Nine months ago, I woke up Sunday, March 17, three days after losing Kip, with another knot in my stomach. After lying in bed crying the Journey of 1,000 Tears, I told my best friend I wanted to go to church. I needed worship… I think? I needed something to make sense of this all-consuming darkness that was suffocating me. My best friend was so accommodating those few days she was here. If I wanted to do it, we did it. If I didn’t want to do it, we didn’t. If I wanted to do it at first, but half-way through, I changed my mind, WE changed OUR minds. Everyone truly does deserve someone so loving, thoughtful, and supportive.
After making my body follow the directions of my mouth, we all got dressed and headed to church. The culture of my church is a welcoming one, so when we walked through the doors, I immediately felt a bit of relief despite the weight I dragged chained to my leg.
Church started, and the Worship Team was in full swing! The lights were flashing, the bass was thumping, and people all over the auditorium were praising God. My senses were engaged, and I was finally distracted from the monster we all call grief, or so I thought… The Worship Team transitioned to the second song titled “Do It Again” by Elevation Worship. This one is generally a slower tempo. It was actually one of my favorites, so I immediately recognized the melody. I closed my eyes, and welcomed whatever God was about to lay on my heart. This had to be the moment I thought I needed this morning when I was lying in bed. But what I felt was the complete opposite. What I experienced couldn’t have been farther from God’s grace! The lyrics to the chorus are:
Great is Your faithfulness, faithfulness
I’m still in Your hands
This is my confidence, You never failed me yet
And I believe, I’ll see You do it again
You made a way, where there was no way
And I believe, I’ll see You do it again”
By the time the Worship Team was in the middle of the song, this intense rage washed over me. I caught myself grimacing and grinding my teeth. My heart was racing, and my fists were balled at my sides rather than lifted above my head in surrender. How could I worship a God I was furious with? Have you ever been there? I was confident that God would heal Kip, but God had failed me, and failed to move that mountain. I prayed, fasted, believed, and had faith the size of a mustard seed, and I STILL lost the man I had prayed fervently for. Philippians 4:6-7(NLT) says, “…Tell God what you need, and thank him for all He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace…” My prayer time was set up just like that. That was how Kip and I prayed. Yet, here I was without him. Without the promise God told me. The heat that came along with the rage I felt started at my core and spread over my entire body in waves, and if I’m honest, I liked it. That was the first time I felt anything in three days. I had been walking around hollow inside, and in that enraged moment, I could feel again.
During alter call, I tried one more time to get whatever it was that I needed, so I went to the alter to pray, and couldn’t think of a single word to say. I knelt at the alter tight lipped with a hard and broken heart. Someone came over and laid a hand on my shoulder and began to pray for me; I broke. Every emotion I thought I already released seemed to come barreling out of every single pore. I sobbed loudly at the alter. I was able to angrily choke out, “God I’m here. You promised you meet me.” I questioned God at the alter that day. What kind of God would cause someone to experience so much pain and anguish, and allow the person who loved them to witness it? How could God promise me that I was an heir to His throne, and not protect me from that type of heartbreak? That type of suffering? I don’t know what I was expecting in that moment, but I got up still angry. As soon as I turned around, my campus pastor was right there. He said, “We’re praying for you,” and wrapped his arms around me. I collapsed in his arms and sobbed even more. Obviously, church was the wrong idea, right? All I did was cry, and that was the one thing I was tired of doing! I appreciated my Pastor, and I wanted to receive him and those prayers, but rage felt so much better. I pulled myself together enough to make my way back to my seat for the remainder of the service. I sat there contemplating walking out during the entire sermon. I didn’t want to hear anymore lies.
Fast forward to the last Sunday in 2019, and I was back at church, but this time on the opposite side of the auditorium when the Worship Team sang the exact same song by Elevation Worship.
Life had taken a funny turn, not bad, not good, but a turn. Grief is complex like that. I was at the alter again praying to God about finding joy in ordinary things again. God had elevated me from one level to the next, and I was feeling overwhelmed and under-qualified. I had no motivation to do anything. There were so many things I knew needed to happen at work, with my kids, with my home, with myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to do any of it.
I knew that I needed to consult with the author of the story of my life. So, I treated the alter like my very own confessional. Matthew 11:28-30 28“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” The way I view the alter is like this place that I can literally take all of my problems, worries, and issues that are beyond my control (even though I often try to handle them within my own strength), and lay them there. I go tell God what they are, even though I know full well He knows, and leave them there. That’s also how I view trust. Once I give it to Him, I know He has it. When I get up, those things are with the only One who can turn them into something He can use for my good…
I heard that same melody from “Do It Again” just as before, and the lyrics flowed in a familiar manner. I was distracted from my prayer, and jolted back to that Sunday, on the other end of the auditorium. I instantly remembered the sorrow in my heart, the confusion in my mind, and the heaviness in my soul. God spoke to me at the alter saying, “I did keep my promise. Don’t you feel my peace? Haven’t I moved mountains? Just because I didn’t move the way thought I should doesn’t mean I’ve failed you, daughter. Even now, your thoughts are a memory, not your reality.”
And just like that, I was at the alter sobbing all over again, but this time it was because of God’s goodness. It was because for so many years, I was taught not to question God, but if we don’t question Him, how will we get answers? I sobbed because He answered me nine months later, and showed me that even when I turned my back on Him, doubted His love, and questioned my faith, I remained anchored in grace.
Just like last time, someone came and laid a hand on my shoulder. I heard her praying for my strength to walk in what you had prepared for me, and it gave me so much… strength! I’m still in awe of how God uses people at the right time. Imagine if the woman who had come to pray with me had not been obedient… I said all of that to say this, the promise in Philippians 4:6-7 is that we’ll experience God’s peace. He doesn’t say when or how, but He does promise us that we will. God placed me right back in the very place when I thought taking my life into my own hands was better, safer, and wiser (man grief can be tricky and conniving). He placed me in the same place, same spot, and even with the same song lyrics to show me that nothing stays the same, not even our deepest hurts.
(Ya’ll the praise break I had after typing that last sentence tho…)
I’ve been in this dark and stagnant place for the last nine months. I can only compare it to an out of body experience. I’ve watched life happen around me – extended myself so I could see others experience the joy I lacked. I dressed numbness up so beautifully, but it had gotten heavy. Too heavy to carry into 2020. Sarah Jakes Roberts wrote, This is the season of change and transformation — your opportunity to grow. You are armed with more wisdom, discernment, awareness, confidence, and joy than the innocent and delicate person you once were” (Don’t Settle for Safe).
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