And that pain has a purpose, and my list is a lie

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest..."

- Matthew 11:28

The statement comes, and it is simple yet, multifarious.
Glinting eyes and a fervent tone say more than the five little words that pounced out so assertively from the pre-teen girl.  Her tough persona is almost lost in the eyes gone starry.  She quickly regains her walls, folding her hands across her chest like a matter of fact, focusing her eyes on the wall ahead to get her mind off the memories that start to flood.  Because, there is a story behind that statement... a deep meaningful one that brings more questions than it does certainty… and why does God let bad things happen to such small children?

My head begins to run on a road of thoughts, hard questions, and frustrated confusion.

Why are they living better than her, me, you?

Aren’t we good people and don’t we deserve better than them?

Her list is humble compared to mine.  She wants a home to call her own, honest work for her father, and food to feed her family.  

Place, purpose, provision.

It is just not fair.  I mean, why is there hunger?  Why is there divorce?  And for the life of me, why are innocent humans being sold and/or used to fulfill other’s lack of self-control?  And how come you aren’t doing anything about it, Mister Lord of Love?  You really are loving these people down here.

My mind skips to self, what is my list?  Where is God coming short in my life?

Where are my straight A’s, boyfriend, plane ticket and why can’t I fit into my jeans anymore?  “tap, tap, tap (of my foot on the floor)… I mean come on Lord, I’m way holier than that chick over there and her ducks are sure in a pretty order!  Why aren’t you blessing me too?”

Then he calms me, as I stop to catch my brain breath, before I get too far ahead of my supercilious demands.  “Who told you those would satisfy?” He asks.  “Remember the last time you went seeking to fulfill desires apart from me?”  And I pause and ask for forgiveness for my ever fleeting heart and mind.

He gives me direction, recalling a video I saw earlier this week about a dentist who does not believe in God, for the same reasons this lost girl is raising.  How can a dentist help a girl with a cavity if she will not come and get it filled?  If she refuses to take the time out of her busy schedule to rid herself of the constant pain, when the root canal needs to happen it is her fault, not his.  He could have fixed it earlier and saved her from the graver pain, but she never came.  She never called.  She never made the appointment.   I touch my mouth and mentally note, “I need to call today.”  

“I can not help those who will not come, but those who come will see.”  He says.

And he opens my eyes all at once to the blessings in those terrible days.  The lonely middle school nights begging for a friend, only to see a true friend, His Spirit, wrapping his protective arms over me.  Those questions of why I have failed answered, in my realization that he closed the bad doors I was too proud to walk away from, to open good doors I could not have imagined on my own.  That my future dreams were stripped away, to give me eyes to love the presents of the present, the faces, places.

  

“Slow down my love,” He whispers, “you are missing me.”  

And I tell the secretly love searching girl that it is not about the lists He has not met, but the list he has been meeting that we so easily forget.  Because if he fulfilled my list from last year, I would not have liked it looking back at the full picture now.  For, my heart and mind are fickle and I really am not that good, or better than her over there.  I say to be thankful that we are alive and our families are too.

Then the glisten returns to her toughened eyes because her pain is fresher than mine and life seems too hard.  And I pause to remember…

She doesn’t not believe because she is here, asking these questions and she wants the hope I wanted so bad those middle school nights when nothing seemed right.  I do not pretend to know what she is going through, but I know her pain, I know her feelings, they are too real, and I begin to feel...

Giving her my number, I tell her to call anytime.  I tell her what I did not know then.  That it is about what we have now.  Because if we are not thankful for that, we will never be satisfied with what we want since there will always be someone or something better.  Looking deep into her searching eyes I tell her I would like to hear her story.

She looks down at the paper in her hand inviting her back next week to bake with a scribble of 10 little numbers from a college girl she just met...  And there is a little hope in the search.

She walks down the stairs to a van that will take her to a home that is full of broken pieces and I say a quick prayer for her, and myself.  I pray that our lists are made small in His glorious provision as he provides what we need and not what we want.  Then lets us watch, in thankful repentance, at His glorious majesty and grace toward our demanding sinful selves.

Walking home, already fighting the lies of my own list again and asking for his help.  Because I, the saved, am forgetting to let go of my lists and lean into his presence and provision.  

It is a battle, but it is nice to know we are not fighting it alone…

And that pain has a purpose, and that without it I would not have been there to give her hope.

"Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold. I have come into the deep waters; the floods engulf me. I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched. My eyes fail, looking for my God." 

-Psalm 69:1-3