Faith. That is a nice word. I like the sound of it. I like the idea of it. However, I often find myself extremely lacking in that area. It is an elusive idea for me. As hard to find as a needle in a haystack, so to speak. I find myself in a battle these days that I am losing.The battle between what I tell myself outwardly, and the things I tell myself internally. I have been locked in a battle of wits with nobody but myself. I have endured a rough two years and I see no end in sight to the travails ahead. I started going to church, trying to align myself just right with the Lord so he’ll see me down here and acknowledge me. I thought church would surely calm me, give me strength to keep going. Honestly, I find myself crawling more than running to church these days. I am on fumes, and I have to really dig deep to find some reserves to keep me moving. I find what I need though. I’m still here. I’m still moving. I am exhausted though and what I really resent here, is the idea that I am not being heard because I have no faith, and my problems begin and end with me. I am still here, am I not? Isn’t that, at the very least, an exercise in good faith? I can manifest my own happiness perhaps, and leave God out of the equation. What does it say though, that still want Him to hear me? I think God has chosen to turn a blind eye to me. It gets harder and harder to convince myself that He hears me. If He does, He is actively ignoring me. Perhaps, it not ignorance that is my issue. What I may have wanted two years ago may not be the things I need now or even want anymore. That may even be the point. It concerns me greatly though, that I find myself so frequently having to muster the will to keep going, despite my utter and complete exhaustion. How much more do I have to do? How many more days can I even continue to do this? I am tired. I had a friend just a couple of years ago, in the midst of my own personal problems , that committed suicide. It struck me then, as it does even to this day, why it was allowed to happen. If I allow even this small nugget of doubt here, I have to question everything about anything I allowed myself to believe about God, about miracles, about faith. About His inherent goodness. Why, just before the trigger was pulled, was there no divine intervention? Was He that indifferent to my friends pain? No small miracle to allow even a glimmer of hope for him? Perhaps a knock at the door, a chime of a text, a ringing of a incoming phone call? Some small, minute glimmer? Some interference? If God is there and knows every road, every avenue, every path you take, why no small miracle here? Just a small miracle to give him the energy to persist. If I entertain even the small idea that He could have intervened, everything I believe unravels.
If I let myself stew too long here in notion, this idea, that God chose to ignore his pain and let him end it, why do I myself choose to continue in my walk with Him? Why is my pain more meaningful than his? I think God could have heard him and given my friend more of His time. I obviously could have waited. It says so much that I am this tired, this wiped out and yet still here. What happens when I am no longer able to find the resources to keep going? The want. The need. The wherewithal. The reservoirs are dwindling. I cannot keep this up forever. When I hit that point, will there be no intervention for me? No ringing at the door, no text, no knock?