The passage is found in the Old Testament in the book of Job. The New Living Translation says, in chapter 13 verse 15, “…God might kill me, but I have no other hope…”
It is the most difficult thing to try and communicate upon our return from Southeast Asia: the deep hurt that occurred there. No, I will laugh and brush off comments and perhaps dance all around the issue, but there is a wound that will take a long time to heal. I don’t understand it. I’ve argued with God – and in brutal honestly: cursed the whole journey. What was He thinking? What is He thinking? Why can’t He provide direction, show me the reason, and explain it all to me. Why do I feel less than whole and yet keep telling people that Indiana must be where God wants me…because I find myself residing here.
The picture above was taken just after I shared with the girls at the project that we were returning to the States and would have to leave. The separation from the organization we worked was one of the most ungracious that I’ve experienced from those that espouse Christianity. Do I battle bitterness? You bet I do….each and every day. Do you think that I haven’t started post after post excoriating them for the damage I experienced & foresaw? Yes, I have and deleted them all. Bitterness and anger don’t soothe the wounded soul. Lashing out wastes energy best invested in moving toward Christ.
Platitudes. I’ve already heard them. Perhaps people don’t know what to say. I’m not sure what I would say to myself in the spot I find myself. But I do know that there are friends here that love us, and we left friends in Southeast Asia that love us, and no matter where I place my head in this crappy world, God loves me. He loves me, but I’m telling you: He’s killing me. And perhaps that’s the point. Maybe He is using it all for my good. I’ve got nothing else to grab onto, so I have to hold to that promise. If I can’t hope in Him, I don’t have any other thing to grasp.
I heard this song today, and I think it kind of describes where I am in this season. There are many I can point to that have gone through deeper waters, through hotter flame, who have distresses that make ours look like a picnic…but these distresses are ours, and they hurt. God may kill me, but I have no other hope.
