Junior year of high school was rough. In fact, that’s putting it nicely. Junior year chewed me up and spit me out. I semi-recovered over the summer, and I had high hopes that senior year would get easier.
It didn’t.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to complain. I live a crazy wonderful, blessed, albeit difficult and sometimes messed up life. I don’t expect it to be easy. And this past year, it hasn’t been. It’s been more hard than I know what to do with sometimes, but looking back, I think I realize why.
Somewhere between losing two of the most loved, trusted people in my life, I stopped believing that God was in control.
Somewhere between losing my best friend in the whole world, I stopped believing that God was enough for me.
Somewhere at 35,000 feet in the air, locked in an airplane bathroom and crying my eyes out, I stopped believing that God would accomplish the things he started in my heart and life.
Somewhere in the middle of losing my youth pastor and his wife, I stopped believing that God knew what He was doing.
Somewhere between losing the boy I was madly in love with, and still not being sure I wouldn’t give anything to hear him say he loved me again, I stopped believing that God had a plan for my life.
Somewhere between the dark, sleepless nights and the long days spent fighting off wave after wave of emotions, I stopped believing that God cared.
Somewhere in the middle of my weakness, I stopped believing that God was my strength.
Somewhere in my darkest hour, when I found myself completely and utterly alone-not from lack of people who cared, but for lack of people who could ever really understand-I stopped believing that God was with me and I was never meant to do this alone.
Somewhere between comparing myself to my gorgeous friends and being bombarded by a culture with an impossible standard of perfection, I stopped believing that I am beautiful, simply because God created me and I am His.
Somewhere in focusing on my pain, I stopped believing that this life is about One person...and it is not me.
Somewhere between seeing God as far away and as someone who was asking me to give up far too much, I stopped believing that He’s Daddy too.
Somewhere in the midst of this year, I stopped believing that God is God, and I am not.
It’s not that I made a conscious decision about those things, it’s just that I was fighting so many battles, I lost sight of the One who could actually help me win them.
But, starting right now, I am choosing to start believing the truth again. Not because I am strong, or great, or have much faith. But because God is gracious, and faithful, and goes to the ends of the earth to bring us back. Because He cares, and He is there, and He is so, so good. Because He is showing me more and more that His ways are higher than mine. Because He loves much, and forgives much, and keeps no list of my wrongs. Because He has been right there all along, waiting for me to open my eyes, ears, and heart, and realize it. And it doesn’t mean life gets easier or better or happy. But we can do hard. We were created for it. We are given everything we need to do this life-and do it well-because we have been given Jesus. I’ve tried life without Jesus, and trust me, it doesn’t work. So, I am done with not believing. I am done with feeling sorry for myself. I am done with getting caught up in the temporal things of this earth.
I am choosing Jesus.
I am choosing to do hard.
I am choosing to believe.
