Clinging to Hope

I’m hesitant to discuss faith in my writings because I want people to hear my heart and not be swayed by my words, but I have to say this:

I struggle with unbelief.

It’s ironic, really, because I have always been a person that has been “known” for being a Christian (and I can’t tell if that is good or bad anymore).  I wasn’t always this way.  Becoming a believer as a teenager rooted me differently than if I would have been saved as a child.  I had already dealt with 7 years of being in a family dealing with narcotic and alcohol addiction.  I grew up in a family that referenced my mother’s binges as being “f***** up.”  I saw and heard things that a child should have never been exposed to.  When I became a believer, I bought into being a part of family that would always love you and never let you down.

The idea of unconditional love is very appealing to a child who has been told that she was not good enough.

I never harbored disillusions of an easy life as a Christian.  I knew the road would be hard.

My disillusion was the idea that I would always know that God was with me.

Life has dealt me one curveball after another, in such a way that some people might have given God the proverbial “finger.”  I won’t lie and say that I haven’t felt that way, that I don’t feel that way.  I’ve learned enough about God to know that He is big enough to handle my anger.

I also know that I have a few options.  I can choose to walk away from Him, I can choose to have optimism and faith, or I can hobble, scabbed and bruised in the path I believe He has chosen.  It requires faith, but I cannot say that I am blindly optimistic about it.

I don’t understand why things are allowed to happen this way.  I am angry over the illnesses and hurts of the world.  I am angrier over the false “Christians” of this life that damage, harm, and lead astray.

I attended church a few Sundays ago where I heard the sermon about when Jesus walked on water.  The pastor talked about how the disciples were scared — they believed they were alone, that they would perish, that Jesus would never be in the boat with them.

I am aware I am in the storm.

I am clinging to hope.

Hope that things will get better someday.  Hope that I will be able to see the face of Jesus.  Hope that I will be able to share hope again. Hope that I am believing in a God that is true, real, and good.

If you are clinging to hope, know that it’s okay.  I am clinging with you.

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One response to this post.

  1. I struggle a lot too. Part of me is a science person (I am an engineer) and that part seems to question my faith. But another part of me yearns for there to be something greater than myself.

    Reply

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