Anything is Possible

Anything is Possible.

(Written 2/17/15 and published 6/6/24)

Yesterday I sat in our church service listening to our pastor share about the vision he had for the church. I've been in and out of church for some time now, and I'm feeling drawn into deeper places with my Jesus. Every week I come into the sanctuary, quiet my little soul and consider connecting with God here.  I'm finding myself flooded with emotion during the worship.  It's like water being poured out, rushing through the cracks to the very depth of my soul.  It feels like the presence of God overwhelms my senses and is digging into the deepest places.  The deep things of God are calling to the deep things of me.  I'm beginning to lay aside my pride and accept the tears that threaten to overflow my eyes as I try to remember what it's like to just let his love and presence wash over me, bypassing my thoughts and understanding.  

In the message, the pastor said, "Anything is possible."

I let these words linger in the air for a moment and something very profound occurred to me. I really do think anything is possible, but I don't believe it, not anymore.  And it's affecting my relationship with God is the most subtle of ways.  The more I think about it, the more I realize that my experience in Haiti was a blow to my spiritual gut that I may never recover from. I don't know how to trust God anymore. I love him, I know He never leaves me, I know He is always with me.  But, I don't trust Him like I used to.  Haiti wrecked that for me.  Staring into the faces of destruction and devastation while I was essentially unharmed and alive for no reason other than chance or pure luck has made God unpredictable and scary. 

"God must have a great plan for you." That's what everyone said.  It was God's plan to spare my life and rescue my team.  Like I should be happy to be "His favorite child" while hundreds of thousands of people were thrown into piles like garbage on the side of the road.  I used to joke about being "god's favorite child".  Now that haunts me a little bit.

It's like that impossible scenario you ask your parent, "If we were on a sinking ship and you could only save one of your kids, which one would you save?"  Like it would feel awesome to be "the chosen one"....  the truth is it would feel awful being the child that was chosen.  Being alive when so many suffered and died.   I didn't know the people in the piles, but they feel like family. And there was a lot of people that didn't get saved on the "sinking ship" that day and I have to ask the questions... Where was God? Was God doing anything at all while hell was literally happening all around us?  It's painful and confusing and distorts my view of who this God that I've served and loved all these years really is. How could God choose who to save?  Is that really how it works?  And if it isn't, then how is anything possible?

I'm struggling to hold "Anything is possible" in the same space as my experience in Haiti. Does this mean I've lost my faith?  I really do think God can do anything, but I think there are a lot of things God just doesn't do.  I'm struggling to find the defining line of what to really believe and what to simply not think about.  It's hard to sit in the tension, sometimes it's easier to just not think about it.  It's safer there. The reality is I don't want to be disappointed again. But I can't stay here anymore, it's time to move forward.

The truth is, I was disappointed.  I felt helpless in Haiti, and it sure seemed like God was helpless too.  If God is able, then why didn't GOd do more? ... I know the "answer". I know the theology about freewill and the nature of sin in a fallen world. I even think it's true. I just don't know how to be OK with it. 

I don't know how to feel about God now.  I know what I think, but I don't know how I feel. I don't know what defines my relationship anymore.  The truth is, I haven't honestly given it much thought recently.  That is until recently. Now it's all I think about.

I want things with Jesus to be the way they used to be.  I want to trust Him more than I trust myself. It feels awful and wrong to say that God hurt me, but somewhere in surviving and coping and finding my "normal", I'm realizing that I've been wounded.  Maybe even wounded by God.  I don't know that this kind of wound ever heals. If it does, I'm pretty sure what is broken will never look like it did before.