Faithful Paradox

I was at our small group a few weeks back and the question was asked, “How does your heart feel toward God?” The word that immediately came to mind for me was guarded. As I truly consider my heart, there is a guardedness within me. It’s not anger. It’s not really doubt. It’s not disbelief. I simply recognize there is a guardedness there; a desire for self-protection.

If I’m honest, I find I’m in a place that I feel cautious with God. If it’s possible to separate faith and feeling, I would say that I am in a place where I am certain that my faith is secure, but my feelings are cautious and guarded. I imagine it’s the ongoing process of rebuilding faith and hope after my heart was shattered.

I find most days it’s not hard to submit to God’s sovereignty. It’s not difficult to submit to his reign and rule. It’s not difficult to submit to his supremacy, dominion, and power. But learning once again to surrender to God’s kindness? Learning to trust his tenderness? That is a space that my heart is having to relearn all over again.

I recognize that God’s goodness is shown through his giving of Jesus. I recognize that his kindness is seen in his faithfulness, his mercy, and his grace. I recognize these things and know that my circumstances are not the definition of his kindness and goodness. These are all theological truths I affirm and believe. At the same time, were I to sit down and make a list, I imagine I could easily come up with a thousand ways God has been good and kind to me. Beyond that, there are likely 10,000 other kindnesses from God that I have not yet acknowledged or understood. Yet somehow, after losing my son, the road from my head to my heart seems to be laden with roadblocks and detours that make surrendering to God’s kindness difficult. Despite having seen so much kindness from God, the disappointment of not seeing the kindness I longed to see in his healing Ezra here on earth has caused my heart to shrink back.

As one who feels things deeply, as one who processes through a lens of emotion and must remind myself that my feelings cannot be the rudder that guides me, learning to truly surrender my feelings once again is scary. It’s as if I think that if I hold back a piece of my heart and protect it, when more pain comes, it will not hurt quite so badly.

Even as I write that, I recognize the lunacy of it. I find once again that I know theologically that the safest place for my heart is fully in the hands of God, yet somehow, I am resistant to wholly embrace this. I can relate with Paul’s words, “I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out” (Romans 7:18). I have the desire to feel what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.

I’m grateful that the Lord is patient. He doesn’t reach a point of snapping or giving up. He knows that I am but dust and doesn’t disdain me as I wrestle. I’m also grateful to know that he holds my faith. This struggle is not a faith crisis. It simply exposes more layers that God is working to redeem; layers I didn’t know needed redeeming. The thing about suffering is that it exposes all the wrongly held beliefs and theologies that we didn’t even know existed. It brings our misconceptions of God to the light, which ultimately is a piece of God’s severe, yet tender mercy.

In many ways, as these beliefs are exposed, it feels like more pain, more loss. It feels like insult to injury. Yet simultaneously, I know it is more of God’s kindness; even if that kindness doesn’t always feel good. It requires a surrendering to kindness and that feels scary. I know, however, it’s a piece of redirection and reforming of my faith that is being built on a more solid foundation and for this, I am thankful.