Shalom

My faith is unsteady. It crumbles and it quakes. I am the last leaf of autumn shaking and shivering amidst all the cold…oh how my heart aches. I’m weary from the holding. I’m weary from the night. I’m weary from everything around me that doesn’t feel right. This season of sorrow has lasted so long. There is a deep grief lodged in my soul and I’m not sure how to go on. I wrestle with God more now than at other times. My prayers are weak and pathetic, but they are all I can give. I petition Him in a whisper when the sun begins a new rise. It’s an ascent that promises new mercies from a God who assures He has good in store. As noon approaches I am certain of only one thing-that it’s not songs, but sighs that belong to me. By the time night has crept up and I lay down for sleep, I repeat the same plea that has become my struggling beat. “I want to be like Jesus, Lord, in my heart, in my heart…but not like this Lord, not like this. Lord, I want to be more holy, in my heart, in my heart…but not like this, Lord, not like this. I want to be a servant in my heart, in my heart…but not like this Lord, not like this…Lord what do we do with this?”

I admit, there are times I wish I could turn back the clock. I selfishly reminisce on more rose-colored times. I hear that so many are sick of abuse, controversy, and device. And I get it. I really do. The last years have been daunting and draining and there are times I want to be done too. Done with the conversations and done with pressing on. But at the same time, those stuck in the middle of their trials, conflicts, addictions, and abuses feel done too. Some feel done with the disagreement between friends and family. Others are exhausted over mourning the loss of their loved ones. They have nothing left to give emotionally. Many are tired of their sins. Then there are more than we realize that are done fighting for protection, repentance, and healing. They are done with the memories, the touches, the words, the bruises on body and brain. They are done hearing wrong responses and excuses. It's one thing to say we are done with our own struggles, but do we have the awful courage to look into the face of a fellow sufferer and tell them we are done with their pain? Can we sincerely be done with things that will always be present until our Savior returns? Will not pushing the ache away without tending only create more infection?

I want to do good. God knows that I truly seek to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with Him by my side. But He knows that I’m also tired, uncertain, and feeling weak and exposed. He knows that I’m burdened by my own sinful nature as well as the disputes of His people. Where there are many who are trying to do what is right, there are also times slander, accusations, and calloused spirits have crawled in. We are prone to polarize and think we are above others. We are Israelites wandering- quick to rash judgments, not listening well, and making it about ourselves instead of the gospel. And I am weary. So weary with all of it…

My soul why art thou grieving…why so troubled and dismayed? Oh, that I had wings like I dove. For then I would fly far away. Perhaps to a remote mountain apart from deep valleys. I would soar above terror and tragedy-be close to the heavens. For maybe there I would be free.

My husband’s chest rises and caves in restful rhythm. The hand that had laced mine just moments before now rests heavy in sleep. It’s been a long day. Or has it been a long week, month, or year? Cars zoom past outside. It's a noise I'm still not accustomed to after 9 months of living here. It’s 1 AM, but still people have places to go. I can’t sleep. I toss and I turn along with my thoughts. I stare at my best friend…he doesn’t know it in this moment, but I’m thankful for his lion heart that loves God so strong. He’s the one thing that seems to balance my inward tremors when I feel like I am going to fracture. I smile at him, even though he is unawares. I want to wake him from his slumber to tell him I love him, but instead I brush his cheek, and then glide out of bed in a search to find peace. I wrap myself in a blanket-as if that alone can ward off the lonely. Car after car continues to whoosh by. It’s unending clamor-like all the sin and ache. I try to interrupt the discord with remembrances of God’s mercies of late.

It was just last week as my husband was reading. He looked up at me gently, and I saw it there in his deep brown eyes-compassion welling up for where I was struggling. He set the pages to the side, ready instead to hold me. That in itself was healing. I’m the luckiest girl in the world, I had thought. It’s a silly phrase that throughout the years, when I have felt seen and heard by him, rushes back to me. Why do I so often take him for granted? He didn’t try to fix the problems we face, but rather accepted that this is our difficult way. We prayed to our Father and after amen, he said softly, “Cherith, may God give you peace.” I can’t explain it, but it settled my soul and made me feel loved...and shalom rained over me.

