Staying in the Fight

Some seasons of life knock us to our knees–sometimes literally–more than others. I don’t know about you, but in those seasons the challenges seem to come in waves, every wave layered with currents of discouragement, self-doubt, hopelessness, and all-out weariness.

Last month was one of those times. The waves came from all directions, sometimes one on top of the other. It felt relentless, often unexpected, and completely overwhelming–affecting our family, marriage, finances, health, work, and my writing.

This time, though, in the chaos of the waves, something was different.

As I stared down at the latest rejection in my writing journey–this one, honestly, completely unexpected–I saw it for what it was. A necessary part of the writing journey, but also an attempt to throw me off course. I’d been gaining traction in my current story, feeling hopeful that things were finally beginning to shift in my writing prospects, and finding joy in all of it. And then… It knocked the wind out of me, almost literally. I sat struggling for breath as I processed the unexpected turn.

Yet as I cried, I made a choice. I announced it out loud, because I needed to hear it myself.

“God I still choose to trust you. I still believe you.”

Those were fighting words. And they were powerful.

Somewhere between the heartache and the disorientation of the unexpected, they became solid ground beneath my feet. God had promised me He had a plan for my writing, and He would see it through. Even when that way felt impossible. Even when it took so much longer, with so much more heartache than I could have imagined. I could trust Him.

A few days later, the next wave hit–again, completely unexpected and equally disorienting. This one crashed over our family and left me again crying out to God for wisdom and grace and help. As all the worries and fears and precarious realities swept over us, I planted my feet on the solid ground of God’s faithfulness to all generations. I told Him, again, that I chose to trust Him.

Even if I didn’t feel it.

The days rolled on, and they were unrelenting. From all sides, unexpected turns, disappointments, frustrations, overwhelming needs, fragmented relationships, financial strain, and on and on and on.

Late in the month, after another unexpected turn of events, I found myself driving across town to pick up one of our kids. I could already anticipate the night that lay ahead of us, fraught with big emotions and the unpacking of circumstances that had been painful and hard. And I couldn’t do it. I had nothing–absolutely nothing–left to give. I sent frantic messages to a few family members and friends and asked them to pray for me. I felt like Moses standing on a hill over the Israelites, holding my hands high so they would be victorious in battle. I needed someone, as he did, to hold my arms up. I just couldn’t fight anymore.

The texts went out and I drove in silence, so empty I wasn’t sure how I would get through the night. I told God I’d been fighting with everything I had. I’d been standing my ground, resisting despair and fear and discouragement where they had attacked from all sides. I told Him I’d been clinging to His promise that He was still good, that He was still faithful, that He was still working. But I was battle-weary. So battle-weary. I needed to know who He was again. To hear it out loud.

And so, I began to recite what I knew to be true–what I chose to still believe.

You are good.

You are wise.

You are faithful. Present. Loving.

You are powerful. You are a mighty warrior. You are victorious.

The tears welled and spilled down my cheeks. My voice shook, but I said every word with conviction.

You are holy.

You are kind.

You are with us. You are faithful to all generations. You keep your promises.

You are true. You are trustworthy. You are worthy.

By the time I got to the place I was going, I was sobbing. Not the tears I’d cried earlier, tears of discouragement and heartbreak. They were tears of resolve. Tears of someone who’s given their all to the battle, been knocked to the ground, and stood to their feet once more to raise the banner high.

They were tears that reminded my heart of exactly who I was fighting for–and who was fighting for me.

Sometimes life comes at us from every possible side, hitting us where we’re weakest or where God’s work has been greatest. We get turned around in the currents of each wave, wondering which way is up, struggling to find our footing beneath the water. Sometimes the outcome feels so uncertain, we aren’t sure we’ll ever find our way out.

And yet.

God doesn’t change. He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t falter or fail. We can stand on the never-shaken, never-ending, never-failing character of who He is.

Our God is a warrior. We can trust Him to see us through every battle.

We can trust Him, even when we can’t see the end.

Especially when we can’t see the end.

Image credit: Dennis Schmidt, Unsplash