Oh God, oh my God, will you save me?

Still Fighting, Still Healing

It's been two and a half months. Part of me feels like it's only been a few days; another part is overwhelmed by how slowly it's come along, with the second hand ticking far too slowly, mocking me. When you're hurting, you wish you could fast forward, not necessarily to a different time, but to a different feeling.

This has been the most difficult and trying time in my life, and I don't say that lightly, because I vividly remember times of loss I've come through. I remember in seventh grade when I broke up with a guy and he attempted suicide and blamed it on me. I remember when my boyfriend was ripped away overnight my freshman year, gone for eighteen months in a correctional boarding school with no communication. I remember the nagging uncertainty and disappointment I felt throughout that time, the pain I felt from being lied to and deceived, and also from a lack of closure. I remember how long it hurt. I remember my parent's divorce and all that it entailed, the way it made me question everything. I remember senior year when my boyfriend of a year and a half said, "I don't want to do this anymore." I remember the nights I cried and begged him to change his mind. I remember literally not getting out of bed except for school for an entire month, the way my life was on hold.

I am not new to grief. I know that things hurt for a while and that healing comes. The reason this time in my life has been the most difficult is not necessarily because it hurts more that all the times before, but because of the way I've responded to that pain. Before, I didn't know how to deal with pain. Sometimes I just sat in it, sometimes I fought it by struggling to change my circumstances back to "normal," sometimes I slept through it. This time, I have done something very different, something much better, but significantly more difficult. I've faced my pain, surrendered it to God, and I've sought the Lord with every fiber of my being, every day for two and a half months.

Shouldn't I be saying how comforting the love of God is, how this is exactly what I should have done from the beginning, how amazed I am by the healing work of God? The thing is, all of those things are true, but I have never in my life experienced the enemy so strongly. The struggle and the battle I have had going on in me these past few months is what has made this time so trying, so exhausting, so unbelievably difficult. Not only have I had to deal with grief, which is very real and very heavy, I've had to deal daily with the persistent attacks of Satan, trying to prevent me from continuing on. You see, when you're hurting, and you don't really seek God besides reading a few Bible verses from time to time, you don't get much opposition from Satan, because you're not much of a threat. But a suffering Christian who seeks to deny themselves every day, who wakes up to worship God for His greatness despite immense pain, who prays earnestly and pours over the Word... this Christian is an incredible threat to the enemy.

I've never experienced this kind of attack before. I am hurting and grieving, still mourning the loss and disappointment, and on top of that, I have a powerful enemy throwing challenge over challenge my way. There is a very significant difference between this time and the times of pain I have experienced before. Never before have I had to deal with so many other things in addition to my grief. The second you overcome one obstacle, another is thrown at you, often larger than the one before. I've faced things I never dreamed of having to deal with -- feelings of incredible guilt, raging anger, terrible unforgiveness, hopelessness, loneliness, unbelievable fear and anxiety, crippling doubt, a heavy absence of peace, and so many other things. These things rise up, and I know they are not of me. They scream at me to abandon my pursuit of God, to take the situation into my own hands; they scream at me to pursue pleasure and to worship idols; they tell me I will never heal and that I will be alone forever. They tell me my best days have come and gone. Seriously, that is how I feel. Almost every single day. The devil does not take breaks, nor does he grow tired.

Here's the thing, though. And this is incredibly significant.

These past two and a half months have also been the best months of my life. And I want to cry when I type that, because my emotions are absolutely saying that is not true at all. Nothing about this time has felt good. In number, the moments of peace are nothing compared to the moments of pain. The depth of my sorrow is so great, penetrating into the most sensitive parts of my heart. But I am learning not to assess my life purely on emotion. My feelings are deceptive, and my emotions are undoubtedly Satan's strongest weapon against me. Despite the way I have felt, these past few months have been rich. I have never had closer fellowship with my Creator. In fact, I am thankful for this pain, for the way it has pushed me to study the Word, memorize the Word, preach and claim the Word. The truth of God's character has taken deep root in my being, because I have believed it despite the draw to believe what my emotions tell me instead. I have never worshiped so passionately before. I have never prayed so fervently. There are nights I cry literally for hours, overwhelmed by my emotions and my desire to go back in time to three months ago, before the change. But every night when that happens, I draw myself up, turn on the light, and I read the truth from over fifty post it notes on my wall, and I urge myself, like David, "For my God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him, my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God. Trust at him in all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us" (Psalm 62:5-8).

This past Sunday night, I was feeling very discouraged, wondering why I was still hurting after such dedication to appropriate healing and constant submission and trust in God. I went to church, and during worship I came close to breaking down. But a woman walked up front and started praying, and her words resinated in me so powerfully. She said, "God, I feel there is someone here who is burdened, wondering why heaviness is lingering for so long, wanting to be relieved but not finding relief. God, thank you for the pain, and help anyone dealing with this know the purpose of the pain is to prepare them for something greater, whatever that may be." She kept praying for a moment after that, but I didn't really hear anything else, because that spoke straight to me. I don't know what exactly God is preparing me for, but I am believing it will come to pass exactly as He intends for it to.

These days are still a struggle. I am not done fighting and not done healing. When I admit that, I gain freedom from trying to impress everyone with how much I have it all together, because I totally don't.

But I am learning. I am being made new. And it hurts, terribly, but I know in time, peace will come, understanding will come, and healing will be complete. Until then, I continue to believe and seek the truth. God is good, and He is doing a great thing in me.