Just a day later we reconnected with a friend over coffee. We have failed her before, but God has used her to shape us in ways we would never have imagined or known. I’m getting to know her is new ways and I feel so blessed and undeserving. After she left I was emotionally drained. I cleaned the house and prepared for Sunday. The night blurred on. At some point I finally set myself an epsom salt bath to just try and relax. A text lit up my phone from a new friend saying she left something in the garage for me. I scurried out of my bubble bath sprinkled with tears to find a note with some flowers waiting. She thanks me for helping, but she doesn’t realize she has also helped me. I used to think flowers were such a waste of money because they just fade and die. But over the past year I have realized they bring life, hope, and grace to a room when things seem so frustrating, mundane, and bare. They are here for a moment before moving on…just like us. They are snippets of grace, filling me with more shalom.

It came again on Sunday as we sang. “No human power delights Him, no earthly pomp or pride; He loves the meek who fear Him and in his love confide; then praise thy God, O Zion, His gracious aid confess; He gives thee peace and plenty, His gifts thy children bless.” More shalom.

It’s unexpected really, but I broke down after church. I saw an elder glance my way as I talked with someone. I felt failure surround me, but she was listening, and it was relieving to be known, bringing more shalom.

Monday had begun a new week and that friend that’s always busy serving stopped by with a week’s worth of meals to serve me. Various sisters in Zion texted throughout the week, reminding me we are in this together-we are not alone. My God is providing Shalom.

I read it at Bible Study. “But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you.” (1 Peter 5:10) Settle. That word brought me peace. I could confess- to Him be dominion and glory forever. Amen. (1 Peter 5:11) Sweet peace.

I heard it in a song shared over Facebook as I journaled thoughts about peace. “When the path that I feared is the way He has set, and I long to give in and retreat…Still to Jesus I hold as I face every step. For the Lord He will give me His peace.” Ok Lord. When I feel like I’m losing me way, You are Shalom in both the mountain and valley.

My flesh says, “I want to be done Lord.” Yet, I hear Him tell me plainly through small daily graces, “My path for you is not something you get to choose. I am the God of all glory-you don’t get to decide how you’re used.” …I tell him what He already knows, for He is the One who placed the burden on me first. "I want to be a servant Lord, in my heart.” Then follow me. I will show you. Just settle and continue following Me. I head back to bed, for at least in this moment, I have been given peace. Sacred shalom.

On the morrow, out of the blue, my husband tells me, “It’s ok to be struggling.” More than many things lately, these simple words give me peace. For it’s through the trenches of struggling that we are given triumphant Shalom.

I turn on a cartoon for the kids even though they just came home. I want to see them, hold them, love them dear. But Father knows I need to go to Him more. It is cold, but I meander outside and sit on a swing. It is there that my prayer begins to ascend. “God, keep us going strong. Help us example Thy perfect Son. He who never threw up his hands in dismay and said, “I’m done. I’m sick of caring and protecting. I’m sick of talking to my disciples about what it is to be meek and lowly as they care for Your sheep. I’m sick of dealing with stubborn Peters and proud disciples who fight for prominence and the glory of their own names. I’m sick of listening to oppressed women and children and feeling their ache. Their voices are becoming a bother, Lord. Is it really as bad as they say? I’m tired of having a zeal for holy and calling out sins and hypocrisies for what they are-an offense to Your name. I’m sick of serving Lord.” No, Lord, I know Christ came with hands gentle and eyes that understand. His words on the cross were not, “TOO MUCH, Father! TOO MUCH! I’m done Father! I’m done…” No, inwardly he groaned, “MORE! More pain to Me because THY will must be done. More pain to me because to protect Your heritage is why I have come.” (1 Peter 5:3) Help us Lord to keep fighting the good fight. Give grace for the moment and wisdom from above. Help us to love one another without strife and hate. May we serve one another rightly and not tolerate sin. Help me Father to serve others in a way that is pleasing to Thee. To not give up convictions, but to also speak wisely. I guess what I am asking is-Help me to be like Jesus, Lord. Help me be Like Jesus, in my heart. And give me and my fellow-sufferers Shalom. In Thy Son's name alone. Amen.”