“Bone-tired,” she said. “I sense a deep, deep tiredness.” The spiritual director told me during a four-day retreat.
Although I had been sick this year more than ever, it wasn’t
just physical tiredness. Although my mental health was nose-diving, it wasn’t just emotional strain. It was deeper. That place beyond,
a spiritual fatigue I didn’t want to admit. But I was in grave need of that
soul-deep rest. My bone-tired body needed restoration of the Gospel. What IS
the good news? Had I forgotten? I didn’t think so. But to have good news, we
first need to acknowledge the bad news. What was my bad news I had been trying
to avoid? That I can’t save them. I can’t prevent them from pain, suffering, or
making choices that will lead to slavery. That I can be good, but never “good
enough.” That I can’t fill that hole or fix that space in people’s lives or
even my own heart. That no matter how hard I work, there will still always be
work to do. And I cannot do it on my own.
I don’t doubt the Lord’s love, power, sovereignty; I trust Him completely. I’ve seen Him do miracles and I know He’ll do them again. I watch as He welcomes back the prodigals and celebrates them and I rejoice, too! After all, they are also my children, too. I cry and weep for joy, I thank God. But at the end of the day, when the lights are out and darkness settles in, and the house is quiet except for the hum of solar batteries or my noisy fridge, and I go into my bedroom and find a scorpion on the floor, or a cockroach, or I leave my bathroom light on because even though I’m a grown woman, sometimes I’m still scared…My tears turn inward, from sorrow and a deep yearning, not from joy. From a deep cry of wanting the fattened calf slaughtered for me, too. I start to tailspin. God, when will you do something for me personally? Who will you send to take care of me? When I am weary, scared, weak, sick? Who will carry this burden with me? Why do you send me out among the wolves, to do battle for you while I’m just as important as the prodigals, too?
(And He says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” -2 Cor 12:9)
My spiritual fatigue had twisted the Gospel. I saw God not
as a loving Father or best friend, but as an army commander, giving me
instructions that I obey because I love Him. (You see that shift? The hidden
pride and misinterpreted Gospel? I love God, not that He loves
me.) Someone asked me, “Are you sure that’s
God you’re hearing/obeying? Are you sure it’s God giving you those commands?”
Or is it my own demands masked as God, or worst yet Satan, the wolf in lamb’s
clothing, making God look like a sheep in wolf’s clothing?
This ministry is not just to work but to enjoy. In my fear
of not being cared for, I got swept away by anxiety. But when has God ever
failed me yet? Has there ever been a time I was sick and not cared for? Sad and
not comforted by a hug or even a kind comment from a stranger? Struggling and
not prayed for? Frustrated and not encouraged, by random donations or words of
encouragement? I mean, honestly, there has never been a time in my entire life
where I was left unaided. [A recent story: A woman I don’t know donated on our
website and left a note saying she was praying for us and my name came
specifically. As she prayed for me, she felt God tell her He wants to give me a
book. She thought maybe there was a book I really wanted but wasn’t able to
buy, so she then donated money but sent, “God wants to give you a book!” What
she didn’t know is that I’d been so discouraged in finishing my second book,
that I was giving up. I was worried about what people are gonna think, it’s not
perfect yet, maybe it’s just for me and I don’t need to publish it, etc. And
then here God is, across an ocean, encouraging me through a complete stranger
to finish my book, that it’s HIS desire to give it to me.]
No, we are not given escapes from pain and suffering – no matter
how “good” you are, no one can earn their way out of pain. But we are given
graces for EVERY SINGLE MOMENT we face, that we may not only endure it, but
that we may be transformed through it or aid others in their own transformation
journeys, too.
Sometimes, it feels easier being the prodigal, wandering off
but coming back home, knowing the Father will never reject you – rather than
the one that stayed. Maybe the Gospel seems easier to comprehend that way. Maybe
the prodigal’s brother didn’t understand the gospel like his lost-and-found
brother. Sometimes it’s easier to forget the Father’s love when you’re the one
who stayed. Because sometimes staying is boring or monotonous. And then we
forget…the entire Gospel. We forget not just who we are or what we already
have, but we forget Whose we are, and we forget the immeasurable gifts of our
inheritance as sons and daughters of the King of Kings. We don’t have to lose
it all to find it again, like the Prodigal Son. We can rejoice that we never
have to trade it in. Because Jesus already traded His own life for our
inheritance. The prodigal son learned the hard way, but so did the prodigal’s
brother.