Invitation

Immanuel. God with us. In our morning reading of "When Holidays Hurt", this was the word. To me, "God with us" is literally that. He is with us. All the time. He says He is, He says so many times He'll never leave us, He's with us, He'll never forsake us, He's with us to the end of the world.

While pondering His "with us" character, this Immanuel, I kept being brought back to the times when it seemed He wasn't with me. The times when He seems shrouded by the darkness of my unanswered “why?”. Hiding in the shadows of the “how come?”, avoiding my “why now?”.  

The first 7 months after my dad died, Sorrow was a constant companion. Grief waited in the background. Like a faulty, heavy black theater curtain, it would unexpectedly come plunging down on me, quick to wrap me in its thick, velvet folds and smothered darkness, leaving me crying, disoriented, unable to join 2 complete thoughts together. And while I knew God didn’t leave me, I did wonder why I didn’t feel Him all the time.

At the beginning of July, unexpectedly, the curtain of Grief retreated. Sorrow remained, but Joy was more bold about slipping her hand into the hand of Sorrow making the path brighter and leaving me able to take deep gulps of life. (Important side note: Preceding this reprieve, God pulled up a chair and spoke to me of some misplaced faith and trust. He reminded me that He’s never, ever left me. That’s a whole blog entry on its own).

Now, as unexpectedly as it gave reprieve, once again Grief has boldly rushed to the forefront of my life again, I've determined to look at the darkness, this curtain of grief, from a different angle. Not from an angle of  entitlement, self justification, defense, or fear, but from the angle of complete faith. Of absolute belief that He doesn’t lie, if He says He never leaves me, I’m going to believe it. This time wholeheartedly.  

I’ve been thinking about this question: What if when it’s dark, He’s not gone, He’s issuing an invitation?

What if He’s inviting me to come deeper WITH Him. He beckons from the shadows. In Him there is no darkness. When I, by faith, step into the darkness I find Him to be all the light I need. He may only light up the step in front of me, but that’s enough. Romans 11:33 says “Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable His judgments, and His paths beyond tracing out!”  Isaiah 55 says His ways are above ours, His thoughts aren’t ours. (I’m always up for trading my thoughts for His). Psalms tells us that “Thick darkness and clouds surround Him”. He is a God of mystery. He is a God of the dark. Beautiful thing about it; that darkness, that mystery, that “unsearchable”ness is part of why I love Him so much. He’s consistent but yet He has so many facets to His character and He’s so full of both understanding and mystery. He doesn’t present these “darker” sides of Himself to us as a deterrent, but as an invitation.  He says “believe what I say, and follow Me. Follow Me, Lonna. Let your soul cling to Me and know that my right Hand upholds you.” (He never mis-pronounces my name either).

Tomorrow I’m going to unclip some pages of my journal that have been too painfully dark to read. The pages I wrote the day my dad died.  I clipped them together with a paperclip so I wouldn’t see them. Will grief smother me again? Will the curtain fall, the blackness take my breath away? I don’t know. But I’m not afraid of it anymore. I’m going to breathe in it. I’m going to look around this time. I’m going to worship Him from my unanswered questions. I’m going to thank Him in the darkness of not understanding. I’m going to let the pain draw me closer to Him. How? By sheer faith. By deliberately leaning in and believing Him. By His word, not my fears.  By Isaiah 42:16: “I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.”

Yep, that’s what this girl is going to do.