― Paulo Coelho, Brida
Life isn’t about being protected from all evils and danger. Just this past week I felt overwhelmed by such things: my first argument with my mom since I was 15, a flu which made me dream nightmares and lay in bed all day, financial woes, a beloved friend who shared with me her unwedded pregnancy, long-distance phone calls with D over a poor-signaled, static-y phone.
No, life isn’t about being kept safe and protected. Lately, my relationship with God feels like the relationship between a circus acrobat and her high rope–shaky, undependable and unknown. It feels as if I’m walking through life with blinded eyes; where are You, God? Do You see the pain I’m going through? Why is it so hard?
To prevent further apathy on my part I pull out my Bible, dust off its covers and begin again. But I’m not reading or loving or living right because I’m living for my Savior. I’m doing good works –albeit vain works– because I’m afraid. Afraid something is seriously wrong with my relationship with God. Like He’s mad at me or something. I mean, if He and I were on the same page wouldn’t life be peachy-keen?
No, not at all.
So what exactly should I do? Throw my hands up in the air, giving up on all that I hold dear? Sink deeper into my apathetic depression? No. Should I puff myself up with vain, religious words and prayers? Beat my selfish ways into submission? No.