The Bench
Hardship, sickness, pain. I am quite familiar with all of these things. I don't like sharing my difficulties. Maybe it's because I don't want to seem weak or allow myself to relish in sympathy.
So it's often me and God, alone, facing my mess. When I was younger, I was taught that when you pray, you enter into God’s courtroom. Which always seemed really formal and uncomfortable to me. See, God and I, our relationship is more like two backpackers on a journey. So it's hard for me to imagine God's courtroom. My mind wanders to another place: a bench. It's on a path, in the middle of nowhere.
That's where I often find God. He is always sitting on that old, weathered bench, it seems, watching the clouds over a valley.
Sometimes I get upset. I find myself at this bench too often. I want to move forward, I want to do big things, but unfortunately, this body fails me.
I am sick. I will not get better unless God allows it. That's the truth. And it frustrates me.
“God,” I say in a frustrated tone. “Why are we not moving? Life is short, so why are you sitting here?!”
And God, with a smile, not saying a word, looks back at the valley.
I can't conquer the valley alone, because the demons of my past live there. They yank me into temptation, and God always has to come untangle me. And no matter how far I have trekked into the valley, He always brings me back to that dreadful bench.
He sits, He is quiet, He listens to my loop of frustration. And as He listens, His eyes melt my frustration into worry, his smile transforms my worry into sadness, and His love heals my sadness into peace.
Eventually, I find myself on that bench with Him. Without a word, we both look at the valley. God doesn't sit on the bench to hold me back. No, he waits for me there.
As I struggle, grow, and cry in the valley, God waits for me to ask for His help. I end up on that bench a lot. I try to be too independent all the time. So maybe that's why God allows me to be sick, so I have to rely on Him.
God is patient; He allows me to struggle and hears me when I surrender. I cannot conquer my valley; that is a fact. But God can.
It's a full surrender at that bench.
“God, I need you to carry all of it,” I say, handing over my baggage, and myself.
All my hurt, my sickness, my dirt, my ugliness. I can get nowhere without surrender. It is not weakness, it is not shameful, it is trust in my God.
It won't be easy either. I have to cling to God as temptation tries to rip me from Him. The temptation to be bitter, angry, and cruel.
God, remind me that many times, I need you to change me, not change the situation. For through you I can find quiet in the valley.
Thank you, Lord.
Have a blessed day,
from your friend, Kait.