'Behind Each Hope, Lies a Doubt' photo (c) 2009, Cristian V. - license: are times when I know exactly what I’m going to write. There are times when the blank screen in front of me just seems like a horrible way to deal with the evening.

Tonight I’m somewhere in-between.

I have all these ideas of what I want to say, but I have absolutely no idea how to say them. And that makes me want to throw my computer across the living room. So I’m just going to write as it flows from my head.

I’ve been challenged lately in the blogs that have popped into my radar this week…specifically Monday. Bianca who blogs over at In The Name of Love wrote this post Monday that just kicked me in the butt. Then later that afternoon, Jamie Wright, who blogs over at The Very Worst Missionary wrote this little gem.

Let me be honest with you for a moment. I’ve been plagued with a lot of doubt lately. I’m not really sure why. Not doubt about who God is and what He’s doing, although that creeps in from time to time, but doubts about who I am and what I’m doing. Sometimes it gets me down so much that all I want to do is just stop.

And the thing is is that I don’t even really know what it is that I’m supposed to be doing that I feel like stopping, so sometimes when I get home, I just curl up under the covers and block everything out for a while. And I don’t think it’s that I’m depressed at all. I’ve been there before. This isn’t the same.

Overwhelmed maybe?

There are a lot of changes going on all around me and all kinds of crazy changes going on in me, and there are things that I want to fix that are way beyond my control. Things I want to hold on to that some day I will have to let go. And things that I want for myself and my friends and family so badly that it physically hurts at times. And yet it’s out of my control. There is nothing that I can do to fix or change or hold on or pull towards.

So instead of moving I curl up and close my eyes and beg for sleep that doesn’t come. And when sleep does come it’s not refreshing. It’s not that I’m sad or unhappy. It’s just that I’m not sure which way to push or pull or bend. And I’m willing to push, pull and/or bend as far as I need to go. I just don’t want to break.

So I sit and I write.

It seems to be the only therapy that’s actually helped me work things out in my head over the last 32 years. So I write. Most of which will be thrown away. But I write.

And I listen.

I listen to the dry wind as it blows through the trees around my home. I listen for the rain that the crops so desperately need. And I just listen for something. Anything. I listen to Ann Voskamp as she reads her book 1000 Gifts to me while I’m at work and make a plan to start writing things for which I’m thankful. The list seems daunting, but the rewards of noticing the beauty around me these last few days has been incredible.

18. Deer running from my back yard as I leave for work this morning.
19. Friends who will pray when I ask, without needing to know why.
20. Lunch with a friend.
21. Dinner with my family

I’m still a long way off and it’s going to take a while, but I think I’m up for the task. There is something about making a point to be thankful. Ann makes the point in her book (and I’m simplifying tremendously) that in the Bible every time before things start changing, before the miracles happen, before the world moves, thanks was given. She calls it Eucharisto. Giving thanks when the loaves of bread are too few. Thanks given from the one leper that was healed out of the ten. His faith making him whole.

So I write. And I listen. And I give thanks.

Because change is coming. Whether I’m ready for it or not.

Change is coming.

And I’ve got to be willing to bend.

About the author

  • I know this feeling very well and how frustrating it can be. Keep breathing and trusting. Whatever needs to come your way will come. I am praying for your peace today.