Held in the Valley
"The Son of God suffered unto death, not that men might not suffer, but that their sufferings might be like His." George MacDonald
Sometimes when I write, it's delayed.
I like to make sure I speak clearly, not simply reacting emotionally. My journal holds the scrambled thoughts; my blog holds the progress that comes afterwards. Giving myself this time helps me regroup, reflect, and search for the lesson before I turn the experience into a page for others to read.
And it just so happens that today's topic is near and dear to my heart. I feel like I write that in every entry, but this time I really mean it. Trust.
On my blog Instagram, I post polls asking what people want to read about. A few months ago, someone slid up and said, "Struggling in faith when bad things happen in life." I read it and felt a ping in my heart, but ended up steering in a different direction. Maybe it was because I was not ready to write about it yet.
Fast forward to today: I was rereading some old topic suggestions when I came across that response again, and I instantly knew what I needed to write about. It's an intimidating subject because it requires me to admit something I'm not proud of.
It's easy to make faith look glamorous. We see people posting about their spiritual growth, powerful testimonies, answered prayers, and the peace that lives in their souls around the clock. When people first encounter Christ, they may expect their journey to be all sunshine and rainbows. After all, that's typically what is shown.
What we fail to mention at times is the work that needs to be put into a relationship with God. It requires trust, surrender, and obedience. Even--actually--especially, at times when we are at a loss for what He is doing.
So, what happens when the peace disappears? What happens when that warm, fuzzy feeling of God's presence dwindles? What should we do then?
At the beginning of the year, my faith was being tested big time. And I would say I probably failed the test. Or at the very least, earned a solid D. Something had happened that made me so angry at God. I had never felt so angry at Him in my 22 years of being a Christian. Over the past two years, my relationship with Christ had grown so much. I became more open about Him and gravitated towards Him in every situation. So you can imagine the dismay when, suddenly, the relationship I treasured so deeply was the relationship I was pulling away from.
I was so angry. I refused to talk to anyone. I couldn't look at my Bible. I stopped praying, and when I did pray, it was always patronizing. By doing all this, it turned into self-loathing because although my flesh was acting out of character, my spirit was yearning for Christ.
It felt like a tug-of-war between what I felt and what I knew, and each side was pulling with all its might.
This went on for a month. Then one day, one of my close friends came over, and I confessed my anger and resentment towards God. Because she is Catholic too, she understood the weight of what I was feeling. She spoke words of Christ and gentleness over me. And even then, I didn't budge. Or at least, in the moment, I didn't.
But that night, I opened my Bible.
And the next morning, I prayed with a gentler approach.
And the night after that, I went over to the same friend's house where she lovingly, yet forcefully, made me watch a homily.
God reaches us in funny ways, right? I've always believed this. Well, when she turned on the television and typed the priest's name in. The first video on the suggested list began with the words, "Sometimes we feel like Leah-" and my friend and I just started rolling with laughter.
So what happens when you're struggling with faith when something bad happens?
Coming from someone who dealt with it earlier this year, I can relate to you and say it is the most unsettling feeling. I felt like a shell of myself. Because once you feel Christ's presence and witness His work in your life, you never want to be without it. And when you are without it, the emptiness is daunting.
My biggest piece of advice is to feel your emotions. Be angry. Be hurt. Be confused and frustrated. God is not frightened by your emotions, and your questions do not make you a bad Christian.
But as you work through this hard time, remember it wasn't God's intention for you to suffer. Pain entered my life, and instead of bringing it to God, I blamed Him for it. And the second I blamed Him, a wedge was created between us. I was convincing myself my pain was His doing, but in reality, He was the one waiting to carry me through it.
And since this is a delayed writing about what I experienced and I have had time to reflect, this is what I wish I had done, and what I would do next time if this recurs.
Breathe. Most of my feelings stemmed from my inability to calm my nervous system first. A lot of words and feelings would've been avoided if I had paused and taken a few deep breaths. You do not have to understand everything the moment it happens.
Be honest with God. I was honest, sure, but I was accusatory. There is nothing wrong with telling God you are angry; He already knows. However, let Him meet you in this emotion.
Get into the Word. When I opened my Bible for the first time in weeks, I was reminded of the peace I was yearning for. My situation had not changed when I cracked it open, but my heart softened.
Faith is not proven by never questioning God, never becoming angry, or never losing that spark. Faith is choosing to turn back toward Him, even after you spent weeks or months walking away from Him.
I condemned myself at the time for wandering away from Him; I felt stuck in the valley. And maybe that's how you're feeling right now. And I can assure you, the feeling won't last forever. Because sometimes the path to green pastures is straight through the valley. And the great news? God is with you the entire time.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Psalm 23:4
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