A while back, I was scrolling through my own blog (the vanity, I know) and just reading headlines. And I came across one I’d written a while back called “Sam found faith.” I didn’t actually click it to read it, but I believe it was about a situation I’d faced with faith, and how when I started my blog in 2011, it was all about me finding my faith, and faith had been the default response to a particular situation (which had been a legitimate hope of mine in my early days as a Christian – I wanted to respond with faith and hope, not fear and despair all the time) and yatta yatta yatta… whatever. You get the point.
Anyway, it got me thinking- really, FEELING humbled. After everything that I went through 2 years ago, losing so much faith, hitting such a low spot personally, and then turning my life upside down to be with my now-husband, it was just a lot. In as it built me up to break free of that life, it probably tore me down a little, too.
And I thought to myself: never again will I believe that I’ve arrived.
I don’t think that the blog I wrote back then was bad. I think that, at least in that moment, my faith was solid. I was sure of the Lord’s faithfulness and goodness for a time, that I DO know. It’s not that I didn’t have faith ever. It just that I started to lose it, slowly, and it was happening sort of in secret, too. So while there was little in my life to help restore it, what and who might have helped didn’t really know to do so.
And it just got chipped away at, all the while I was losing faith in the people around me, too. I was seeing so much lying and deceit and pride and really, just some childish bull shit among Christian and church leadership, in my own home, and in my Christian community and it just… I don’t know. Maybe I let it get to me. Maybe it just got to me.
Either way, I lost hope.
Outwardly, I was all like “God’s good, and there’s hope, and I’m okay!” But inwardly, I was suffocating. And I just think about me back then and I’m sad. She was so sad and no one knew. Things were crushing and devastating to her, and even those closest to her had no idea.
Even I write this and struggle not to victim-blame myself so don’t feel too bad if you’re like me, asking “well, why didn’t you just tell people?” Because they likely didn’t know simply because I didn’t say it or show it. And the answer is simple: who could I have trusted, really?
But I just think about, regardless of the faith that I had at one point, it wasn’t infallible. It wasn’t bulletproof. I wasn’t invincible.
I, like so many of the biblical heroes who’ve gone before us, had been tried and failed miserably. And that, my friends, is a bitch of a humbler if I ever did see one.
This life is a life of constant growth, and with growth comes change and tests, victories and, yes, failures. So, like I said, never again will I believe that I’ve arrived. That I’ve somehow come to a pinnacle or a peak of anything. But rather I will try to remain focused on the fact that I’m on an on-going journey; there is no real destination. There’s only continuous transformation.
And there’s grace for the failures. So much grace. God says where sin abounds, His grace is greater, and man… I’m just so thankful for that.