Bottom of the Drink
Humility.
Just saying that word sounds so ugly. Have you been forced to undergo humility training lately? I sure have. I think God looks down on me and says, Well, Sara, you asked for this. You asked for Me to search your heart and know your thoughts; you asked Me to find any way of pain in you and then lead you in My way, the everlasting one.
Yes, I did. Wow.
I have a chronic imbalance. It’s actually really embarrasing just to talk about it. So I try not to.
The last two-and-a-half months have been a humility boot camp, since I prayed David’s prayer in church, months back, from Psalm 139 (my favorite psalm -- well, one of many). Life has been sifting and churning and crushing, and we (I especially) feel ground like fine flour. It's been trial upon trial upon trial on our family, and not just ours, but also on those we love. Eric and I are feeling totally spent. I feel humbled. On my knees humbled. Face buried in His feet humbled.
Ever feel like saying "uncle" or "enough" with God? That's what our prayer has been lately. Truly, Lord, have mercy. Lord save us in this moment, save us now!! We finally want to be at the end of this, to the less-crushing and more fruit-bearing side of the tunnel. Hasn’t endurance done it’s perfect-result thing yet in our lives? Do we still lack? Praise You anyway. Always. Wisdom, increase my faith, so that I learn to trust again. Once again, God, I will praise You in this storm.
Honestly, I feel alone in this. My husband and immediate family where I live know nothing about the torment of my illness. They watch me from the sidelines, helping as best they know how. It’s like Paul's thorn in the flesh, which he tried to "pray away" three times. I told God to take it away or take me. It is that horrific to live out. It’s also embarrassing and humbling. It forces me to ask for help and to trust the counsel of others He's placed in my life. I try to fool myself into thinking I'm strong enough, even without them. This is where my “wisdom” gets swallowed up in the drain.
My husband and I are walking through this together, hand in hand, as always.
Without this chronic issue I have, he wouldn't have had to start holding me in
his strong arms at night to make sure I’m asleep in his arms, wrapped up in
total peace, watching over me in the morning to make sure the kids don’t wake
me. He has always been an emotional
stabilizer for me, so when we as a couple are having any trouble whatsoever, I
feel helpless, like I have to stand on my own two feet, alone, in my strength.
Totally and completely. But I'm not.
Even there, in that time of helplessness, God is there. He's at the bottom of the drink, the sea of despair at midnight or midday, waiting to swallow me up in His mercy and incredible grace. He's there to spit me out again, like Jonah, and give words of peace and wisdom in the morning and watch over me and ask me to listen. To Him. To His Word.
He's there to remind me of the perfectly matched man He gave me and to remind both of us of His love and His faithfulness, upon which we can stand firmly. Trust like no other.
He's there to swallow me with His love, time and again. He's there to show me, as always, the silent humility of His majesty; how He, King of the universe, entered
Humility: the willingness to just say, "I need help. I'm not strong enough on my own."
May my humility be so apparent. I’m broken and face-planted at Your humble feet, Lord, but listening. I am listening. Have mercy and please save.
"Believers in humble circumstances ought to take pride in their high position.... But the rich should take pride in their humiliation—since they will pass away like a wild flower. For the sun rises with scorching heat and withers the plant; its blossom falls and its beauty is destroyed. In the same way, the rich will fade away even while they go about their business. Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him." James 1:10-12
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