“Hey, Dad. Can I get $20?”

This month has contained so many ripples and waves of change.  Some good.  Some bad.  Some frustrating.  Team changes brought new dynamics.  Our ministry was a completely new environment for me as I hadn’t taught children as the main ministry of the month yet.  I went into the whole thing with a forced optimism.  In it all, I could feel the heavy, incomprehensible emotion that had been following me around.  I’ve been trying to run away from this emotion for probably three months now.  I hate it.  Every time I tried to come up for air, and finally get out of this endless droning and grey in my head, I fall back under the wave.

My bad days (even though “bad” feels too severe of a word for the kind of days they’ve been) outnumbered my good ones and I just hate it.  I finally took it to Jesus and had the following exchange/revelation:

“I’m sorry it’s been so hard for me to lean into you.  I feel like a child asking their parent for $20 every time I sit down to spend time with you, and that is far from the mindset I want to have toward you.  I don’t want to keep asking you for better days when brokenness is already what you’ve promised me.  I don’t imagine that better days create the kind of brokenness you want me to experience.  This brokenness is only cultivated through suffering.  I can’t find that in the good days.  I’m trying to be patient, to continue to praise you.  But am I trying hard enough? Is it about trying? Is it even about my effort?

No.

I wish there was something I could do, but that’s just promoting the ‘doing’.  That’s just me, vying for control.  However small and harmless, that’s not the point.  The hope you promise, the joy you give…

Neither are feelings.

They are who you are.  Suddenly, I feel guilty.  I feel like I’ve missed too much, like this whole time I’ve not known you.

How do I know you better, Abba?

How can I love you better?

I’m so sorry for how little I’ve cared about you, how I’ve missed the point so often.  How I’ve missed the mark in all my doing.  And, all this time, you’ve been here.  Waiting.  How long have you been waiting?  So much longer than you’ve ever asked me to wait.“

No matter the circumstances– He is here.  No matter the uncomfortability, he is in it.  God is in control.  God is in control, even when my bad days outnumber my good ones.  God is in control, even when I would rather be holding the reins.  God is here, even when I can’t feel his presence.  God is here, even when I don’t want to spend time with him because of how little I can see he is doing for me.  He is here when my mindset is wrong and we both know it.  He is here to pick up the pieces when I finally break.  I dread that day, but I’m waiting for it with bated breath because I know I’m right where He wants me and I have to believe He knows what He’s doing.  I’m waiting for it because more than anything I want to be where He is and where He wants me to be.  I’m waiting for it because I’m desperate to be broken before Him and to see what He will build out of me.  I have to give complete control to Him.  Surrender–again.  And again.  And again.  Despite my impatience, I know He’s worth it.