When it feels like He’s not there

In January I set myself a whole list of goals. My list was color coded and organized by  month. I was dreaming big for 2019. Then February happened. February was the kind of month that would make anyone want to stay in bed for days. And if February was an 11 out of 10 on the sucky scale, March was a 12.

Now here we are 6 days into April and my color coded goal list looks a lot more like a grocery list before you make it to the store than a successful portfolio of change and growth. My pantry is full of all comfort foods instead of the yummy vegetables it is normally full of because I’ve been eating my feelings for 2 months. I’m a little bit behind in every class I’m taking because I missed an entire week of class in March and my motivation is at a low that I never thought it could reach. And I wish that was the end of the list of the things that April is not looking so hot for. I wish that was the end of the list of things that I am not so proud of myself for. But the one thing I wasn’t ready to have go wrong in 2019, is the thing my live is built on: my hope in solid ground.

Through most of my life I’ve been deemed the “church girl”. I’ve been the kid literally raised in the church. I’ve been the weird teenager who spent her whole weekend at church. I’ve been the college girl who joins a women’s ministry instead of a club or sorority. I’ve been the one with the contagious hope and smile. The one who could shout from the roof tops about the goodness of my God and share with every person I’ve met how much God loves them. This year though, these past 3 months, that confidence has been shaken. My knees have hit the floor in sadness and I’ve shouted in anger about how much I just don’t understand. I’ve spent weeks at a time avoiding church and quiet time and the people in my life who would try to speak truth over me. I’ve been mad and lonely and hurt. Its been hard to see glimmers of hope, its been hard to feel peace, and its been hard to trust God.

This year has looked less like a perfectly mapped road trip and much more like a hike in the woods, by yourself, without a map or a compass. I am not a fan of the woods, and I never have been. I’m also not a fan of being alone, lost, or confused. And just like how all of those things would suck in the physical wilderness, they suck just as much in the metaphorical wilderness. Its so easy to trust God and know He is there when the skies are clear, the road is open, and the GPS is working. Its much less easy to trust Him when its dark and stormy and you can’t see the next step. Its way more difficult to believe He is good and for you when your world is on its head and you can’t seem to catch a breath. This year I’ve been mad at God. This year I have doubted He is there. This year I’ve run far away from Him thinking I was running toward safety or understanding. And as I sit here reminiscing on the wilderness of the past few months, there are a few things I’ve realized.

1. the wilderness is way less intimidating and overwhelming when you take a second to admire the flowers and listen to the birds
2. Moms are the best at being flashlights in the dark
3. everyone gets lost, its just a part of life
4. in the wilderness, there is manna

The Israelites were celebrating a huge victory, their freedom from the slavery in Egypt, when God took them through the wilderness. They had just experienced a real life miracle and were ready to be on their way to the land of milk and honey. The Israelites were ready for the good stuff, the plan in action, the answered prayers. But instead, they got the wilderness. For forty years they were in the wilderness. But God did not forget them in the wilderness. He did not leave them alone. He did not abandon his plan for them. In the wilderness, He gave them manna. Now they didn’t know what this manna was, and they still weren’t happy with their situation, but they relied on the manna. They relied on God.

In my story there is no pillar of fire guiding me in the right direction, but there is manna. There are blessings in my life every day. I may not always acknowledge them, I may not always understand them, and I may not always appreciate them, but they are there. God has not abandoned me or forgotten me in the wilderness. God will never leave us. He is with us, He is for us, and He is good. So here’s to manna. May we all recognize it and choose to thank God for it, even in the wilderness.