Have you ever seen that child? You know. The one you told, "No you can't have that now" so they sit and sulk in a corner, because they're angry that don't haven't gotten their way. And later on, after dinner was done and it was time for the treat, and you were willing to give the child the blessed gift, they continue to sulk. They say, "No, I DON'T WANT it!" They'd rather decompose into a pile of sorrow, melt in their misery. All the while wishing they could happily reach out for the sweet gift you've offered but knowing, that if they wish to receive the gift they must first open up their hand full of bitterness to replace it with the love you've offered.
And here, just like that child, I sit, complaining and whining. I talk to God. Is He even listening? Why should He? Why would He, when all He hears is griping and grumbling.
"There must be blessing in this,Lord. I just don't see it," I stammer.
"You aren't looking for it. You don't want to see it, " He says.
He's right. He's always right.
I've been struggling under this load for almost a year. The weight I continue to carry makes me sick inside. I hate feeling this way. But I like it, too. Why? Why would someone want to feel sad, to grieve in their soul for so long? My relationships with others suffer because of it. My relationship with my husband suffers, my parents, my son. Most of all my Father. My Heavenly Father. He hates the way I feel more than I do.
And I think inside myself. Why do I hold on to this grief? There must be a reason. Am I just used to gripping it so tightly in the palm of my hand, Am I not willing to trust another human being for fear of what they'll 'take' from me? That's it.
I'm afraid of letting go of it.
If I let go, I'll lose control. And I like to be in control.
And I sob because I know this is wrong. And I wish to be free of this load. The burden grows heavier with each passing day. Once in awhile, I take it off. And I'll let someone else carry it for me. I'll share this load with another, but they can't take it forever. After an hour or two of conversation and tears, it's time to go home and I hoist the burden back onto my own shoulders and trudge on. I'll even let the Master bear my burden for awhile, but I always ask for it back.
He sweetly whispers in my ear, "Cast your care on Jesus today, Leave your worry and fear; Burdens are lifted at Calvary, Jesus is very near."
I shed a tear and place the burden on my own back again and say, "I know."
Somehow I feel like I'm not the only one, shedding tears. He doesn't want this for me. He wants me to be full of joy unspeakable and overflowing.
But how do I put this off for good? How do I get rid of this awful burden and not pick it up again?
I feel like I almost have to keep taking it off. One piece at a time. And each time I do it gets easier. Maybe it's like baby steps. The first few steps a babe takes are so difficult. He falls and it hurts and he hates to try for fear. Fear of losing control. But if he doesn't get up and try again, he'll never learn to walk, to run, to soar! The child would stop growing, stop learning, stop becoming.
I don't want to stop becoming. I want to be like my Father! I want to learn to walk like He walks, give like He gives, love like He loves.
And that's it. I must practice putting off my burden. Letting go. Losing control. And I don't like doing it, because I'm afraid of what might happen. I worry.
And Worry is a giant that must be killed.
So, Worry-free living must be practiced. When I am uncomfortable, I'll give it to God. And when my mind races with what might happen, I'll give it to God. And when I don't want to, but, I know I should, I'll give it to God.
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
I'm so thankful for my Church family and for the message Dr. Barber preached just last night on "Let's Go Giant Killing" - Ever get the feeling that maybe the Lord had someone preach a specific sermon and you were the only one in the audience that it was intended for? Ya. That was me. Last night.
Thank You, Lord, for Your messenger.