character and the gifts He gave me to be destroyed. And I don’t want to become the selfish person who withholds. I don’t want to be the angry person whose heart freezes to an unloving and unlovable state of existence. I don’t want to quit reading because the pain in this world is so insurmountable. I don’t want to quit being the friend who can love those around me at all times. I don’t want to become the daughter, sister, granddaughter who resents being dependable.
I’ve found in my life that “good seasons” are almost immediately challenged by doubt, fear, insecurity, and, above all, hopelessness. First Samuel tells the story of Hannah, a barren wife whose heart yearned for a child. Hannah offers great inspiration for many women, regardless of the object of each woman’s yearning. Tonight, though, the story became more of a conviction for me. How often do I read the story and focus on God answering Hannah’s prayer? The rest of the time I focus on how hard it must have been for Hannah to give back to the Lord what He had granted to her. Yeah, I notice that she prayed faithfully, but I don’t focus on the cause for God’s answer.
Tonight I sense God imprinting on my heart and mind some very significant facts in I Sam 1:7, 10-16: “And it happened year after year, as often as [Hannah] went up to the house of the Lord, [Peninnah] would provoke her, so [Hannah] wept and would not eat. And she, greatly distressed, prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly. And she made a vow and said, ‘O Lord of hosts, if Thou wilt indeed look on the affliction of Thy maidservant and remember me, and not forget Thy maidservant….’” Hannah “continued praying before the Lord…speaking in her heart, only her lips were moving, but her voice was not heard.” She explained to Eli that she was “’a woman oppressed in spirit’” who “’poured out [her] soul before the Lord.’” She asked Eli to “’not consider your maidservant as a worthless woman’” because she “’[had] spoken…out of [her] great concern and provocation.’”
Hannah’s pain was continuous. I bet she dreaded the yearly trip to Shiloh. Surely by year 3 she knew what to expect from her husband’s second wife. At home she undoubtedly incurred the spurious glances of neighbors, each judgment increasing in intensity with each birth of Peninnah’s children. Hannah was a normal woman who experienced a physiological response to the emotional cruelty (she “wept and would not eat”). Her husband couldn’t fix the problem. The religious leader thought she was an irreverent sinner in the temple. Misunderstood by everyone, wracked by emotional pain incomprehensible to anyone around, Hannah turned to her God in “great distress.” She both “prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly.” She asked Him to “look on the affliction of [His] maidservant” and vowed to honor God by giving back to Him what He gave to her.
A New Testament story reflects Hannah’s in its essence. My first phone call tonight included discussion of Luke 10:38-42. “Now as they were traveling along, He entered a certain village; and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home. And she had a sister called Mary, who moreover was listening to the Lord’s word, seated at His feet. But Martha was distracted with all her preparations; and she came up to Him, and said, ‘Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to do all the serving alone? Then tell her to help me.’ But the Lord answered and said to her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things; but only a few things are necessary, really only one, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her.’”
My friend emphasized tonight Jesus’ reference to one thing being necessary: being seated at the feet of Christ. He took me to several other places in the Scriptures that reference ‘one thing’ being necessary, good, correct for us to hold as critical in our lives. The ‘one thing’ consistently referenced a heart seeking after God – ‘being at Jesus’ feet.’ The context of our conversation was whether or not…or at what point, rather…a Christian’s desire for marriage, or children, or money, or a different job, and so on, becomes an idol. The overarching theme encompassed in the phrase is simple: there is one perfect place for us to live, and that is at Christ’s feet. The root of frustration, the cause of hopelessness and despair, the reason for feeling alone and lost, stems from separating ourselves from our Savior and seeking to live for our own goals in our own power.
As I re-read this passage in light of what I’ve been meditating on lately, especially over the last week, regarding Hannah’s story, I am convinced that I must act upon the conviction in my heart to devote time each day to seeking God’s face. Not only each day, but to set aside a time (at whatever interval I feel God leading) devoted to crying out to God for His answers. For now, my heart’s cry begs direction. I realized that I have not been praying because I have allowed myself to become convinced again of God’s silence in my life: God won’t listen, won’t answer, won’t care, won’t won’t won’t. But the God of the Scriptures will, and therefore I must, like Hannah and Mary, go to the temple, bow my heart and soul in prayer and fasting – and even in weeping if necessary – and persistently wait to hear the Savior’s voice speak.
I insist that there are two types of loneliness a human can feel: there is being alone, and being lonely. If I continue trying to serve people I love in my own strength, then I am alone. If I wake up each day and ignore the opportunity to walk with God throughout my day, then I am alone. But if I seek God first, glorify Him only in my life, then alone I am not, nor ever will be. And even in times of loneliness where human companionship is the blessing I crave, I am not alone. God of the Bible – of Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Hannah, Ruth, David, Esther... – this God hears the cries of His people, and He answers. Sometimes with a yes, sometimes a no, and other times, like with Hannah, season after season of weeping and yearning will pass with a silent response from Jehovah.
God will give direction to my steps. Accepting the salvation He freely offers makes me His handmaiden, and as such my purpose is to glorify God in my life, love my neighbor as myself, and reach out to the brokenhearted. Loving others and being a good friend are good things, but in my own power they become idols. I seek to accomplish the goal for the goal’s sake, or for my love for the person, rather than as a natural outpouring of my relationship with God. Better it is to rest in the Shelter excitedly proffered by a loving God anxious to spend a few moments with the daughter He purchased at the devastating cost of His Son’s innocent life. Through a right position of my heart, I can minister to my family and friends joyfully, receiving the power and strength to use the gifts God gave me from my communion with Him. And as to those decisions and purpose questions,
“I will cry to God Most High, to God who accomplishes all things for me.” (Psalm 57:2)
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