I stayed at a pretty amazing house this weekend. One of the joys of being me (is that okay to say?) is that sometimes I get to house-sit. And officially, I was house-sitting for a house-sitter. Don’t worry your pretty head about the details.
Anyways, so on their fridge (Sorry, let me clarify- the pantry fridge, because there are THREE on the main floor. Yeah. I know.) are those magnets that are random words. I keep meaning to buy these for my classroom but then I forget.
(I do have letters, though. And today someone wrote “REBEL AGAINST YOUR TEACHERS” with the magnet letters on the front of my desk. Strange, for 2 reasons- 1) I didn’t realize I had that many letters, 2) NONE of my children spell well enough to do that, nor do they know the word “rebel”. In fact, when we found it, they asked what it meant. So I’m curious who did it.)
TANGENT. I apologize. Back to the magnet words. As I was reading what was written with the magnet words, I laughed at “I desire butter and noodles.” Yeah, I hear that, brotha. But right below that someone has combined some phrases and came up with
And it stopped me. There’s been much going on in my heart and life (you can always tell that when I don’t blog much- it means my journal overfloweth). Much pain. Deep wrenching pain that makes you want to lay in your bed until you are 42 and things make sense. Until all that bothers has passed and you have ostrich-head-in-the-sand-ed your way to safer days.
But then you remember that if you stay in the bed until you are 42 you will get some raunchy bed sores, the bills will go unpaid, and the mailbox will overflow with flyers from Bed, Bath, and Beyond offering 20% off of any one item. (Truly, how do they afford that?) And you realize that you have to get up.
I think the hardest pain to face is the pain that directly involves God. And how He treats us. And His justice. And His holiness that is impossible to understand with this human brain. Where staying in the bed for 42,000 years won’t save you. When other people hurt you, that’s one thing. But when you feel that it is God Himself, that’s a whole other ball of hot wax. Ouch.
You want to run from Him, yet somehow, only God can save you from the pain He is a part of. And you know that, even though it is hard.
I say “you”. I mean “I” or “me”.
In the end, I think God hurt my feelings. Funny, huh? But you’d be surprised how deep that feels.
So there’s that.
After going to the night of healing prayer at RiverStone, and talking to my Mom and my cell group, I realized that I just needed TRUTH to reign. And I needed God to heal and hear and help. And to protect.
I needed someone to pass the promise. The Bible is full of them, but I was holding none. It’s like the other end of the table had it and I just wanted them to slide it in my direction, like butter beans in a khaki plastic bowl. Just for someone to remind me that He had not forgotten me. That He was near. That He loves this Annie as much as Scotland Annie. That when His scripture makes a promise to me, I can hold on to it, because He is true.
For weeks, my heart has been screaming, “SOMEONE PASS THE PROMISE! PLEASE SEND THE PROMISE DOWN THIS WAY! JUST PROVE THAT HE IS HERE! I WANT TO BELIEVE BUT I CAN’T! I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS! HELP!”. But there weren’t enough words on the fridge for that kind of rant.
So instead, “Please pass the promise” was sufficient. And calmer.
Maybe now you better know why I love when Shane & Shane sing “You are my Holiday”. Because it’s funny to me that at the end of all of this, He is still where I want to be. Where I find rest. Where I am purified. Maybe this is what it feels like to have hot coals to your lips? Trust me, I’m not comparing myself to Isaiah, I’m just saying that maybe this has been pain that brings holiness. And faith.
I want unshakable faith. And God’s asking me to prove it. And by asking me to prove it, He’s doing it. That’s the promise.