Even after the feeling starts trickling back into your fingertips, you can’t help but wonder. Lord, why did you even let me love him to begin with? Why did you even bring me to this height if I’m not to see victory? Why did you even place a child in my womb if I were to never feel my loves hands fit perfectly around my finger?
To be honest, I didn’t think that the first Sunday back would be a hard one. I’m still praying. I’m still believing in him. I’m still loving him. Even the anger has begun to fade. Yet, there I stood, completely unsaturated in worship, hearing these words that rolled off my skin like a cold, hard rain, these words I wasn’t completely sure I could sing aloud.
I remember the day after our confirmed loss, opening my Bible to where I had left off.
Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation—if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.
| 1 Peter 2:2-3
& this was the first time I’ve ever stopped to ask myself
Have I tasted it?
Because I thought I had memorized it’s flavor, when really the earth simply hadn’t let go of its grip on my ankles yet during it’s spin. So when gravity let go to satisfy his itchy leg, all that had been linear launched into a universe that’s completely unfamiliar to me, revealing all that I had ever known had been a straight lined path. The worst of the worst, a tiny dip in the road. Because I hadn’t reached a point where I could no longer stare boldly in the eyes of a stranger & say God is still good & I’ve tasted it & I still taste it, I thought I had won immunity. But this, love, if I’m completely honest with you, was the moment all becomes crystal clear & the cute haze I’ve always seen the world through shattered. It was the climax in a book when the character reaches that moment when we all say oh no because we no longer know if they’re going to keep clinging to what they’ve always felt so sure of or whether this was the thing that would penetrate their unshakeable faith.
So it was me versus Sunday, & I’ve never felt God’s undivided attention until this moment where I stood unable to even mouth the words. Because I wasn’t looking to tell God how good he was– I wanted him to show me. Show me, Lord. Who do you say you are? Do you love me? & he probably heard my cries loudest because there has never been such clear communication on my part with God. Why did you do that, God? You say you’ll never leave me nor forsake me, so why did you let that happen to this love of mine?
& everyone has spoken the cliché. You know God loves you & so do I. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe it was a sign in your relationship. God’s timing is always best. The baby was never yours to begin with. Only six weeks along. & if you ask me what changed my heart it was not any of the hurt people tried to comfort me by. It was God’s answer.
I remember when it all happened thinking I should’ve been reading a better book, one more relatable in this situation that God could use to speak to me, aside from the Bible, but the Lord interrupted this train of thought with his first answer. I can use whatever I want.
& as silly as it sounds, if he had not spoken to me that time, I would’ve never gotten to his final answer to my big question. Because the answer was on the second to last page of that very unteachable book.
I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer.
You are yourself the answer.
Before your face questions die away.
| C.S. Lewis, Til We Have Faces
Before your face questions die away. He is still faithful. He is still for me. He is still trustworthy. & sometimes we get answers & sometimes we’re left in the silent embrace of our Savior, listening to the worship of those around us. He is still mighty to save, & I will trust him.
This is faith, love. Welcome to it.
It’s your turn, love. Break the silence. Spill your guts.