And know I am God. (Psalm 46:10)
The stilling is first. Then the knowing.
From my journal…
It is tiresome trying to hold onto a promise that never happens…but hurts you, and this just hurts.
Last night I was reading Genesis 13-15, and God made a monster promise to Abram. “Children numbering more than the stars.”
I cannot imagine how hard that was. He and Sarai wanted a baby so badly. It must have been the most raw and painful part of his heart, and God laid it wide open.
Then they waited.
I’m not sure how long went by before the second visit, but surely he and Sarai thought of that baby every single day. Their heart ached every single day. Every month when she wasn’t pregnant must have been a new death. To see Hagar pregnant and to see her belly getting large with the baby she could not give her husband…I cannot imagine the crushing pain Sarai felt.
To see women rejoicing with Hagar, to know another woman could give her husband what she wanted to give him more than anything but couldn’t, I cannot imagine how that attacked her mentally or shredded her emotionally.
And the promise still didn’t come.
I understand to a point, maybe more than I realized before now.
I was given two plainly stated promises years ago, before the collapse and during, and I am still waiting.
I have watched friends live the promises I was given. I have watched them be blessed and flourish, give birth, if you will, and rejoice.
And I am still waiting.
And I ache. Beyond words, I ache, and the only answer I have is to do other things to keep me busy while I am waiting, and it is hurtful when even those doors slam shut. It feels like I’m being told to sit here and just hurt. Logically, I know God has a plan and each closed door is just a redirect from something I would hate. Emotionally, though, it is torturous.
How did Sarah get through that? At least she had a husband to tell her he loved her as she was. Of course, she would tell me at least I have children to raise.
How does one make a heart not want something?
There are days I wish God had not made those promises. Maybe I wouldn’t wake up each day and wonder if it were finally Christmas. But obviously, at that moment, I needed the promise. At that moment, I needed hope.
And I know none of the Lord’s words ever return void. Maybe when everything was collapsing around me, I need a foundation that couldn’t collapse.
But what happens when what is meant to bring hope only inflicts pain? What happens when the promise holds more pain than you can see power? How does one make the pain stop?
I don’t know.
All I know is I’m called to be still. When I still my heart and my mind, when I still the emotions running wild, and refuse to look at what has happened or even what has that makes this whole promise so completely unlikely at this point, when I still the chaos, I know.
He is God.
Does it make the pain go away? For me, no. But it keeps the promise before me, and He keeps my hope alive.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him,
so that you will be filled with hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.
Be still. Know that I am God. And hope.